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Jon sighed softly as he placed the sparring sword back on the stacks. His side was still smarting from the hard jab it had received from Ser Rodrick who had caught him in a moment of inattentivenes, 'understandable,' Jon thought. He found his thoughts drifting more often than not these days. At almost four-and-ten Jon was almost a man, the spitting image of his father, and five siblings that he cared the world for, even though Sansa, the eldest of his two sisters did not share his affection.

While Jon alone of his father's four sons shared the Stark looks, he did not share the same noble name of his siblings. He was a Snow, a bastard. A living reminder to people that his father had once lain with a woman that was not his wife, and Jon had been the one to pay the price for that particular sin all his life.

For as long as he could remember his father's wife, Lady Catelyn Stark had made it her life's mission to make him miserable for somehow causing her insult by existing. During meals, whether it be a big feast or a normal day to day meal in Winterfell, Jon was shuffled into a corner while his family sat at the high table, even Lord Eddard Stark's hostage, Theon of House Greyjoy, a bloody hostage, kept at Winterfell to ensure that Balon Greyjoy did not come up with new ideas of rebellion against the Crown was allowed to sit at the high table, but not Jon.

He was collecting bruises more often than not, his brother Robb, and Lord Eddard's heir was for the most part Jon's best friend, or used to be at least, but had started to drift away from Jon more and more lately, as he started to prefer the company of Theon Greyjoy. They still spent time together of course, every day they would spend time in the practice yard in Winterfell, and regardless of the fact that Jon was a better swordsman 'by far,´he thought,' he had to let Robb beat him every day. He could win, he knew that, even Ser Rodrick had said more than once that he had never met someone as gifted with a sword as Jon, and at such a young age even. But, Lady Stark had other ideas of course. She had once observed his and Robb's sparring session, and was incensed when he beat Robb.

Even though it was five years ago, and he had hardened much since then, the following tongue lashing, and resounding slap he had received from the irate Lady stuck with him, that day was the last time he ever beat Robb in the sword ring. He wasn't superior to Robb in all things of course, while he himself was by far the better rider, Robb was far more gifted with the lance, not that Jon had any aspirations for using a lance of course. Lances were for Knights, and there were very few Knights in the North.

Once, Jon had been…content, or nearly so at least with his lot in life. It could be much worse, he got food every day, was allowed to sit in on Robb's lessons with Maester Luwin and had a spacious enough room in Winterfell. While distant and a bit strict Lord Eddard could have simply pushed him onto one of his bannermen or even worse thrown him to the streets to fend for himself instead of taking him in.

But Jon wanted more. Regardless of how many times he implored or once outright begged his father, Lord Stark refused to tell him so much as a whiff of his mother, not her name, if she was alive or dead, he didn't even know the colour of her hair, though he figured he knew the colour of her eyes at least, as no one in the entirety of the Stark family had ever had eyes like Jon, lilac, so dark that when coupled with his hair they seemed almost black, not that it helped Jon any though. He had asked Maester Luwin, and perused countless books on his own as well. Each time he thought he might have found an answer he was disappointed.

Purple eyes were a sign of Valyrian ancestry, for the most part at least according to Luwin. He had thought that perhaps his father had lain with a Celtigar or Velaryon, but there were no females that fit the right age for when Jon had been born, all of them either too old or too young. He had thought he had finally found his answer when he came across a mention of Ashara Dayne, only to have that hope ruthlessly crushed. The last time Ashara Dayne had met a Stark had been at the Tourney of Harrenhall, over a year before Jon was born.

The positive side of Jon's search was that he became much more familiar with Maester Luwin, eagerly absorbing tales of the Citadel and other places of the south. He also found out that hiding himself away in Winterfell's library not only cheered him up somewhat from his usual gloomy thoughts, but also kept him away from Lady Stark, which was a good thing in his book. Maester Luwin himself was also pleased for the company, and even tried to introduce Jon to the harp…tried being the key word, as it became clear after only a few lessons that Jon had a far better talent with the instrument than Luwin had, so that was his life, every day he'd spend hours honing his skills with the sword, becoming almost as good with his left as he was with his right after a nasty fall from his horse broke his arm once, forcing him to practice with his left, he just never stopped training with his left. He'd then spend most of what remained of the day in the library, either pouring over a new book or idly playing the harp as his mind wandered. The only negative side of this according to Luwin was that Jon seemed to have a penchant for sadder, gloomier tunes, and it was a shame, Luwin said that a young man with such promise should be so morose, most often causing Jon to give a slight shrug before often trying out a jauntier tune.

Of course things changed when he was three-and-ten, as Winterfell received visitors. Not an unusual occurrence of course, the unusual thing was that it was the first time that a Prince of Dorne had ever visited the North. The look on his father's face when he was told that Prince Oberyn Martell was riding for Winterfell was always a good way for Jon to have a little chuckle to himself, though he understood in some way at least why his father was surprised. Father had fought on opposite sides in Robert's Rebellion. A rebellion that led to Oberyn's sister and both her children to be brutally murdered by the Lannisters of Casterly Rock in the name of Robert Baratheon, who just so happened to be Lord Eddard Stark's best friend, said rebellion was also the downfall of the Targaryens who had ruled Westeros for almost three hundred years.

It was that visit that had changed Jon's life, or at least the way he looked on things. Due to Prince Oberyn being royalty, Lady Stark had not wasted her opportunity to once again strike out against Jon and promptly barred him from even attending the feast,as in her own words "A bastard has no place in a feast for royalty", easily disregarding the fact that Oberyn had with him four of his own bastard girls.

Thoughts of those girls, the one called Nymeria in particular caused a wellspring of confusing emotions to well up in Jon. With the swords locked away for the night, he had found himself outside, near the godswood playing his harp in solitude when Nymeria had found him. Lost as he was in his own thoughts he had almost jumped in the ear when applause sounded and he had whirled his head around to watch as the older…and quite frankly very attractive Dornish bastard applauding him with a wide smile on her face and suspiciously moist eyes.

Much of that night was still a bit of a haze to Jon, he did remember that he and Nymeria had spent hours together talking, mostly about him and his life as a bastard in the North, while her own stories about Dorne, and also of how her father took her all over Westeros and even a few trips to Essos left Jon almost green with envy, and not for the first time he had wished that he had grown up in Dorne, where bastards seemed to have a much better life.

Of course they did more than talk. Nymeria seemed almost outraged when Jon admitted that he had never gotten even remotely drunk in his life, the most he'd had was two tankards of ale in another feast (there were some perks to sitting as far away from the high table as possible). Nymeria (or Nym as she insisted he call her) had almost dragged him to the alehouse in Wintertown, where she kept plying him (and herself) with goblet after goblet of wine or ale. His first time really drinking it might be, but with the quite larger amount of drink that Nym consumed they sound themselves on eager footing, becoming more and more drunk. He may be bitter about being forced to stay away from the feast, but they had a quite lively party in Wintertown, drinking and eating, Jon even momentarily entertained the drunken residents, playing a few lively songs along with another man who had brought a fiddle with him.

That's where things got more hazy, he didn't know how (or even when) it had happened, but evidently he and Nym must have staggered from Wintertown, back to Winterfell proper, and eventually found their way to the room she had been given for their stay. He had woken up, naked as the day he was born, with an equally naked Nym sprawled on top of him, and only a vague recollection of leaving the tap house.

He had turned stiff as a statue as he tried to remember the rest of the night, but try as he might he could scarcely recall more than a few heated kisses. Horrifyed at the thought of maybe having fathered a bastard (and also somewhat amused and resigned at not even remembering losing his virginity) he had taken the cowards way out, and carefully untagled himself from Nym, picked up his clothes and snuck back to his own rooms in the wee hours of the morning, eventually laying down in his own bed to try and catch some sleep.

For the duration of their stay he had tried as best he could to avoid the Dornish guests, guiltily sneaking glances at Nym when he thought she wasn't looking, not that she seemed to care. Either she didn't remember anything of that night, or she didn't care about the fact that she had given a young bastard boy his first taste of the pleasure a woman could offer. He had one other run in with the Dornish, the dornishman in question being the Prince himself, though no words were spoken. Oberyn Martell had simply come across him the evening before their departure, deep in his cups and returning from the brothel in Wintertown when he had come across Jon playing.

No words were spoken, Jon himself to horrifyed (and nervous) at being caught off guard by the Dornish Prince, while Prince Oberyn himself had hurried away, looking like he had seen a ghost. They left the next day, apparently heading to White Harbour to take a ship to the Jade Sea, little did Jon know that it would not be the last time he would meet the Prince of Dorne…

POV: Switch. Oberyn Martell.

As they neared Winterfell for the second time in a bit more than a year he was forced to yet again try to calm himself. While Oberyn could safely say that he held no love for the Starks he wouldn't say that he hated them either. True, it was that fool Brandon who went traipsing off to King's Landing to get himself killed, that had essentially caused the death of Elia, but he also knew that he would have done the same had the situation been reversed, and Elia was the one who had found herself taken by a Prince. Eddard Stark was actually a man that Oberyn respected, not only for his skills as a soldier (more than one man had found himself dead due to the Quite Wolf's rage) but also for the fact that out of all the Lords who had fought against the Targaryens Eddard Stark was alone in having condemned the brutal actions of the Sack of King's Landing at Tywin Lannister's hand.

Before every single one of the rebel Lords he had laid into the newly crowned King Robert, Tywin Lannister and Tywin's mad dogs like no one had probably ever done before. Robert the fat fuck had however not cared at all at the accusations and demands for justice made by Eddard Stark, instead he had banished him and the northern Lords from the city and sent them to break the siege of Storm's End. For that he would always have Oberyn's respect and gratitude, not that Eddard's rage and disgust with Robert and the Lannisters were any help to Elia, but now at least he had the opportunity for vengeance.

Four-and-ten years his brother Doran had cautioned patience as he made his plans and spun his webs, but Oberyin was not patient. His blood ran as hot as the sands of Dorne, always had, and always would. His temper had been truly tested a few moons after their party had left Winterfell. His secend eldest daughter Nymeria had taken ill, oft times vomiting and feeling lethargic. At first he thought it might have been sea sickness, she had suffered from such before after all, but as her sickness continued after they had returned to land he had started to suspect other things, and when his daughter had suddenly (to her shock) concluded that she had not bled for over two moons the answer was quite clear.

He had raged, raved and ranted for a good hour at whoever had dared defile his daughter, before his temper stilled, helped along by the fact that his other daughters, Obara, Tyene and Sarella were busy smirking, laughing and in general making japes at Nymeria's expense. He had dug for information of course. At first Nymeria had denied taking any lovers on their trip, had she done so she would have taken moon tea, and he did believe her…if not for the fact that she was undeniably with child, the truth came out eventually however as his daughter focused, and eventually remembered a few moments of the first night they had spent in Winterfell, including the fact that she had spent hours drinking with Lord Stark's bastard, and that she had fucked him raw, that last statement causing his girls to snort with laughter while he himself closed his eyes briefly and take a few deep breaths.

Their trip had been stopped short after that, Nymeria wanting to give birth in Dorne, and Oberyn himself more comfortable of the thought of his daughter having the best care possible for the birth of his first grandchild.

The return to Dorne had been good enough he supposed, not much different from the other times he returned from one of his trips, if not a bit different as both his niece Arianne and his lover Ellaria had both burst into peals of laughter at the sight of Nymeria whose stomach was starting to swell at that point, and they didn't lay off her either, doing their part to needle her at opportune times with bad japes.

Eventually the time came for the birthing and he had paced nervously outside Nymeria's rooms in the Water Garden's as his daughter screamed to the heavens as she brought his grandchild into the world, thankfully it was over relatively soon, the birthing taking a whole nine hours, which was quite a bit less than his daughters Elia and Obella who had both taken almost a full day to come into the world. Eventually the doors to his daughter's room had been opened and he had been greeted by not only the cries of the newborn babe, but also the shocked faces of his other daughters and Ellaria, and the cause of the look was soon made clear as he was handed the squealing babe by his daughter.

In the face of the babe were a pair of dark lilac eyes, and what's more, the baby boy had a full tuft of silvery blonde hair crowning his head, and in that terrifying moment everything clicked for Oberyn as he thought on Eddard Stark's 'bastard'. The melancholic look that adorned the boy's face, the way he handled a sword, not just with his right but also his left hand, the skill with the harp, the chin and cheekbones, the lean stature of the boy, so unlike the more stocky build of his 'father' and 'brothers', even the soft way he spoke…all of it hidden beneath a slightly long face and dark almost coal black hair, a cleverly disguised dragon in a wolf's clothing, and he barely managed to restrain himself from laughing at the absurdity of it all.

One thing was for sure, as soon as his daughter had recovered they would ride North, and when presented with undeniable proof honourable Lord Eddard Stark would provide answers…

AN:

A 'what if' story that just wouldn't leave me alone. The idea of Oberyn Martell traveling to the North isn't that farfetched, he is after all a well travelled man, and so it just balled on from there, and after the quite awesome last episode of S6 I just had to do it.

Hope you like it, and feel free to leave a review.