Jon walked to the stables. Bob was already sitting on his horse, whilst Greg was still adjusting its equipment, "you ready for Dorne, guys?"
Bob nodded as they rode through the busy streets. Homeless men were laying on the ground, begging for some coin, street vendors were selling food and other things, such as jewellery or clothes, children were chasing after cats… that reminded him of Arya. In the original story, her waterdance instructor made her hunt cats, he wondered if that still would happen, after all that had changed. She wouldn't have needle, not unless he visited her beforehand. But should he? His thoughts were in the north, far away from this shit reeking city. They exited the city gates and Greg took the lead, he knew where to go. After a full day of travelling, they settled down for the night.
Bob unsheathed his sword and raised it towards Jon, "you up for a little spar, snow?"
"Always, stone", he took his spear and got in position. As soon as he accepted the challenge, the bastard from the vale jumped at him, swinging his sword with ferocity. He was fast. Even with his enhanced reflexes, at first he only barely managed to block the onslaught but as they exchanged blows, Jon analysed his opponent, the way he favoured his right side, leaving his left open, so he struck there, the way his eye twitched when he was about to perform a faint. As the fight raged on, the even battle turned more and more in favor of Jon. Whereas at first, he was overwhelmed by this foreign fighting style, with every passing second, he adapted. He had just blocked another overhead swing, when he closed the distance, miming as if he pulled something from his trousers as he conjured a dagger in his hand, letting the spear fall to the ground. Within moments, he had Bob Stone by the throat, "you yield?"
"Yeah, I yield", Bob grumbled, "you are good, Snow, better than I expected. Pulling that knife on me was a clever trick", he turned to his side, where Greg was tending to the fire, "you want a go at him as well?"
"I'm not much for sparring… we could throw knives though" Greg pulled out a sack full of knives, throwing knives, which hat a sharp point but no edge.
And so, the three of them held a competition about who could throw knives the best. They each pitched in two golden dragons and set up targets. Surprisingly, Jon wasn't the winner, despite Loki's proficiency, Greg was just better. He barely missed a single target. Jon wasn't fat behind but Bob? Bob's throws rarely hit their mark, though he did manage to accidentally impale a rabbit, which they roasted over their fire as they chatted.
"So, how did you decide on the spear? That's more of a Westerland or Dornish weapon, isn't it?"
"I don't know, it kinda just called to me. I am decent with the sword too but give me a spear and dagger? I'm in my home field" Jon recounted his 'surprising' talent and how he humbled his true born brother when they sparred. Then, he went on to describe the rest of his family, proper Sansa, rebellious Arya and so on. Greg and Bob listened, laughing when appropriate and throwing in little stories themselves.
Their lives weren't all that exciting, they lived much like Jon, a guest in the keeps. They were expected to become nothing much. Where their true born siblings were taught how to rule, all they could do to stand out was to prove their skills with weapons. This opportunity was everything to them, their chance to rise beyond their status. A knight had a certain Status and there was always the chance to be landed by the king…
Jon didn't say it but that wasn't his true ambition. What waited for him was to rule, to dominate. He was a god! What mortals could stand against him? He was stronger, faster and definitely more handsome.
He had already seen one of the many possiblities in his dream, by the side of Daenerys but that wasn't all he could attempt.
He could conquer his way through, like Aegon the conquerer, he could ally himself with the Lannisters (yeah as if), he could wait out the time to be named king in the north and so much more. There were dozens of ways to get what he wanted but now, it still wadd so in the far future. He could plot all he wanted to but to run a marathon, you must first take a single step.
As the others went to sleep, Jon's gaze was once again lifted to the sky, to the great constellations in the night. He muttered under his breath, "the mother, the crone, the great stallion…"
The stars were simply enchanting. In his previous life, he had always admired the universe. As a child, he always wanted to be an astronaut. Jon couldn't care less about exploring the stars right now, he had a life to build but he still could admire their beauty.
Eventually, he went to sleep.
When his eyes fluttered open again, he stood in that inn room again, his own hands pressed against his neck. He could feel his heartbeat in his head and wanted to scream, to fight but no matter what, his other self didn't relent. Everything started going fuzzy, he was disoriented. It started turning black when he heard something, an arrow flying. He was shaken by the shoulders and finally for real opened his eyes. Bob was standing over him, looking panicked, "enemies! Bandits! They- they launched a surprise attack and got me"
Jon could see an arrow sticking out of his shoulder. His eyes, once jovial now, were panicked. He kept glancing around nervously, expecting an attack. Jon jumped to his feet and held high his spear. The danger was real… and that excited him, a lot.