Jon found that as boring as his duties could be, he enjoyed his time in King's Landing more than he'd ever have thought. But it wasn't easy.
Some days they spent following the king or his family around, though it was rare they were assigned to Cersei, who seemed to take his presence as an insult even with the new clothes Barristan bought him. They'd opted to keep to his darker colors, buying mostly black and grays, the opposite of the kingsguard.
"Perhaps it's best for you to be my shadow," Barristan said handing the boy a black jerkin as they looked through the tailor's shop.
Jon found he didn't like following Joffrey much. Not only did he already have his own sworn sword in Sandor Clegane, who Jon didn't mind much, but Jon didn't like the crown prince. He spoke to everyone as though they were the disgusting stains upon existence.
"Don't speak back to the crown prince," Barristan told him before their first day guarding him. "Whatever he says, don't be rude."
"Was your mother a whore, bastard?" Joffrey asked as they walked him to his lesson with Maester Pyrcelle.
Barristan glanced at his squire, who shrugged. "I couldn't say, your grace. My father wouldn't speak of her."
"Perhaps she was too much of an embarrassment," Joffrey said with a laugh. "Some ugly wench he took in some hut."
Jon's jaw shifted, thinking of the kind, beautiful, highborn lady he imagined as his mother. "Perhaps, your grace."
Joffrey seemed disappointed by Jon's passive response, which made him less interested in bothering Jon whenever they were assigned to him. That at least made it bearable.
Tommen was probably the most fun, as guarding him often became playing with him. Barristan was more than pleased to give up his role chasing or lifting the prince to his squire whenever there was no risk of Cersei finding them. He knew better than to let her find the prince laughing manically as Jon swung him about. Though just as often he was helping the boy read a difficult word or describing the North to the prince.
Half the time Myrcella was with Tommen, but guarding her was simple. They often escorted her for walks about the court and to her garden which she maintained.
Myrcella found herself noticing the kingsguards more often than normal whenever Ser Barristan and Jon were assigned to her. Jon was nothing like what she'd heard of bastards. Though he appeared sullen more often than not, she found she liked seeing him smile as it seemed warmer than she thought possible from a man of the North. She also found herself flustered by how quick he was to help her, lifting heavy sacks and pots to help her keep her garden in order, not hesitating to help her dig or offering to work while she instructed so she wouldn't be dirtied.
Guarding the king was… interesting. Jon's face was red for half a day after spending an evening stood beside Barristan and Jaime listening to the king grunt and groan as a maid wailed and cried in pleasure. Jon knew it was common for some lords to have mistresses but it seemed the king had at least a dozen.
It made Jon wonder if Eddard had a mistress. From what he knew his mother was of the south since Eddard returned to Winterfell with Jon after the war, so she couldn't be there. Jon couldn't imagine Catelyn making the noises the women made for the king, but maybe that was only because he disliked her and she hated him. Perhaps she was a loving wife. She always seemed to care for her children, even if she was a bit hard on Arya or coddled them a bit, but maybe that was something mother's did. Cersei certainly coddled Joffrey, but seemed to ignore Myrcella and Tommen. He just couldn't imagine Catelyn Tully ever enjoying anything, but maybe she wasn't a cold fish when she was abed with her husband.
Beyond that he found guarding the king an opportunity to do other things. While they stood in silence during petitions Jon did his best to observe as much as possible, training his eyes to gauge every shift in movement within their vision. He took in what the people said and thought on what he might do in the king's place, sometimes finding the choices too difficult or finding he might have chosen differently.
Jon had never guarded a Small Council meeting as when they tailed Robert he never went and Barristan wasn't invited to them despite being Lord Commander of the Kinsguard. While Barristan made it clear he didn't mind avoiding the politics, it meant he had little interaction with most of them, apart form observing them around court of during petitions.
Jon Arryn often checked in on Jon, making sure he was eating right, seeing how he was doing with Barristan. He was certainly the easiest to like of the council, seeming like a grandfather he never had despite having a son barely half Jon's age. His wife, however, Jon didn't like much. He rarely saw her, but when he did she was always glaring at him, holding her son as if Jon might snatch the boy away.
Barristan had told Jon to be wary of everyone in King's Landing, but especially those within the Small Council, and Jon couldn't help feeling he was right. Though a bit older than Jon Arryn, Pycelle held of none of the Hand's calm or kindness, seeming more a blustering fool yet watching and calculating during his silences and feigned sleeps. Though he came off as effeminate and soft, Varys seemed little more than a mask the man wore drowned in perfumes.
Petyr Baelish might be the worst to Jon's mind. The man's slick smiles seemed like they oozed grease whenever Jon saw them. Ever smiling yet not a single one of them true unless he had spoken some half clever comment, Jon wondered how anyone ever believed a word the man said. Perhaps they thought so little of him because of his low birth, but he seemed to find joy in the chaos of court, which seemed something only a madman might enjoy. A madman, or someone who though themselves smarter than everyone else.
Jon found he liked both the king's brothers to a degree, but for different reasons. Stannis came off stubborn as a bulwark at times, paying little mind to courtesies, but seemed fair and just, if a bit unforgiving. The youngest brother, Renly, had all the charm Stannis lacked. He came off friendly, jovial in the way Robert was but kinder and more thoughtful.
"Lord Renly," Barristan called out one afternoon when they spotted the Master of Laws walking through the courtyard with his squire at his side.
"Ser Barristan," the young Baratheon said with a smile.
"I hoped I could ask for a match between our squires," Barristan said looking to Loras Tyrell.
Renly and Loras exchanged a look, half amused. For a moment Jon thought he might deny the knight's request, but Loras gave Jon a look before nodding, sparking Renly to do the same. "Alright."
Jon wasn't sure he ever felt as pathetic as he did opposite Loras Tyrell in the training yard. He'd often get the best of Robb and Theon when it came to swords, but Loras was nothing like them. Robb was all brute strength most of the time where Theon was easy to read. He'd always thought he was better than Robb or Theon, but facing Barristan Selmy and Loras Tyrell Jon just wondered if maybe they were all awful.
Though roughly a year older than Jon, Loras was a much better swordsman than anyone Jon had seen apart from Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime. He'd find he wielded most weapons better than Jon, who rarely used anything but a sword back in Winterfell. Still, he enjoyed their spars, for though he was better than Jon, Loras took him serious from the moment they first took up blunted steel. Barristan had taken it easy on him whenever they trained, but Loras came at him as hard as Jon went after him. Jon just came up short more often than not, and didn't know how to feel when Loras mentioned one day that his brother Garlan was even better than him.
It didn't help that as their matches became more frequent they drew the attention of others in the court. Women gathered to see the handsome flower knight batter the poor bastard who could barely hold his own against him. Loras seemed to relish the attention, playing up the role of the dashing knight while Jon tried to take what he could from each match and use it going into the next.
Jon had taken to the yard one night to prepare for the next day's match when he heard a voice call out, "You'll never beat him like that."
Slamming his sword against the straw dummy, Jon heard the clink of armor and turned to find Jaime making his way toward him. "I think I can outmatch this straw knight well enough."
"I meant Loras," Jaime said with a smirk. "Tyrell's been trained by knights since he was a boy. You won't be able to match him, not so quickly."
"Should I just accept my losses then?"
"Never," Jaime said with a laugh. "Just don't fight his fight. Make him fight yours."
"What's my fight?" Jon asked with a sigh. "I feel like I barely know anything."
Jaime looked Jon over for a moment, his disheartened tone seeming to make Jaime step into the yard. "You've come up short against one of the best squires in King's Landing and against one of the best swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms. Doesn't mean you're useless." Jaime turned and pulled a blunted sword from the barrel beside the wooden fence. "The only way to get better is to keep at it."
Jon stared at Jaime for a moment, his wide eyes settling as he stepped back and took a breath, raising his sword. Few ever had the chance to spar with Jaime Lannister, Jon wasn't a fool, he wouldn't turn this down. Of course he lost, but he found it useful.
"Keep your thumb level with the hilt during that," Jaime told him. "You could go for a cut here, like this," he'd say before showing him a quick maneuver.
Jon found himself spending mornings training with Barristan Selmy, many afternoons sparring with Loras Tyrell, and many nights learning from Jaime Lannister. While his mornings and nights were usually private, his matches with Loras quickly became something others found as near daily entertainment.
More than once he found King Robert had come to watch them spar and more often than not Tommen found his way into the crowd, sometimes sitting on the shoulders of a kingsguard to watch them fight. Even Myrcella occasionally watched them alongside many of the other girls of the court.
"Loras is amazing," one of her handmaidens said watching him parry Jon's blows before forcing Jon to go defensive.
"He's as handsome as he is strong," said another.
Myrcella found herself tilting her head as she observed them fighting. Loras was definitely more skilled, he won more than Jon, but she noticed patterns the more she watched them. When Jon won it was almost always a counter, often after one of Loras's attempt to counter while on the defensive. She heard others remark that Jon always found an opening.
Loras was undoubtedly more skilled at the moment, but he was quick to anger, and every so often she saw Jon play on that to draw Loras into a loss. He maybe wasn't as skilled, but Jon was smarter, saw more, used the skill he had better. Where occasionally she saw Loras grouse when he lost, Jon closed into himself and refocused his thoughts
Myrcella couldn't help but smile as she watched Jon back away, giving Loras an opening to slash at him which Jon dodged and thrust through his defense to hit Loras's chest. "Yes, he is amazing."
Every week Jon would go to Barristan in the morning to help him prepare and then on some random day the Lord Commander would hand him a dagger and tell him, "Wander."
Jon fastened the dagger around his waist and would spend his day wandering the city, taking in as much as he could. Thankfully he never had to use the dagger. It seemed most people knew who he was and kept their distance, as if he were Barristan himself rather than his squire whose losses grew daily. Barristan finally stopped sending him to wander after Jon had taken to recommending places they could eat during their off time.
It was around then that Jon first met the Imp, Tyrion Lannister, while he and Barristan were escorting Myrcella and Tommen.
"Uncle!" Tommen called out, rushing to the man not much taller than himself.
Tyrion laughed and hugged the boy, releasing him to hug his niece and kiss her cheek. "You grow more beautiful every time I see you, dear niece."
"Thank you, uncle." She curtsied as Tyrion's gaze shifted to the knight behind them.
"Ser Barristan," he said with a nod before his mismatched eyes found Jon and a grin took his lips. "You must be Selmy's bastard squire."
"I am, my lord," Jon said with a nod.
Tyrion seemed surprised by Jon's lack of reaction to being called bastard. Serving months with Joffrey only ever referring to him as bastard helped make the word lose much of the bite it once held for Jon.
Instead Tyrion looked to Barristan and smirked. "Is the boy any good, or did our king stick you with some lost cause for his friend?" Tyrion noticed a flash of indignation cross Myrcella's face at the insult.
Barristan shook his head. "No, Jon's a fine squire, my lord. I've no doubt you'll see for yourself soon enough."
Tyrion nodded, glancing from Myrcella to the sullen squire who flashed a brief smile to Barristan in thanks for the kind words. A smile that seemed to lessen Myrcella's pout as she grabbed Tommen's hand. "I'm sure I will…"
In truth he did when he found a crowd gathered around the training yard and squeezed through to stand beside his niece and nephew and their kingsguard to watch the sullen squire face Renly's squired rose.
He would never be as skilled with a sword as Jaime but Tyrion felt he knew enough to tell exceptional swordsman from others, and he had no doubt that was what he saw watching the squires fight. Loras was skilled and flashy but Jon was patient and observant, attacking nearly every opening he could. Loras was stronger but Jon seemed quicker, or at least quicker to react, his victories coming from what seemed to be accurate predictions of moves. No, half of those were traps he laid for the Tyrell, leaving himself open so Loras would attack but then blocking and countering, twice even accounting for Loras' reaction from that.
As the squires fought Tyrion made his way over to Barristan. "Your squire, he's a bastard, yes?"
"Aye," Barristan said, stood with his arms crossed as he looked upon the squires.
"How long has he been wielding a sword?"
"Since he was old enough to walk he says," Barristan laughed, glancing at the dark haired squire, "though I doubt he's had much of a challenge until he got here."
"No wonder," Tyrion nodded, looking to the fray.
"When he first came here I'd say he was barely a novice," Barristan said with a proud smile as he looked at the boy's back. "He barely landed a single strike his first match with Loras."
Tyrion glanced at the knight as Jon took another victory, Loras letting out a groan and laughing. "Good riposte, Snow." Though quick to anger in the battle, Loras was at least gracious enough in defeat to laugh and prepare for the next round.
"I'd imagine the boy's already better than most soldiers and lordlings," Tyrion said with a laugh.
"Give him three years," Barristan said with a smirk as he watched Jon parry strikes and have his riposte deflected, "and that boy will take a victories from Jaime and myself."
Tyrion found himself grinning as he watched Loras land a trio of strikes on Jon, who chuckled, rolled his shoulder and took a breath as he circled the ring. He saw the boy going over the round mentally before turning and starting again, feinting and shifting to the left, deflecting a sudden swing from Loras and holding his own blunted sword to the squire's neck.
Tyrion looked up to the Lord Commander with a smirk. "You sure he'll need that long?"