Chapter Text
When the King's party had reached Winterfell, Jon had not expected to be the focus of anyone's attention, save perhaps Lady Catelyn ensuring he kept out of the way. He did not expect much attention to be directed at him regardless. He was, after all, just the bastard. Even his dynamic was nothing special. Male Omegas were, for the most part, fairly common. At least in the North. He could not say for certain if that were the case in the South.
So, certain he would go unnoticed and be able to return to his typical day of training and wandering the woods with his direwolf pup, Jon stood at the back of the group, watching the arrival of the King, whom Jon found was too fat and far less grand than he had expected.
He had certainly not expected to be noticed by any of the royal party.
But especially not by the man who had accompanied them.
Ser Gregor Clegane, the man known as the Mountain, had, he would later learn from Lord Tyrion Lannister of all people, accompanied the royals at the request of the Queen.
Gregor was everything the whispers and rumours said and more. Larger than any man Jon had ever before seen, larger even than Lord Jon Umber, and stood stark and emotionless as his moniker. Even from a distance Jon had been able to smell the waft of Alpha from the man and had decided, almost immediately, to keep distance between himself and the large man. He had no desire to risk making Gregor, who was rumoured to have a foul temper, angry or insulted.
Unfortunately, Gregor had decided on a very different course of action.
Jon quickly found that, nearly everywhere he went, the large Alpha was there.
In the training yard Gregor would spar with men who had no hopes of winning against him while Jon trained with Jory or another of the men of Winterfell or he would offer Jon gruff corrections on his stance or strikes. In the kennels he commented on Ghost and how Jon ought to be teaching the direwolf certain commands.
At first, Jon dismissed it. Gregor was probably, like most men, curious about the bastard son of the noble and honourable Ned Stark. But then, after a chat with Maya, a fellow Omega who worked the kitchens, he realized what was truly going on. Or rather Maya pointed it out.
"It's the same thing my Ignis did," she said, rolling dough for bread. "Showing off in hopes that the pretty Omega will notice him. Fluffing his feathers and trying to look the cock of the walk is all the big man's doing. They're all the same like that. Be they Alpha, Beta or Omega."
After that, Jon tried to figure out a way, polite and proper, to discourage Gregor or to show he was not interested. But, unfamiliar as he was with courtship, he had no idea how one was supposed to properly express rejection without also offering insult and, sadly, going to his Lord father or even Lady Catelyn was out of the question. His father would worry endlessly and Lady Catelyn, hardly fond of him to begin with, would blame him somehow for inviting the unwanted attention.
Days passed and during an evening feast everything came to a head.
Jon was seated at a low table near the back of the great hall, with Jory and some of the other men, laughing and eating, glad to not be banished yet again to the yard or kitchens, seemingly forgotten for once by Lady Catelyn. He had just laughed at something Jory said when a shadow, large and unmistakeable, fell over the table.
The men all fell quiet, a few twitching, and heads turning towards the new comer, watching warily and, beside him, Jon felt Jory tense.
Looking up at the large Alpha, Jon had never felt smaller but he held Gregor's gaze. He would not be intimidated. Not here. Not in Winterfell. He may have been a bastard but he was a bastard with the love of his father, the love of his siblings, the love of the people of Winterfell, and he would not be intimidated. Not even by the likes of Ser Gregor Clegane.
He had just opened his mouth to speak when Gregor laid an impressive looking cloak on the table before him.
The fabric, heavy and fine looking wool, was dyed black but was accented at the hem with silver-white thread in the form of running wolves and the collar was trimmed with speckled white and grey fur.
It was, as he'd thought upon first seeing it, impressive.
A fine gift.
A courting gift.
And Jon felt his fingers tremble slightly as he looked up at Gregor again.
"Ser Gregor," he started, trying to find the right words, the proper words, to refuse the Alpha's gift, to refuse his request for a courtship. But he hesitated a moment, uncertain, unknowing how to even begin.
Gregor, however, seemed to have no problem finding his words.
"I understand this is unusual," Gregor said, voice deep and rumbling but, somehow, it seemed as though he was trying to be gentle, to be kind. "But...from what little time I have spent with you...I...I do believe I could give you a good life. We...We might be happy together, you and I."
Jon sat there, still as stone, silent, sensing the entire hall was no holding its breath, feeling the eyes on him, waiting for him to make his decision.
With a slow, deep breath, Jon stood, lifting the cloak from the table.
He saw, for the briefest moment, Gregor's eyes fill with hope and he hated himself for what he had to do.
He handed the cloak back, ignoring the murmurs and the whispers and the looks, choosing instead to focus on Gregor, on watching the understanding dawn in the large Alpha's eyes. He fought back the tremor of fear, the frightened, childish voice in his mind screaming at him not to be stupid, to accept the offer of courtship and then let his father figure out how best to handle the situation, how to refuse Gregor. But he couldn't do that.
Honour said that, as Gregor had presented the gift to him, not to his father, his duty was to respond in kind.
"I'm sorry," he said softly, gently, not wanting to anger the Alpha or risk causing any greater of a scene then had already been brought about. "But...But I am not but a bastard. And as such I...I am an ill choice for your mate."
"You..." Gregor seemed suddenly at a loss. Clearly confused at the refusal but he was not rising to anger over it either so, Jon thought, perhaps that was a good sign.
"You deserve a better Omega," Jon explained, still gently, praying to the Old Gods that Gregor would understand, would not press the matter further once this was finished. "Someone...Someone not tainted by a mistake of birth. You deserve someone worthy of you." He managed a weak smile. "And while I'm...I'm touched you felt that I might be that someone...I...I'm sorry to say it's not I, Ser."
Gregor said nothing for so long that Jon was beginning to feel the fear crawling back into his veins but then the large Alpha gave a slow nod and, much to Jon's surprise, handed him back the cloak.
"It was always to be yours," Gregor rumbled faintly, reaching out to brush a dark curl behind Jon's ear. "Whether you accepted my offer or not."
Jon gave a slow, understanding nod and remained standing even as Gregor turned to walk away.
The large Alpha paused suddenly, turning back slightly to look at Jon, giving the faintest of smiles.
"You are worthy of any man who comes seeking you," Gregor said plainly, not caring that his words caused more whispers and murmurs to spread through the hall. "It is we who are not worthy of you."
Jon blinked and, before he could think of how to respond, Greogr continued on his way, disappearing from the hall as easily as he had come.
Slowly, Jon returned to his seat, ignoring the comments from the men around him, his gaze swinging towards the high table where, he was not surprised, his father sat, watching him. He couldn't say why but Ned actually looked relieved, looked happy even. It was strange, and Jon couldn't begin to understand why his refusal of a potential Alpha, even one with the reputation of Gregor Clegane, would bring happiness to his father.
One would think his father would be pleased to see him become something other than Ned Stark's bastard. Perhaps it was just that Ned wanted to see him take a Northern Alpha as his mate or perhaps it was because Ned, like most of the men in the hall, did not trust Gregor. Perhaps Ned worried that, had Jon agreed to the courtship, to being mated, that Jon would become just another victim of the Mountain.
Jon was pulled from his thoughts by Jory, who nudged him and asked what he intended to do with his new fancy cloak.