By the time he came trotting back, I'd gotten a name out of her, and a story. They'd torn the rags she was wearing half off her back, so I wrapped her in my cloak while Jaime chase the men into the woods. вЂњShe was scarcely a year older than I was, dark-haired, slender, with a face that would break your heart. When he opened the door, the light from within threw his shadow clear across the yard, and for just a moment Tyrion Lannister stood tall as a king.вЂќ All dwarfs may be bastards, yet not all bastards need be dwarfs.вЂњ And with that he turned and sauntered back into the feast, whistling a tune. Most of them are.вЂњ He favored Jon with a rueful grin. вЂћI don't even know who my mother was,вЂњ Jon said. My mother died birthing me, and he's never been sure.вЂњ вЂћYou are your mother's trueborn son of Lannister.вЂњ вЂћAll dwarfs are bastards in their father's eyes.вЂњ вЂћWhat do you know about being a bastard?вЂњ Armor yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you.вЂњ вЂћNever forget what you are, for surely the world will not. вЂћLet me give you some counsel, bastard,вЂњ Lannister said. He was pleased by the dwarf's comment, but he tried not to let it show. You have more of the north in you than your brothers.вЂњ вЂћLord Eddard Stark is my father,вЂњ Jon admitted stiffly. Generations of capering fools in motley have won me the right to dress badly and say any damn thing that comes into my head.вЂњ He grinned. He pressed his lips together and said nothing. Jon felt a coldness pass right through him.

вЂњвЂћYou're Ned Stark's bastard, aren't you?вЂњ

Mount and blade a song of ice and fire