Chapter One
Aranel leaned heavily on his staff, his satchel bumping in a familiar, comforting rhythm as he walked through the lands of the north. He had been waiting for a long time for this moment and now that it was within his grasp, he had traveled too quickly in the harsh terrain for fear of arriving too late. He knew time was of the essence for soon bags would be packed and the one he searched for would leave to begin the rocky path fate has laid out for him. Aranel must catch him before then, no matter if his body felt as though it would collapse any moment. He had been through worse and worse was yet to come. Winter was coming.
When the sun fell in the sky, cloaking the land before him in darkness, Aranel traveled only an hour more before stopping and making camp. After a restless night, filled with odd dreams and dancing shadows, Aranel once again continues on his journey. It was only four hours later that he saw destination before him; Winterfell, where Eddard Stark, the Warden of the North, resides along with his family. Aranel had no use for Starks, however, and thought carefully how to go about how to approach the man he had been searching for. After thinking for the rest of the walk and coming up with nothing convincing, Aranel hoped that something would come to him in the moment that he presented himself. A simple trick allowed him to pass through the gates unnoticed, his hood drawn and hiding his features from curious eyes, the only notable thing about him was the six foot staff he carried. The staff itself was his most prized possession, it was carved from Aspen wood with the blunt ends being obsidian, or dragonglass as some call it. The staff appeared to have vines detailed into the wood, climbing up the staff from both ends where the obsidian ended and Aspen wood began, leaving only the middle bare and smooth for an easy place to hold. It had seen Aranel out of many a bad situation and was far sturdier than it looked, a fact that most who were unfortunate enough to find out did not live long to tell.
Aranel kept the hood of his black cloak drawn to hide his hair mainly, which was a silver color that was not normal among Westeros. His features had often been described as androgynous, his face fair enough to be that of a womans but with a strong jaw; Many who had seen Aranel first assumed he was a woman until he opened his mouth to speak. It was something he had long ago learned to ignore, but it made him easy to pick out of a crowd, so when he needed to go about business without bringing notice, remaining covered had proven to be the most sound strategy. Aranel learned that King Robert Baratheon had arrived only a couple of hours prior to himself and that there would be a feast in his honor tonight. Aranel hoped that this would be distraction enough for him to find his query and do what he needed too.
With nothing to do but bide his time, Aranel walked along the streets and listened to what gossip he could among the townsfolk. Many of them were speaking about deserters from the Night's Watch that had been executed by Lord Eddard and there was talk about the Stark children having found and adopted direwolves to raise as companions. This piqued Aranel's interest but no one seemed to know anything worthwhile on the subject so he moved on fairly quickly. After two hours of wandering, Aranel found himself in Winter Town in order to find lodgings for the night before returning to Winterfell later that night to find the one he was searching for. Renting a room out for the night was easy enough, Aranel had enough gold to stay in town for as long as a month if he needed too before money would be a problem.
After the sun had set and Aranel knew the feast would be underway, he slipped into Winterfell using the same trick on the guards as he had earlier that day and sat atop a building watching as the man he had spent a year waiting for attacked a dummy with rage and carelessness, although there was skill buried beneath the attacks; most likely the practicing being done tonight was to relieve stress instead of hone skills. Aranel watched him for a time, trying to get a measure of the man before he approached him and did what he had come here to do. He watched from his perch as a dwarf spoke with him for a prolonged period, informing the younger man practicing that he should wear his title of 'bastard' openly like an armor. It was a result of cynicism bred from constant belittling and being made to feel inferior to others. Aranel could see how such advice was something the dwarf would give but he disagreed with it all the same. True, you should not let what others call you penetrate your skin, but you could change your fate so they remembered you as something other than bastard or dwarf. To change your fate and become something different, something more. When Tyrion Lannister, for that was the name of the dwarf who had been speaking with his query, left that was when Aranel climbed down from where he had been crouched in the bruising darkness and silently made his way towards the 'bastard' of Ned Stark.
"I wonder if you might help me." Aranel called out softly, watching passively as the man before with thick, black curly hair whirled around to face him with his sword in hand. Aranel admired his form for a moment, the master of arms had trained him well.
"What kind of help do you seek?" He asked, eyebrows drawn together as he took in the cloaked figure without lowering his weapon. It spoke of caution, which would serve him well in the coming future, so Aranel was glad to see he was cautious even within the keep he called home.
"I am searching for someone." Aranel replied, staying where he was but leaning some of his weight on his staff. Onyx eyes watched, analyzing the staff and most likely deeming it a threat, because the sword stayed raised with fingers firmly gripped around its handle.
"Why do you keep your hood drawn and who is it you are looking for?" was the terse reply, and Aranel smiled briefly before wiping the expression off of his face and lowering his hood to reveal the shockingly silver hair that fell straight to his shoulders, only two portions from his temples were pulled back and tied loosely to keep hair from obscuring his vision.
"Jon Snow." Aranel said, his pale green eyes watching as the man tensed.
"Why do you seek Jon Snow?" The young man before him asked, his eyes narrowing and fingers tightening his grip on the sword. Aranel wanted to chuckle but felt it was not appropriate for the situation, so instead relaxed his stance into the most non threatening position he could manage.
"I have come to help him, although he may not know that he needs it yet." Aranel responded, purposely vague. It had the desired reaction from Jon Snow because his eyebrows rose and his stance relaxed by a fraction, sword only lowering the tiniest amount, but it still spoke volumes to one versed in the language of bodies.
"I am Jon Snow." He said, straightening his back a little as he confirmed what Aranel already knew.
"Indeed." Aranel commented, knowing his face reflected the amusement that had seeped into his voice. This was the tricky part because it was the pinnacle point of the conversation, it was where Aranel must convince Jon Snow to allow him to accompany the bastard to wherever his feet may carry him.
"How do you believe you could help me and with what do you think I need help with, exactly?" Jon asked, his voice betraying the curiosity he felt as he looked upon the person in front of him. Aranel could feel Jon's eyes as they examined the silver hair that almost glowed in the courtyards meager lighting, pale eyes that were staring back into onyx orbs, and then the fair skin and angular features that made up Aranel's face.
"Would you follow me?" Aranel asked lightly, gesturing in the direction he wanted to go.
"Follow you where?" Jon asked, immediately suspicious of the man's intentions.
"The Godswood. I feel it is a more appropriate setting for a conversation such as this." Aranel replied, face serene as he gazed around Winterfell's keep. He noticed Jons hesitation and his lips quirked up in amusement. "You may bring the sword, if you desire. I admit it would be foolish to accompany a stranger to a secluded area although you have my word that no harm will befall you."
Jon hesitated only a moment more, watching as Aranel walked almost soundlessly across the keep towards the direction of the Godswood. Jon, sheathing the sword but keeping his hand on the hilt for quick access, followed the man curiously. Aranel was silent, passing through the path to his intended destination as sure footed as Jon was himself, making him wonder how he knew where to go. Jon did not remember ever seeing the man before, he would remember such distinct features, so had he been the Winterfell before Jon was old enough to remember? It seemed impossible considering the silver-haired man could not be more than a couple of years Jon's senior if at all.
"Is it not fair you give me your name since you know mine?" Jon asked, breaking the silence just as the Godswood came into sight.
"Aranel. I have no last name." Aranel replied softly, his voice barely carrying on the night's wind back to Jon's ears. It was a strange name, one that felt foreign on Jon's tongue and did not arouse any sort of familiarity in his memory. Jon watched as Aranel came upon the heart tree and kneeled before it, reverence and respect almost tangible in the air as he did so. Aranel stayed knelt down, his head bowed, before standing and facing Jon with an enigmatic look on his face.
"Why have you brought me here?" Jon asked, his voice lacking any sort of emotion besides the curiosity that was making his mind swim.
"I felt it a wise decision for many reason. The first being it is secluded and away from both prying eyes and ears. The second, is that I am comfortable here and the old gods are part of the reason why I have sought you out." Aranel answered readily, his eyes firmly on Jon's own. "The third reason is because oaths taken before the weirwood are, as I am sure you are aware, binding."
"What oath would you have me take?" Jon asked, immediately on edge at the mention of Oath's.
"I do not want you to swear an oath but to bear witness to one." Aranel corrected reassuringly, laying his staff down before the tree. "I do not know what path the old gods have placed you on, only that it is one that I have been tasked with following you down. I do not wish to go into depth too much until I know you better, but I tell you this because it is relevant to what I ask of you next. If you allow me to accompany, I will swear an oath here and know with you and the Old Gods as witnesses that I shall not harm you, allow any harm to befall you, or those you order me to protect as long as I still draw breath."
"I-" Jon was speechless, staring at the man who stood proudly before him and asked to.. What? Serve him as a bodyguard? "Is this a jest of some sort?"
"No, Jon Snow." Aranel replied, frowning. "I do not jest with you at all. It is what I desire above all else, it is the purpose that has guided me here and placed me before you. If you would allow it, all of my skills will be yours to use as you see fit. My purpose in life will be to protect yours, even if it means my death. I swear there are no ulterior motives, no selfish motivations, no one but the gods have urged me to come here today. They have whispered in my ear and given me purpose, and that purpose is to protect your life so you may carry out the actions you must in the future."
"I am not a lord who can have vassals. I have no great destiny or task to undertake. I am going to join the Night Watch where they will view me as more than the bastard of Ned Stark. This..this doesn't make any sense." Jon said, confusement prominent in his face. "I don't know why you think this of me, but at the wall, all men are equal and I can't bring a.. A bodyguard with me."
"The Wall always has need for able bodied soldiers and I am more so than most. I would not be a burden or a servant, but someone who I hope you may come to trust. I just ask that you allow me to serve my purpose." Aranel countered, moving forward slowly towards Jon who watched as his face turned to one of pleading as he knelt before Jon. "Please, allow me this and you won't regret it. I will follow you faithfully into Death's embrace if you would have me because this is what I have been tasked with."
Jon shuffled, unsure of what was happening. Jon couldn't wrap his head around how one moment he was beating angrily at a straw dummy because he was barred from attending the feast because he was a bastard and now he had a man he did not know asking if he could die for him. It was.. It felt strange. The look on the Aranel's face, as he looked into Jon's, as though there was nothing more he wanted than to come with him to the wall and make sure a wildling didn't run him through, it seemed completely sincere. Would it be wrong, to give him what he wanted? Jon wasn't sure and he let out a frustrated sound because of the conflict tearing through him.
"I don't want you to treat me as though I am your lord. I won't have you fetching things for me or treating me any differently than you would any other comrade. Do you understand that?" Jon said, the last phrase a question that Aranel quickly nodded to let him know he understood. "I don't know why you want this. I admit even know I am conflicted on whether this is a smart idea, but you are right that the Wall needs men, so I will allow you to accompany me as long as you remain loyal to Westeros. There is a great chance you will be required to take the black, and if you do so, that oath must come before any Oath you make here to me today. You will follow your commander's orders, even if it puts me in danger. If you agree, I will accept you as a comrade and companion."
"I, Aranel, swear on this night to protect you Jon Snow, as though it were my very own life I was protecting. My arm will be an extension of your own, my last breath will be drawn in order to allow you one more, my life for yours. I will follow you until you order me otherwise, will protect those you task me to protect, and will carry out your will as though it were my own. I swear from this day to my last, I will remain a steadfast and loyal companion until you deem me useless or unwanted." Aranel said reverently, his silver head bowed before Jon.
"Stand up." Jon said, embarrassed from the proclamation. The situation was so strange, he wasn't sure what to make of it or the man before him, but the deed was done. Aranel stood, supporting more of his weight on his staff, and smiling at Jon as though he had just given him something of great value; this only served to increase how red Jon's cheeks were. "I have to pack and speak with my Uncle Benjen. We are leaving, I'll let you know when tomorrow and I need to make sure he is fine with you coming along. Where are you staying?"
After telling Jon the name of the inn in Winter Town that Aranel was staying at, he made his way back to his room with a satisfied air about him. That had honestly gone smoother than Aranel had thought it would, so now all that was left was to eat a proper meal and get a good night's rest. After all, the journey to the wall and life at the wall were both harsh and winter was coming far too quickly for Aranel's liking.
A/N: Please let me know what you think! The more reviews, the faster the updates. Thank you!