Jon sneaks away into the shadows from unwanted shifty eyes, and as cold as the air are gazes he wishes to disappear from. He calls the shadows his only friend, besides his dire wolf, Ghost, who slinks away with him,always by his side.
The morning air hits Jon as he runs at full speed from the castle into the forest, his true home. There his isn't a bastard, nor does he have to be pretend to be a Stark, he isn't even a nobody there. In the forest he is Jon,where no harm can dare to touch him.
Unless an uprooted tree root is sticking up from the earth, and Jon accidentally trips himself,and cuts his cheek on the harsh base of the tree trunk.
Jon brings his hand to feel the gash, it isn't deep but the blood flows too fast and too freely. He wipes it all away with the back of his hand and tries not to let tears fall from his eyes for the one hundredth time.
He sits down on a soft rock near the stream and Ghost finally catches back up with him. Jon's furry companion sits down on his haunches beside him, and places his head on Jon's thigh.
Ghost closes his eyes as his master runs his hand over his head, and Jon smiles down at him, the feeling of tears long gone from him now.
Tears. The thing that he has grown to know well here in Winterfell. The people here are cruel to him,and make their displeasure known. It isn't their hurtful words, nor their nasty glances and glares they send his way, it is the feeling of his nonexistence that is hurtful. When ever there wasn't a stranger walking pass him in the castle streets to remind his of his lowly place, he was mostly ignored all together.
Of course his father always acknowledges him,but Lady Stark,and the rest of his siblings all but simply thought as if he were never there, that he was simply a shadow that came to Winterfell beside Ned that evening a few years ago.
Now at age fourteen Jon knows not to expect much, and to expect very little, the life of a bastard he will always live. He accepted that fate from the time he was finally able to understand it, to grasp it's meaningless meaning.
The snap of a twig cracks Jon out of his thoughts, Ghost is turned to the sound growling deeply with hackles rised.
"Its just me."
Robb, his older brother by two years steps out from behind a tree with Grey Wind following after him.
Jon grows stiff while watching Robb walking over to him. Ghost and Grey Wind greet each other like happily, the two direwolf brothers are soon running around and chasing each others tails through the forest underbrush.
Robb laughs at the two and sits down beside Jon, who grumpily had to slide over some just to make room his his half-brother.
Jon keeps his head down and eyes focused on a trail of ants by his feet, he doesn't speak to Robb. Why should he? Not once since he's been here in Winterfell had his brother ever sought him out, let alone spoken to him. Jon clinches his his into fist so tight he thought blood would be drawn.
A soft hand slightly bigger than his own is placed over his, and he grows so tense he thought Robb might pull back, but he only tightens his grip.
Jon finally looks up into concerned blue eyes and he could almost feel his breath hitch in his throat. But why? Robb's eyes widened in alarm as he finally notices the cut on his brother's right cheek already dried with blood.
He immediately rips a strip of cloth from his shirt and begins to dab it in the stream by his boot. Jon winces when the coolness from the soaked cloth touches his cheek softly, the remaining blood is wiped away.
"What happened Jon? You're always so clumsy always hurting yourself one way or another." Robb chuckles a little, as if he is recalling memories to Jon as if their were...close.
Jon found that hard to believe that his brother would even know how clumsy he was, believing him to always be invisible. He felt something in is chest that he never felt before...hope. Hope was a dangerous thing, but Jon's never had it before so how could he really know. All he was hoping for at that moment was to find a brother, a friend, in this moment in time.
Robb gently rubs his thumb over Jon's cheek. If he could notice the red blush appearing on his younger brother's face he doesn't speak it aloud, and Jon's breath hitches again when blue eyes look down into his grey ones.
"Do I make you uncomfortable?"
Jon doesn't answer right away not trusting his voice to be in the right octave like it should. But he speaks anyways. "A little." It comes out in a small squeak and Jon clinches both he eyes and fist shut, trying to turn away from his older brother.
Robb stops his rubbing and places both his hands on each side on Jon's face forcing the younger to meet his gaze. "Don't ever be, we are brothers, and we should feel as safe in each others presence as Ghost and Grey Wind are."
His eyes widen up at Robb, and he could almost feel tears prickling his eyes. This was the first time that he has ever been acknowledge as someone. Brothers.
"We are brothers, even if I have acted as if we aren't, and as hard as you tried you could never become invisible to me."
Jon lets them go every last drop of tears that he's had bottled up inside. Robb's the first and only person who as ever seen him cry, but under his big brother's gaze he feels like he can finally let go and be free.
Robb kisses away his tears and let one kiss linger over his cut, Jon enjoys the attention he receives and doesn't care to figure out why Robb's kisses leave a tingling inside him.
By now Ghost and Grey Wind have returned and both go to their respected master's sides.
Jon shivers from a cold wind that blows in from the north, and Robb throws his dark fur coat around him. He blushes realizing it was a gesture only men would do for their ladies, but again Jon doesn't care to figure it all out why.
His brother stands up, he was tall enough that his red-brown curls caught the fingers on the tree,he pulls Jon to his feet and together they walk back to the castle as the day begins to darken into oncoming night.
Both direwolves run up ahead at their own pace,but the two human brothers walk slower and a little bit more closer than either is used to. Jon surprises himself when he reaches for Robb's hand,who in turn molds their hands together until their fingers fit perfect against one another. Was this meant to be?