Frozen Tears
Jon Snow sat awake late at night. It did not matter of how exhausted his body was. His mind refused to rest. Jon felt sweat coating on his brow even from the cold air that was seeping through from outside. The young man surveyed his surroundings around him, his exhausted eyes squinting in the dark. His black brothers were sleeping peacefully now. In the wake of battle, they had slept fitfully and twitched in their sleep. Now Jon's brothers were silent. If Jon didn't know any better, he would have thought they were dead if not for the slow and steady rises from their chests. A part of Jon wanted to go into the oblivion of sleep as well, but he couldn't. His eyes would not close no matter how hard he willed them too. Memories were keeping him awake. Memories of sadness and despair were keeping him awake, and no matter how many times he relived those memories, he could not cry.
It was soon after Stannis Baratheon had arrived. Jon Snow remembered limping up to Castle Black, seeing men in shining armor and bearing sigils of their Houses, talking, as he had passed them. "They say that the King in the North is dead, killed by the Freys." With a sick feeling in his stomach, Jon remembered of how the knight's face had been gleeful. "King Stannis' claim to the Throne is good as gold now!" Jon remembered too of how the knight's face had changed from satisfied to disdainful as he had limped forward to the knight. They thought me as nothing more than a lowly black brother, Jon thought dully. The knight and many others had told him of how Robb Stark, the King in the North, had been killed along with his men during a wedding hosted by the Freys. "Why?" Jon remembered vividly of how his voice had shaken with disbelief and desperation. It had almost been as if he was a green boy again, and not a hardened man by the battle that had just recently passed. "Why did they kill him?" Jon Snow remembered too of how the knight had looked at him curiously, pity clear in his eyes. My brother had broken his vows to the Freys and married the woman that he broken her maidenhead with, Jon thought as the darkness continued to rain down upon him. He remembered of how he had said nothing to the knight, and of how he had only limped dazedly away, oblivious to his surroundings.
I had wanted to say that Robb would never do such a thing, for he was a man of honor. Jon had wanted to say those words to every knight that had told him what happened thereafter. But then I remembered of how my brother would say the same about me when he heard the truth. I had forsaken my vows in the Night's Watch and had slept with a wildling woman. I had considered becoming one of them. Robb would not believe this, as much as I would never believe that he had broken his vows to the Freys.
Instead of feeling the rage over what had happened at the Red Wedding, or hate aimed at the Freys, Jon only felt sadness. It had been different when my father was murdered. Jon remembered wanting revenge for his father's death, and bloodlust to kill any Lannisters across his path. Now there was only a dull throb in his heart. I am no longer the boy I used to be, Jon analyzed. A part of him wondered if his brother would have welcomed such feelings instead of wanting to avenge him. Jon wouldn't know, nor would he ever. He remembered the last words he had with Robb.
"Farwell, Snow."
"And you, Stark. Take care of Bran."
I had thought we would meet again…be it at the Wall or Winterfell. I thought I would see Robb and Bran safe and sound, knights perhaps, and proud direwolves. Now…that cannot come to pass. Jon remembered getting the news that his youngest brothers, Bran and Rickon, had been murdered by Theon Greyjoy. Now he also had the news that his best friend, and closest brother, had been slaughtered by the Freys with no burial. Somehow Jon felt the hole in his heart becoming bigger, and he felt more exhausted than ever. Why am I alive when the family I had known is lost or dead? Why am I still here?
Jon's first memory had been walking to his brother. He remembered vaguely of how his childish laugh had echoed through his chamber. He had been walking to his older brother for the first time, and remembered the happiness in Robb's blue eyes that day. Father had told me that I had been able to walk early, contrary to Robb. It seemed to him that I had walked early to be with his trueborn son, and he later told me of how Robb had started to walk the next day. Jon had been happy with his older brother, happier than he had been with Arya, in fact. It had seemed to many that the two children – one with dark hair and grey eyes, the other with auburn and blue eyes – that both of them were more like full-blooded brothers than half-brothers. Once as a child of six, Jon had been in the unfortunate positron to be in the room when Robb had asked his lady mother a question. "Will Father one day make Jon a Stark?" Jon remembered vividly of how Lady Stark had not stared at her auburn haired son, but had stared at him with cold eyes, as cold as the coldest winter. The young boy he had been stunned at the amount of hatred in her gaze. "We don't want you here." Jon Snow had cried then, his tears blurring his vision, and had left the room, ignoring Robb who was calling his name behind him.
"Jon! Jon!" He remembered vividly of how Robb had untangled him from his fetal position and had hugged him as he cried. "We'll always be brothers, no matter what happens."
"Always?" Jon remembered of how his swollen grey eyes had met his brother's pensive blue, and remembered how Robb had nodded.
"Always."
Jon whispered his brother's words softly. "We'll always be brothers, no matter what happens." Jon had hoped that Robb Stark's spirit would live in his direwolf, Grey Wind, but that hope had disintegrated into ashes once the knights told him of how the Freys had murdered the King in the North's direwolf too, and had sowed Grey Wind's head on where the King's head was supposed to be. The pain had been stronger than the red-hot needle that had scarred his leg, and was even stronger than his beloved's death. Too many people have died, Jon Snow thought.
His heart's hole was bleeding with pain, and Jon wanted to cry from all the pain that was searing through him…
…But he couldn't, for there were frozen tears already inside him.
