Disclaimer: Game of Thrones and all related characters and plotlines do not belong to me.
Solitary Confinement
The stone wall in front of him was gray and bleak and boring but nine year old Jon Snow didn't dare look away. Lady Stark had ordered him to stand in the corner and stare at the wall until she came back and told him he could move.
Jon knew he deserved it. He had made Arya, beautiful, smart, tiny Arya cry. He and Robb had been practicing sparring in one of the castle's spare rooms. They had been using the wooden training swords their father had given them and little Arya, eager to join in the fun, had gotten between them.
Jon had been mid swing and he hadn't been able to stop himself in time. The blow had hit Arya on the side of the head and knocked her down. For a moment time had seemed to freeze.
And then Arya had screamed.
Jon had never heard a scream like that before. Blood had been on the side of Arya's face and Jon remembers trading a terrified glance with Robb, neither of them knowing what to do. And then Lady Stark had been there. She had rounded on Jon instantly, fury radiating off of her, and dragged him to the corner where she had told him to stay, to not even move, and then she had scooped up the still screaming Arya and swept out of the room, taking Robb with her.
Jon has no idea how much time has passed since, the minutes to him seeming to stretch endlessly, but tears have long since overflowed and spilled down his cheeks. Arya. Jon can't even imagine her not being okay. She has to be okay. Has to.
When the day's light starts to fade and Jon shifts his feet some despite Lady Stark's decree not to move. He can't help it though, he knows he deserves this punishment but he's starting to have to - he needs to - he needs to pee. It's been a couple hours at least, Jon's sure. Arya must be taken care of by now. She must be all right. Though Lady Stark had said nothing about coming back as soon as Arya was okay Jon still tells himself that she will come any moment. Any moment.
His penis twitches against the fabric of his trousers and he whimpers, the friction not helping him in his to control his bladder. He's far too old to soil his trousers, of course, but with each passing moment his need increases and he's starting to, well, not worry exactly, but - surely Lady Stark will come back soon though.
Surely she won't leave him here.
A swell of need washes over him and he wants to grab his member but he knows better. What if Lady Stark walks in while he's holding himself? She would be disgusted and she might make Jon stay in the corner even longer. His penis twitches again, rubbing against the inside of his trousers, and he whimpers and presses his thighs together in an effort to trap his penis between them and relieve some of the pressure.
He's ashamed to admit it but he wants - he wants his father or even Robb to come.
Eddard Stark is away though and will be for at least a week longer and Jon knows he deserves this for hurting Arya anyway - deserves it - but he's afraid Lady Stark has forgotten him. In truth he's afraid of Lady Stark, period. Lady Stark with her cold glares and even colder words. Father's different though, when Father's around Lady Stark, well she isn't nice but she mostly ignores him. And Father wouldn't leave him here in the corner for hours, Father would come back for him even if he deserves to be here for hurting Arya.
Father would let him go relieve himself and so would Robb. He and Robb teased each other often but Jon had no doubts whatsoever that Robb would help him if he needed it but Lady Stark had taken Robb, taken him with Arya, and Jon hasn't seen them since.
He loses control then, just for a second, a second, but it's enough to cause a patch of wetness right at the tip of his penis, rubbing against it tauntingly, and fresh tears spill down his cheeks.
"L-Lady S-Stark?" he calls softly, his voice trembling, hoping against hope that she's within hearing distance. She doesn't like it when he calls for her, Jon knows that, but she would like it even less if he peed in his trousers, right?
Lady Stark doesn't answer though and Jon is unsure if she's not around or if she's just ignoring him. Maybe testing him. She had told him not to move and while she hadn't said not to talk Jon knows how she dislikes when he speaks, is all too familiar with the thin line her mouth becomes, the way her eyes studiously ignore him.
He shifts from foot to foot then, unable to help himself, trying to find a stance that relieves some of the pressure and his penis rubs against the small spot of wetness on his trousers once more and suddenly he's peeing, urine gushing out of him, the front of his trousers rapidly darkening with quickly spreading liquid, and he can't stop it.
Gasping, Jon presses his hands to his crotch and doubles over, forgetting in his utter panic how close he is to the wall and cracking his head on the hard stone.
Pain takes his vision and steals his thoughts and he sinks to the floor, dazed and unaware.
He's still peeing when he loses consciousness.
When Jon wakes the room is dark and he's lying in a puddle of cold urine.
There's no sign of Lady Stark.
Slowly he gets to his feet, groaning. His head is throbbing.
Miserably he turns back to his corner and resumes staring at the wall. He doesn't know what else to do. He's fairly confident that Lady Stark has forgotten him but she told him not to move until she said he could and Jon doesn't doubt she will remember that if she sees him not in his corner.
The room's fireplace is not lit and it's cold and, drenched as he is, Jon is soon shivering violently.
Misery, humiliation, boredom, pain, and hunger war for dominance.
He both wants Lady Stark to come and doesn't. Longs for and dreads her arrival.
When he starts to have to pee again he fights it at first but then, biting his lip, his heart pounding wildly, he lets it go. He's already covered head to toe in his own pee anyway and he's so, so cold. At least it will be warm for a little bit.
The hot pee streams down his legs and he moans, ashamed and relieved in almost equal measure.
Once he is finished the warmth fades all too quickly and he's left colder than before; wet, wretched, miserable, and reeking of urine.
Eventually Lady Stark comes, appearing in the dark doorway long enough to snap at him to go to bed.
Jon is crying again by the time he reaches Robb's door, telling himself that Lady Stark hadn't actually said he was to go to his bed and while he doesn't want Robb to see him like this he needs somebody - somebody to care - and he also needs to know -
"Arya?" Jon croaks when Robb opens his door, his voice hoarse with hours of disuse and worry.
"Jon," Robb gasps, wide eyes taking Jon in and Jon doesn't know how much Robb can actually see with only the dim candlelight that spills from his chambers to illuminate but he can no doubt smell the pee that Jon is covered in Jon feels his cheeks burn.
"I c-couldn't h-hold," he stutters, trying to explain but Robb shakes his head.
"This is Mother's fault. Not yours," his brother says and Robb is only nine like Jon but he sounds so sure, so grown up. So like the lord he will one day be.
"I deserved it," Jon mutters, too ashamed to meet Robb's eyes. "Arya -"
"Is fine," Robb interrupts. "She screamed for a bit but Maester Luwin patched her up. "I would have come to get you but Mother didn't let me out of her sight until a few moments ago."
And that... was nice to know actually. That Robb had been thinking of him and had wanted to come while he had wanted someone, anyone (Father, Robb), to be there.
Fresh tears prick Jon's eyes and Robb tactfully doesn't comment. "Come," he says, drawing Jon into his chambers. "Mother retired for the night. She won't know if you stay here and I'll have someone come and draw a bath."
Jon closes his eyes and breathes. His head still aches and in the back of his thoughts Lady Stark lurks but for now Arya is fine and Robb is here and he's not alone.
The End