Noxious Snow
Part 2
It wasn't often that Jon Snow was permitted to sit with the Starks of Winterfell at their table in the dining hall, but when he was, it always tended to play out the same with Catelyn Stark who ever since the baby Snow was brought into her company had loathed his existence. It was a complicated thing, although she found it impossible to admit verbally she did not hate Jon Snow but what he was and what that meant to her. Jon Snow was the product of the worst crime a man could commit from the point of view of a devoted wife and it was that which she saw every time she looked upon Snow's face – she could not love him but she could not hate him so the only way to live was to act cold and spiteful because deep down it ached and this option was the easiest to live with. Jon however was used to it of course and tended to avoid looking towards Lady Stark whenever he was in her presence, so today he was glad to be sitting at her far side with Robb to his left and Arya to his right – the two Stark siblings that favoured him the most as an addition to their family.
The long mahogany table was filled with plates of fine foods from succulent meats, crunchy vegetables and freshly baked bread to crumbly biscuits and fragrant cakes. The Stark children were always known to be rather chatty at the dinner table and today was no different especially because of the occasion.
"I can't believe this is your eighteenth name day already Jon, you're so old!" Arya commented as she took a bite out of the chicken leg she was holding between her fingers – making little effort to look ladylike at all. Catelyn probably would have scolded her if it wasn't for the fact she was being blocked out of her mother's sight by both her older brothers.
"I don't feel any different than I did yesterday if I'm honest," Jon chuckled in response enjoying the freshly baked kidney pie in front of him which was now half eaten and smothered in extra gravy, the way he liked it.
"Can I see it?" Arya asked, earning herself a puzzled look from Jon, "Robb told me father gave you a Valyrian blade, can I see it?" The younger Stark daughter's fascination with swords and weaponry was no longer a surprise to the family, but they were still yet to accept the fact that Arya Stark was more like a son than a daughter except Jon, who understood exactly what it was like to be the odd one out.
"After dinner," Jon winked, enjoying the way Arya's face blossomed in delight as she hugged her him in the best way she could, given the angle and the obstruction of seating. The scraping of a chair and the sound of Ned's booming voice caught the family's attention as they all looked towards the towering figure standing proud.
"I have an announcement, I have decided to take Robb and Jon on an extended hunting trip in the forest to celebrate them both recently becoming men, I plan to leave an hour after dinner while we still have enough light," Lord Stark declared turning his gaze towards the end of the table where said mentioned sons were sitting.
"Can I come too!?" Arya beseeched loudly, jumping from her seat and accidentally knocking her still half-full goblet which rocked and was caught before tipping by the lightning fast reflex of Jon Snow. Ned shook his head, "no Arya, the woods is no place for a little girl; this is just for your brothers." The youngest daughter pouted and crossed her arms, dramatically sitting herself back down on her seat with a huff while muttering under her breath about how unfair her father was being.
"Maybe when you get a little older I'll take you on a little hunting trip, just don't tell your mother I said this," Jon whispered leaning close to his sister knowing that if he was overheard Catelyn would surely want his head, he didn't need to give her anymore reason to hate him.
"Really?" Arya smiled as Jon nodded matching the reaction. There were no words to describe how much he loved his siblings, he truly would do anything for them.
"And why is that you do such a thing for your bastard child, rather than your own son, why could you not have done it for Robb's name day!?" Catelyn reprimanded turning a once lively atmosphere sour. Her almost furious voice clawed the air as it left her mouth and took damage in Jon's ears in particular. Feeling a shred of rejection once again pierce his heart, Jon suddenly found his appetite silenced.
"My dear, this is equally for the both of them, I decided it would be much simpler to take them together considering Jon is only four months younger than Robb, Catelyn they are both my children and deserve my attention," Ned argued calmly, still unable to fully comprehend his wife's sheer stubborn loathing towards Jon when in truth he was the innocent in all the complication but then again his view was very different from hers. It wasn't like Jon had asked to be born a bastard and deep down Ned did indeed wish that somehow Jon could have been born to Catelyn instead.
"Your attention?" Lady Stark sneered, "Your real family deserves your attention, not the child of some woman you slept with all those years ago."
Jon stood up. Without even a glance towards his so called fake family he left the dining hall with the mental excuse that he needed to pack for his trip, though in truth he did not want to hear anything else Catelyn had to say. This was the whole reason why he always felt alienated around his own siblings and that he could never truly be a part of family. He ignored the calls he received from nearly every other voice in the room from the people that truly cared about him because he was too afraid to turn around.
Soon enough Jon found himself back in his bedchambers sitting on the soft furs of his bed hunched over with his prized new sword on his lap. His fingers mindless trailed across the ice-cold metal as Catelyn's words plagued his thoughts and haunted his emotions. Although he saw the Starks as his real family by nature of needing a family to survive, it was hard to be reminded that there would always be a shadow cast over him, one that could never be removed. He was not a Stark of Winterfell. He never would be. But he could always love the siblings and father that were bound by blood. As his fingers reached the hilt, he delicately traced the wolf carving, the sigil of the Stark household, thinking of how it was both a gift and a curse to be a part of. His wandering mind was torn from his dwelling thoughts as a knock at his door became the perfect distraction.
"It's me, Robb, may I come in?" The eldest Stark didn't have to ask twice to be granted entrance into his younger brother's room. Jon put up a smile as Robb emerged from the hallway quickly closing the door behind him to keep the privacy.
"I would have thought you'd still be at dinner, last I remembered you still had a full plate of food in front of you," Jon commented, knowing full well that his sibling could not have eaten that fast.
"So did you," Robb remarked making short distance of the space between them and sitting down besides Jon on the bed. Jon's focus turned back to the blade, not one scratch could been seen on its flawless exterior. A sword that had yet to see battle, a sword that still had no stories to tell and no souls to its name.
"So have you thought of a name for it yet? A Valyrian blade should definitely have a name," Robb inquired only finding interest in the glimmer of metal for a short period before looking back up at the solemn face of his brother.
"Longclaw," Snow answered, finding that to be a fitting title for such a beauty.
"Hmmm that's sounds like a good name, very Stark-like," the older male agreed deciding that he now wanted nothing more than to see his brother smile. It didn't seem right for him to look so upset, or well Jon's way of looking upset which tended to just be a neutral expression with a hint of grimness and a little less talking. He was never one to burst into tears, but after all the years they had spent together Robb had learnt to read him like a book. Besides it was always the eyes that gave it away, Jon may have mastered hiding hurt in the rest of his face but those dark grey irises told too many truths and were drowned with emotion.
"I apologise for my mother, what she said was uncalled for but the reason why I came here was not to apologise on her behalf for something she should have the dignity to do herself but to give you my present, it isn't as fancy as a Valyrian blade but, it's still something," Robb announced reaching down to his belt and unsheathing a decorated dagger with a hand-carved hilt in the pattern of spiralling ivy and the initials J.S. underneath. He handed the item to Jon waiting for a reaction.
"J.S. Jon Snow," the younger male muttered finding the weapon quite beautiful.
"Or Jon Stark, could be either don't you think?" Robb corrected as expressive grey eyes turned to meet his soothing blue.
"I won't tell if you won't," he shrugged as he broke into a grin hoping that it would knock his sibling into a more positive mood. Jon couldn't refrain from smiling for very long, Robb always had a knack for cheering him up.
"Thank you Robb," Snow voiced his gratitude as he placed his two new weapons on the bed beside him.
"Now give your big brother a hug," Stark laughed, holding out his arms which were almost immediately filled with Snow who hugged him tightly, reminding himself that even through the shame of being a bastard he most certainly ended up with the biggest gift of all. Robb took a particularly deep breath as he pulled away and stood himself up, "well I better go pack, you know what father's like about time keeping, if I'm not finished the moment he is ready to leave then it is tough luck, you take what you got even if it's just the clothes on your back." He continued to the door, "remember to pack your bedroll Jon," he reminded, not turning around as he walked.
"I know," Jon uttered.
"And a wineskin."
"Got it."
"Oh and not forgetting a decent number of arrows, for hunting of course."
"Yes, Robb, I'm not a fool I do know how to pack for a hunt."
"I know you do brother, I was just checking," the Stark heir smiled as he slipped through the open door.
