coldblue: I love "The Lion With Antlers", it's one of my favorites as well. Your suggestions are actually really inspiring and I may plan on using a few as the story progresses.
LordTaurusBlack: by seeing Noah as a Kingsguard, he may have some struggles with things with his brother as king.
Arya.
Some people just aren't good at certain things, and Arya Stark seemed to be bad at everything that a lady was supposed to be good at. From wearing dresses to reading books and now, making her stitches straight. They were a mess, unlike her older sister Sana's, who was always good at everything that a lady was supposed to be good at.
Septa Mordane was too busy instructing Princess Myrcella on her needlework, giving her small suggestions on how to make it better. If it had been Arya, she wouldn't have been so kind when trying to fix her work. Septa Mordane just liked kissing the ground the princess walked on. After all, she was as elegant as Sansa.
Sansa always was the more favorited Stark sister. She was beautiful, her auburn hair a gorgeous and always clean color, and seemed to make more friends than Arya could count. Arya didn't have many friends, the people she played with were always commoner boys and her sister was quick to tell their mother or Septa Mordane when she saw Arya playing with one of them. Jon, despite being her half brother, always felt like her closest friend in Winterfell. Sansa seemed to hate him, always reminding people that Jon was her bastard brother. Sansa was whispering and giggling with her friends on the opposite side of the room, and she swore she saw she saw Sansa's eyes flash over to her.
"What are you talking about?" Arya asked.
Sansa's friend Jeyne Poole, looked over and giggled. None of the girls answered her, making Arya grow angry with frustration.
"Tell me." she urged.
"We were talking about the prince." Sansa said softly.
"Which one?" Arya asked, there were three of them after all.
"The Crown Prince likes your sister. He told her she was very beautiful." Jeyne said.
"He's going to marry her," Beth Cassel said. "Then Sansa will be queen of all the realm."
"What's wrong with Noah?" Arya asked, glancing at Sansa who blushed.
"Noah's dream is to be Kingsguard. They aren't allowed to marry, don't you know anything?" Jeyne said, looking at Arya as if she were completely stupid.
"Beth, you shouldn't make up stories," Sansa said to Beth, ignoring Arya and Jeyne's comment on the oldest prince. She looked to Arya, "What did you think of Prince Joff, sister? He's very gallant, don't you think?"
"Jon says he looks like a girl," Arya said. The Crown Prince always had a weird look on his face, and his features did make him look a bit like one of the girls in the room.
Sansa sighed, "Poor Jon, he gets jealous because he's a bastard."
"He's our brother." Arya said loudly, causing Septa Mordane to look up from helping the princess.
"What are you talking about, children?" she asked.
"Our half brother." Sansa corrected, causing Arya to roll her eyes. "Arya and were remarking on how please we were to have the princess with us today," she said.
"Indeed, a great honor for us all." Septa Mordane said, noticing Arya had abandoned her needlework on the table. "Let me see your stitches."
Arya looked nervously down at the stitches on the table, pushing it over to Septa Mordane. Septa Mordane tutted at Arya's work, shaking her head. Arya could hear giggles from the other girls in the room, surely making fun of her inadequate needlework. To spare herself anymore embarrassment, she got down from the chair and hurried towards the door.
"Arya! Come back here! Don't you take another step or your lady mother will hear of this. In front of our royal princess too! You shame us all!"
Arya turned around in the threshold of the door, "By your leave, my lady."
"Just where do you think you are going, Arya?" the septa demanded, her eyes narrowing.
"I have to go shoe a horse." she said before turning around and running away. She needed to be as far away from the septa, Sansa, the princess, and all of the obnoxious girls in the room. They were overrated anyway.
"Shouldn't you be working on your stitches, little sister?" Jon asked, as Arya climbed the sill to sit next to him.
There was a slapping of wooden coming from down below, an occasional hoot of laughter or grunt. Jon was watching them with observant eyes, his hound Ghost next to him as usual. Arya's own wolf Nymeria approached Ghost and laid down next to him.
"I wanted to watch them fight." she informed Jon.
Down below, Arya saw her brother Bran and the youngest prince Tommen sparring down below. Well, sort of sparring, if you called occasionally hitting each other with a wooden sword sparring. Both were extremely padded, panting and winded as they slashed away at each other. It seemed like an effort for both of them just to attempt to swing at the other, the wood sword was so heavy. Ser Rodrick Cassel watched them carefully, so was Robb, Theon, Noah, and Joffrey. Noah was leaning on the stone wall, occasionally chuckling at Arya's brother and his own youngest brother as they sparred. Robb who was next to him, was occasionally saying inaudible things to Noah to make him laugh. Both Robb and Noah's hair was damp from sweat, messy and getting in their faces whenever the wind blew. Joffrey looked like he would rather not be there, and didn't contribute to their conversation at all, his hair still perfect and blonde. More men and squires stood around them, also watching the match with different levels of interest.
"A shade more exhausting than needlework." Jon observed.
"A shade more fun than needlework." Arya countered, as Jon reached over to ruffle her hair.
Both sat in contentment as they watched the rest of the young boy's sparring match, noticing something she hadn't thought about before.
"Why do you think that Noah is the only one who has black hair?" Arya asked. She looked at Joffrey and Tommen, both with brilliant blonde hair. Even Myrcella had elegant blonde curls that fell down her back.
"Why is it you look more like your father than any of your siblings?" Jon countered.
Arya thought about it, she and Noah did share the fact that neither of them looked anything like their siblings. Maybe he would understand where she was coming from when she said she didn't fit in among them.
"Don't say that, their your siblings too." Arya said. "Do you think Noah's a bastard?"
Jon laughed, "Doubtful. Look at him, if you don't see King Robert in him than you must be blind."
"Well maybe he's a bastard because Queen Cersei isn't his mother." Arya thought, realizing it was a stupid observation immediately after it left her mouth.
Jon continued to laugh, "It doesn't work that way, little sister."
Another thought struck Arya, and this one wasn't as stupid as the prior. "Why aren't you down in the yard?" she asked.
Jon's laughter faded, his smile still remained though. "Bastards are not allowed to damage young princes. Any bruises they take in the practice yard must come from trueborn swords."
"Oh." Arya said, averting her eyes from Jon. Maybe it had been a stupid thing to say.
"I think I could do just as good as Bran," she said. "He's ten and I'm eleven."
For seventeen, Jon carried a lot of wits and wisdom despite being a bastard. "You're too skinny. I doubt you could even lift a longsword, little sister, never mind swing one."
She glared at Jon, his clearly playful comment not helping. She turned back to Bran and Tommen, who clearly were in their last moments of the match. Both were clearly more exhausted than before, only taking a few strikes at each other.
"You see Prince Joffrey and Prince Noah?" Jon asked.
"What about them?" Arya asked, noticing them both.
"Look at the arms on their surcoats," Jon pointed towards both princes.
Arya looked at Joffrey, the arms on his coat divided down the middle. On the left was a crowned stag of the royal House, and a roaring lion of the Lannisters on the right. From there she looked at Noah, whose arms had the same sigil as Joffrey's. It was rather odd that two house appeared on the arms, instead of just their father's House.
"The Lannisters are proud," Jon said. "You'd think the royal sigil would be sufficient, but no. They make their mother's House equal in honor to the king's."
"The woman is important too!" Arya protested.
"The Lannisters must be a great influence on the children of the king and queen that it was enough to make them add a lion to their sigil." Jon said. "Perhaps you should do the same thing, little sister. Wed Tully to Stark in your arms."
"A wolf with a fish in its mouth?" she laughed. "That would look silly. Besides, if a girl can't fight, why should she have a coat of arms?"
Jon shrugged, "Girls get the arms but not the swords. Bastards get the swords but not the arms. I did not make the rules, little sister."
When they looked back down at the courtyard, Tommen was rolling around in the dirt trying to get up but was unable to due to the great amount of padding on him. Arya's younger brother was standing over him preparing to hit him again with his wooden sword.
"Enough!" Ser Rodrik yelled. "Well fought. Lew, Donnis, help them out of their armor. Prince Joffrey, Robb, will you go another round?"
"Gladly." Robb said, pushing off from the wall.
Joffrey moved into the sunlight, his blonde hair almost sparkling in the sun. "This game is for children, Ser Rodrik."
Theon laughed, "You are children." he said.
"Robb may be a child. I am a prince. And I grow tired of swatting at Starks with a play sword."
"You got more swats than you gave, Joff," Robb said. "Are you afraid?"
"Joffrey is truly a little shit." Jon said to Arya as they watched what was happening below unfold.
"What are you suggesting?" Ser Rodrik asked the Crown Prince.
"Live steel."
"Done," Robb shot back. "You'll be sorry!"
Ser Rodrik shook his head, "Live steel is too dangerous. I will permit you tourney swords, with blunted edges."
A strange man next to Joffrey with a burned face spoke for Joffrey instead, his voice sounding much like a growl from a dog. "This is your prince. Who are you to tell him he may not have an edge on his sword, ser?"
"Master-at-arms of Winterfell, Clegane, and you would do well not to forget it." Ser Rodrik shot back.
"Are you training women here?" the man asked.
"I am training knights."
"How old are you?" Clegane asked Robb.
"Seventeen." Robb said, his chest puffing out.
"I killed a man when I was twelve, and it wasn't with a blunt edge."
"Let me do it. I can beat him." Robb said to Ser Rodrik, his face angry.
"Beat him with a tourney blade, then," Ser Rodrik said.
Joffrey shrugged, "Come and see me when you're older, Stark. If you're not too old." The Lannister men laughed in response, and Noah pushed off from the part of the stone wall he had been observing from. He quickly stepped in between Joffrey and Robb, keeping Robb from attacking his younger brother.
"I'll spar with you if you want." Noah grunted, as Robb tried to get by him. "Tourney blades, just like we did with the wood swords a little while ago."
"It's not worth it anymore." Robb said as Joffrey left with Tommen. He had pushed himself off of Noah and Theon, glaring at the Crown Prince retreating back to the castle.
From where Arya sat, she watched Jon, who was watching them leave. Robb hurried off towards the exit of the courtyard, picking a different exit than the one the two younger Baratheon boys had left in. Noah was left in the courtyard watching Robb's retreating back, his head snapping up to see Jon and Arya watching them. He stared for a moment before looking back down and quickly walking towards where Joffrey and Tommen had just exited, disappearing into the castle.
"The show is done," Jon said. "You had best run back to your room, little sister. Septa Mordane will surely be lurking. The longer you hide, the sterner the penance. You'll be sewing all through winter. When the spring thaw comes, they will find your body with a needle still locked tight between your frozen fingers."
"I hate needlework!" she said, her face reddening. "It's not fair."
"Nothing's fair." Jon said, getting up from his spot next to her to leave with Ghost at his side.
Tyrion.
He didn't know how he ended up in the dog kennel, laying on smelly hay and curled up with a dog. He was still in the clothes he wore the night before, and his legs were stiff from sleeping funny. His nephew Joffrey was standing over him from the other side of the pen, his dog The Hound right beside him. He got to his feet with the help of the dog next to him, blinking and grunting to clear the sleep from his eyes.
"Better looking bitches than what you're used to, uncle?" Joffrey asked. Tyrion noticed that Joffrey's voice had always come across as a bit annoying, especially at this time in the morning. Now that the Crown Prince title was his, Joffrey's ego only seemed to have had enlarged. It could be worse however, it could be both Noah and Joffrey and Tommen with full blown egos and bursting with pride from their Lannister heritage. Noah and Tommen were good kids, and the fact Noah had been sent to practically lick Tyrion's father's boots as his squire for two years must've done a small part in keeping Noah relatively humble in a less annoying aspect.
"My mother's been looking for you." Joffrey informed, looking distastefully at his uncle. "We ride for King's Landing today."
"Before you go you will call on Lord and Lady Stark and offer your sympathies." Tyrion said, as he made his way towards the gate of the pen.
"What good will my sympathies do to them?" Joffrey asked distastefully, as Tyrion pushed the gate open and made Joffrey move over to the side.
"None. But it is expected of you." Tyrion said, as Joffrey closed the gate. "Your absence has already been noted."
"The boy means nothing to me." Joffrey said, turning to look at his dog. "And I can't stand the wailing of women."
Before Joffrey could even react, Tyrion reached up and smacked Joffrey across the face sharply. To say Joffrey was surprised that his uncle hit him was an understatement as he clutched his cheek and made the sound that sounded just like a wail from a woman.
"One word and I'll hit you again." Tyrion warned.
"I'm telling mother-!" Joffrey said but was silenced with another slap to the other side of his face.
"Go!" Tyrion said, challenging his nephew. Joffrey watched him with shock as his hand slowly fell from his face. "Tell your mother. But first you will get to Lord and Lady Stark, and you will fall on your knees in front of them and tell them how very sorry you are. That you're at their service and all your prayers are with them. Do you understand?"
"You can't!" Joffrey began, and was once again silenced with a slap. He made another squeaking noise, when would this boy learn? He was sixteen and to be Crown Prince, but still acted like a full fledged child.
"Do you understand?" Tyrion asked again, as Joffrey looked up.
Joffrey stalked off back towards the castle, and the side of Tyrion's mouth twitched into a smile.
"The prince will remember that, little lord." The Hound pointed out, watching Joffrey head towards the castle.
"I hope so." Tyrion said, ignoring the comment on his height. "If he does, be a good dog and remind him."
Before The Hound could respond, Tyrion turned and headed towards the castle himself. He smelt the air, the smell of food was always evident in the air whenever King Robert was around.
"Ah!" Tyrion exclaimed. "Time for breakfast!"
Tyrion entered the room where his family was breaking their fast in minutes, passing by a guard who immediately straightened up once he saw Tyrion. The servant who was taking care of their meals looked up expectantly at Tyrion, who already knew what he wanted to eat to break his fast.
"Bread." he said, making the servant look at him as she walked by. "And two of those little fish. And a mug of dark beer to wash it down!"
Tyrion saw who was seated up at the table, heading towards a seat next to his youngest nephew Tommen.
"Oh and bacon, burnt black." Tyrion added, as he picked up Tommen and scooted him over a bit so that he could climb up and sit down next to him.
"Little brother." Jaime said.
"Beloved siblings." Tyrion said back, looking at his sister who looked anything but happy. Noah who was sitting to her left, smiled slightly as he took a bite of his rye bread. The spot next to Cersei was normally the spot that Robert would be seated at, but her normally ever joined them for breakfast. No one said otherwise to Noah who sat on the king's chair in black leather.
Tyrion grabbed the plate of bacon and placed it in front of him, giving Tommen a small smile as he took a bite.
"Is Bran going to die?" Myrcella said, speaking up as if she had been trying to say it for a period of time.
The five listeners at the table turned their attention to Tyrion, stopping their eating to hear what he had to say.
"Apparently not." Tyrion said, chewing his bacon.
Upon hearing the news, Myrcella and Tommen both smiled at their uncle. They both had taken a great liking to Bran. Noah took a sip of his black beer, looking at the three adults at the table.
"What do you mean?" Cersei asked.
"The maester says the boy may live." Tyrion repeated, taking a sip of the black beer they brought him.
His sister definitely did not look happy with the news that Tyrion brought, Jaime on his right hadn't touched his food since Tyrion had arrived.
"It's no mercy letting a child linger in such pain." Cersei said.
"Only the gods know for certain. All the rest of us can do is pray." Tyrion said, buttering his bread. "I'm sure you've given your condolences to Lord and Lady Stark, haven't you Noah?"
"Of course, uncle." Noah said, shifting in the king's chair. "The first I heard I went to Lord Stark."
"Charms of the North seem entirely lost on you." Tyrion said, noticing his sister's grumpy attitude as he reached for another slice of bacon.
"I still can't believe you're going." Cersei said, referring to Tyrion's decision to go to Castle Black with Jon Snow and Benjen Stark. "It's ridiculous. Even for you."
"Where's your sense of wonder?" Tyrion asked, astounded that his siblings seemed to have no want to see The Wall. "The greatest structure ever built. The intrepid men of the Night's Watch. The wintry abode of the White Walkers!"
"Tell me you're not thinking of taking the black." Jaime said, resting his arm on the table.
Noah stifled a laugh at the suggestion, masking it with another sip of his beer.
"And go celibate?" Tyrion asked, shocked that his brother would imply such a thing. "The whorse would be begging from Dorne to Casterly Rock. No I just want to stand on top of The Wall and piss off the edge of the world."
Tommen and Myrcella began laughing at what Tyrion said, and Tyrion saw Noah chuckle into his last bite of bread.
"Children don't need to hear your filth." Cersei said, watching Tyrion look at Tommen and chuckle. "Come." she beckoned to them like little ducklings.
Tommen and Myrcella rose to their feet to follow their mother, leaving Tyrion with his brother and his nephew to finish breaking their fast.
"Even if the boy lives, he'd be a cripple. Grotesque." Jaime pointed out. "Give me a good clean death anyday."
"Speaking for the grotesques, I'd have to disagree." Tyrion said. "Death is so final, where as life. Life is full of possibilities."
"Do they know what exactly he's broken?" Noah asked, finishing the last of his fish.
"Parts of his spine at the very least, who knows what damage it has done to him." Tyrion said. "And if the boy does wake, I'd be very interested to hear what he has to say."
"My dear brother," Jaime said, lowering his voice to a hushed whisper. "These are times you make me wonder whose side you're on."
"My dear brother, you wound me." Tyrion said. "You know how much I love my family."
Jon.
Jon stood silently as he waited for the blacksmith to finish a sword he had requested to be made before he left to join the Night's Watch. The blacksmith's face was red, from being around the intense heat from the fire and working on steel all day. The blacksmith was old and it took him longer to get the sword done than Jon expected. He almost thought it wouldn't be done in time.
"A sword for The Wall?"
Jon turned around to see who had asked the question. It was none other than the Kingslayer, Jaime Lannister in his gallant leathers. Jon had only seen and talked to him briefly, but he knew enough about him to know what type of man Jaime Lannister was, and it wasn't someone he liked to associate himself with.
"I already have one." Jon said, looking at his sword that was strapped to his belt.
"Good man." Jaime responded. "Have you swung it yet?"
"Of course I have." Jon said, trying to keep the confused expression off of his face.
"At someone, I mean." Jaime corrected himself, already seeming to very well know the answer.
"And your beloved nephews have?" Jon asked. "The boy who wishes to follow in the same footsteps as you?"
"Boy? Last time I checked, he was the same age as you. I didn't think that sort of thing changed." Jaime said. "And you'd be surprised what a squire of Tywin Lannister is required to do. Many people wish to see my father dead, and sometimes all there is is his young squire to protect him when he's unarmed. It's a strange thing, the first time you cut a man. You realize that we're nothing but sacs of meat and blood and some bone to keep it all standing."
"Let me thank you ahead of time," Jaime held out a hand to Jon, and Jon's eyes flashed down at it as if it were a sword about to cut him. He reached his hand out to shake Jaime's hand. "for guarding us all from the perils beyond The Wall, wildings and White Walkers and what not."
Jon tried to pull his hand away, but Jaime pulled it back and brought him in closer. Jon gulped as Jaime squeezed his hand with extreme force to prevent him from fleeing.
"We're grateful to have good, strong men like you protecting us." Jaime said, releasing Jon's hand to walk back to the castle.
Jaime was two steps ahead when Jon blurted out, "We've guarded the kingdoms for 8,000 years."
Jaime stopped and turned back around, a small smirk playing on his face. "Is it 'we' already?" he asked. "Have you taken your vows then?"
It was another question that Jaime Lannister already knew the answer to.
"Soon enough." Jon responded.
"Give my regards to the Night's Watch." Jaime said. "I'm sure it will be thrilling to serve in such an elite force. And if not? It's only for life."
With that, Jaime turned around and walked pompously back to the castle to prepare for traveling back to King's Landing, leaving Jon standing to watch him as the blacksmith readied the sword. He turned back around to the blacksmith, who looked up at him with a sunken face. No words were exchanged between the two, but the blacksmith gave him an expression that told him all that he needed to know.
Arya was packing for the journey to King's Landing when Jon entered her room. She had a less than enthusiastic look on her face, and automatically informed Jon on why she was still up in her room packing.
"Septa Mordane says I have to do it again." Arya said, rolling her eyes. "My things aren't properly folded, she says. Who cares how they're folded?! They're going to get all messed up anyway."
"It's good you've got help." Jon said, nodding to Arya's wolf.
Arya smiled and straightened up, "Watch." she told Jon. Jon did as he was told, watching for Arya's demonstration.
"Nymeria." Arya commanded. "Gloves."
Her direwolf sat there, unaware of what to do. Jon tried to hide back a chuckle as Arya repeated the command. Jon frowned as the wolf whimpered.
"Impressive." he commented.
"Shut up." she responded. "Nymeria. Gloves."
The wolf sat there again, still not moving from her spot on the ground.
"I have something for you." Jon said, trying to turn Arya's attention from the wolf. "And it has to be packed very carefully."
"A present?" Arya smiled.
"Close the door." Jon commanded.
As Arya went to close the door of her room, Jon set the cloth down on his bed and unwrapped it. Taking the small sword out from the wrappings and balanced it on his fingers before turning around to Arya. She smiled upon realizing what it was, reaching out to take it from her half brother.
"This is no toy." Jon informed her, unsheathing it from its scabbard. "Be careful you don't cut yourself."
"It's so skinny." Arya commented.
"So are you." Jon responded. "I had the blacksmith make it for you special. It won't hack a man's head off, but it can poke him full of holes if you're quick enough."
"I can be quick." Arya assured him.
"You'll have to work at it every day." Jon said.
"How does it feel? Do you like the balance?"
"I think so." Arya said.
"First lesson, stick them with the pointy end." Jon said.
"I know which end to use." Arya said, almost rolling her eyes. "Maybe I'll be better than King Robert's oldest son by the time I see you again."
"Maybe." Jon said. "I'm going to miss you."
Arya went to hug her brother, but forgot to put down her new sword. Jon backed away before she could cut him, "Careful." he warned.
Arya carefully set down her new sword before jumping into Jon's arms to hug him. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, feeling very sad that they would part in a few hours.
"All the best swords have names, you know." Jon said.
"Sansa can keep her sewing needles. I've got a needle of my own." Arya said.
Saying goodbye to his brother Bran was extremely hard, especially because Bran lay asleep and badly injured. Bran's mother had been cold to him, making Jon's presence clearly unwanted. He stayed longer and said goodbye anyway, only leaving when his father appeared in the doorway to Bran's bedroom.
The saddle of Jon's horse was heavy on his arm and he had to hike it up his shoulder twice as he made his way towards his horse.
"You've said goodbye to Bran?" Robb asked, coming to walk next to Jon.
Jon nodded slightly, more focused on getting his horse saddled than talking to his half brother.
"He's not going to die. I know it." Robb added.
"You Starks are hard to kill." Jon grunted.
"My mother?" Robb inquired.
"She was very kind." Jon half lied as he threw the horse saddle onto the horse.
"Good." Robb said. "Next time I see you, you'll be all in black."
"It was always my color." Jon said lightly.
"Farewell, Snow." Robb said.
"And you, Stark." Jon said.
They looked at each other briefly before pulling each other in for a tight hug. They didn't know when exactly they would be seeing each other again, if they would at all. Robb would be staying behind to be substitute Lord of Winterfell in his father's absence, and Jon off to The Wall. Although their mother's had been different, Jon and Robb were both still brothers. They shared the same father, growing up together and playing in the courtyard. They learned how to use a sword together, and got along well since they were so close in age. Only months apart. Robb was the first to pull away from the hug, and he swallowed hardly. He turned on his heel and left Jon to finish saddling his horse.
It was the last time Jon ever saw Robb again.
The group of people left mid-morning, heading to the Kingsroad that led back to the capital. Jon's horse followed in step behind bannermen of House Baratheon, examining the lands of Winterfell for the last time. He wouldn't be returning anytime soon, and was trying to enjoy the cool temperature while he still could. Up ahead, men started breaking off from the group to turn right towards the road that led to The Wall.
Jon's father had stopped at the split in the road, sitting on his white horse. He would be taking a left with the king and the group that marched for King's Landing to leave behind Winterfell as well.
Jon saw the only Baratheon prince riding on a horse break off from the group and trot ahead. The horse shook its head as it caught up to King Robert at the front of the men who were going back to King's Landing.
Jon stopped his horse next to his father, knowing this would also be the last time that he saw his father for a long time as well.
"There's great honor serving in the Night's Watch." Ned informed him. To Jon's father, everything was about honor with him. Jon looked ahead to his Uncle Benjen, who turned on his horse to look back at them.
"The Starks have manned The Wall for thousands of years." Ned said. "And you are a Stark. You may not have my name, but you have my blood."
"Is my mother alive?" Jon asked, a question he had asked Ned for years. "Does she know about me? Where I am? Where I'm going? Does she care?"
His father looked at him, "The next time we see each other, we'll talk about your mother. I promise."
Jon nodded, watching as his father kicked his horse to catch up with the party heading towards King's Landing. Jon stayed where he was on his horse, watching his father gallop ahead and disappear over the top of the small hill. He sighed and turned his horse towards where his Uncle Benjen was riding with the others towards the road that led to The Wall, making the distance between he and his father greater than ever before.