King and Hand
When the royal procession came into Winterfell, the Starks stood in their best finery. All in a line, with the other members of their house behind them. An honour guard to the one side on horseback, foot shoulders and peasants on the other. The King entered the courtyard and all fell to one knee.
Herian watched from the roof of the stables behind the Starks, partly cloaked in a spell of chameleon, partly because she wished her Thane to know where she was. The smile she had gained when he spotted her perch made it worth it; and as long as she didn't move to much chances were low that anyone else would spot her.
Unfortunately she did not like this King almost instantly, he did not possess the baring of someone how took his throne seriously. The Queen, she was confident she would grow to loath. The Dark elf resisted the urge to wave her hand over her nose when she caught a whiff of the Queens children. A bunch of inbred bastards, "More lovely news for my Thane." she thought bitterly. For the last two weeks she had devoted her time to Jon, for she was going to ask him tonight while everyone was at the feast if he wanted to be her apprentice. The other effect of that was that she had been giving her Thane space and time to work through the information she had given him. Herian tapped her fingers against the stone and listened to the King and his Queen, make their introductions.
"Take me to your crypt, I want to pay my respects." The King said.
"We've been riding for a month my love, surely the dead can wait." The Queen said.
"Ned." The King said sharply, Ned bowed to the Queen and rushed off to guide his King.
'I'm glad he is not my King.' Thought Herian and silently jumped down from her perch to follow her Thane.
Through the halls and the courtyards of the colossal fortress, a silent, elf shaped silhouette silently followed both the Stark and the King. She remained but a few feet behind the pair. Pressed up against walls, hidden from the light of the sun. Herian followed without a sound, like a shadow, there and yet not, at the same time.
Soon enough, both parties and their silent pursuer entered into the Crypt. The colossal mausoleum of stone. It smelt of death, a familiar scent for the elf, she wrinkled her nose at the stench.
Upon entering the tomb, still hidden from her Thane and the King, Herian allowed her concealment magics to fade slightly more and moved through the shadows, staying just within ear shot.
"Tell me about Jon Arryn." Ned said.
"One minute he was fine," Robert signed. "And then. Burned right threw him whatever it was. I loved that man."
As the King spoke, the Stark spared the man a small glance. As he looked though, Eddard saw something. Just out of the corner of his eye, a shadow within the darkness of the Crypt. It was there, and yet not. A black shape, so familiar.
His gaze held, for just a moment, before he returned to the King.
"We both did." Ned said grimly.
"He never had to teach you much, but me. You remember me at sixteen?" Both men chuckled. "All I wanted to do was crack skulls and fuck girls. He showed me what was what."
"Aye." Ned said and looked over to his king.
"Don't look at me like that, it's not his fault I didn't listen."
Both men shared another chuckle, they stopped and turned to each other. Herian ducked into an alcove, and let Ned catch a corner of her grey cloak with his eye.
The King sighed. "I need you Ned, down at Kings Landing not up here where you are no damned use to anybody."
Herian watched as the joy fell from her Thane's face and fought the need to growl.
"Lord Eddard Stark, I would name you the Hand of the King." Robert said solemnly.
Ned got down on a knee and said. "I am not worthy of the honour."
"I'm not trying to honour you, I'm trying to get you to run my Kingdom while I eat, drink and whore my way to an early grave." The last few words were said with mirth.
'Defiantly don't like that man.' Herian thought. 'What a selfish bastard.'
"Damn it, Ned stand up." The King slapped Ned on the shoulder, Ned stood. "You helped me win the Iron Throne now help me keep the damn thing. We were meant to rule together."
Herian watched the emotions fly over Neds features, he rarely was this open. Denial was the strong of them as he looked often at the ground and had his mouth open to speak but never said anything.
"If your sister had lived," the King resumed. "we be bound by blood. Well its not to late, I have a son, you have a daughter, we'll join our houses."
The King turned and walked back the way they had come past Ned who still hadn't said a word. Herian pressed herself into the shadows as the King past, by the Seventeen she wanted to do something but was at a loss at to what.
Ned turned and followed his King, Herian allowed him to see her and gave a nod of her head.
They moved through the crypts till the King stopped at Lynnas's grave and pulled a perfect feather from his pocket.
Herian hid in another alcove.
Robert placed the feather in the status outstretched hand, grief plainly written on his face.
"Did you have to bury her in a place like this? She should be on a hill somewhere, with the sun and the clouds above her." Robert said his voice thick.
"She was my sister," Ned said softly. "this is where she belongs."
"She belonged with me." Robert gently touched the statues cheek. "In my dreams I kill him every night."
"It's done your grace, the Targaryens are gone."
"Not all of them." The King growled out.
Ned had nothing to say to that.
Herian followed her Thane for the rest of the day, till he had to go into the Keep for the feast. From the shadows, a soft touch briefly passed over the man's arm, just briefly and yet just real enough for him to feel it. Ned turned where he stood and scanned all that was around him. There were people, the sound of the feast just a few rooms over.
But, other than that? There was nothing but a slight breeze through the castle halls.
Outside, a silent figure slipped across the courtyard and away from the loud party in the distance. She'd much rather be around things more, her type. So, it didn't take long to find the training yard. And Jon, beating up a grass dummy with very poor form.
If one to describe it, it was more like the boy was just flailing around a sword. Swinging back and forth as the blade struck the dummy from one side then the next. The shard of metal struck vital spots and non-vital ones, ones that could easily be taken advantage of in the hands of another fighter.
Upon striking the dummy upon the head with a downward swipe, Jon sighed.
'Well, at least this is easier than dealing with someone living.' He mused, 'Or worse-'
"Beating up the dummy will get you nowhere Jon."
Like the sudden shattering of glass, Jon shot upward and turned on the spot. The boy's arms shot upward in a snap and gripped his weapon tightly. Startled, the youth turned on the spot and glanced around with a worried gaze. Yet what was in front of him?
It made Jon groan.
'-her.'
Herian stepped from the shadow and pulled her hood down, though her face was still hidden by the helm. She drew her thin Daedric scimitar and side stepped around till he had to turn to face her. "Come then, I have a pretty good idea why you are angry. Feel free to take it out on me and not the dummy."
'You make it sound as if either are preferable.' the boy mumbled.
Jon stepped any from the dummy and held his sword in the proper stance, she had beaten the crap out of him enough the last almost two months to know when she was being serous. For she had never drawn her own blade before. He swallowed thickly as he gazed at the harsh black mental. The length of the blade was thin and the edge sharp, it had a long red vein that glowed in the dark, the curve of the blade as very slight and only started about mid-way through it.
"Fight Jon, I did not draw it for you to stare." She crouched low and Jon saw the horse stance she had been drilling into him. It made her appear to coil like a snake getting ready to strike.
He sank into his stance and raised his blade up to the side of his head. The black haired boy had a feeling this was not going to be like their usual bots.
The dark elf lunged forward with a snarl, cleaving clearly for his side. Jon caught the black blade on his simple steel, the noise was horrible. The steel screamed as the black bit into it, Jon could see a large chip carved out of the blade. Unfortunately while he was looking that the blade, Herians' free hand shot out palm flat.
'Shit!'
Before his mouth could even react to the yelp, the elf's hand slammed into the boy's chest with a crushing blow. It was as if a horse had kicked him across the chest, without a sliver of armor either.
Jon was sent flying away from her, sprawling several feet until his body slammed into the cold hard ground. He felt a rib crack, he lay dazed on the ground, didn't even attempt to get up.
Instead, he simply groaned, 'Why must everything hurt so?'
Herian sheathed her blade, walked over to the boy, knelt and touched his chest with her finger tips. Blue sparks flew from her hand into his body and very suddenly his chest no longer hurt.
"Wha?" Jon sat up and touched his chest tentatively.
"Magic, I can transform into a werewolf it surely isn't that shocking." Herian said.
She did have a point their and being younger than his father his mind had a much easier time of wrapping around the concept.
Herian pulled Jon to his feet. "I have an offer for you."
"What?" Jon asked.
"Would you like to apprentice under me? I have already asked your father and he has agreed to it if you do." The elf said smoothly, another smirk much like a teasing fox.
Eyes wide, the boy blinked. Once, twice, and then a third time.
"Excuse me?"
Amused by the boy's bewildered expression, Herian crossed her arms and shot him another smirk, "Did your ears suffer quite the blow as well? Its as I said, I wish to take you as an apprentice, to learn quite more than you would against these dummies."
In the distance, the sound of wind blew through the training yard with a sharp hiss. It burned against Jon's ears, sharply reminding him that he was awake and not unconscious. When training with Herian, it was hard to tell the difference sometimes.
Either way, the boy could not believe his ears, "You, want me, to be your apprentice?" Truly, that sounded like something a dream would cook up, not reality.
"I did just ask did I not?" Herian let her small be heard. "As you may of guessed I have both a broad and very specific skill set. The organization I belong to is very picky when it comes to recruiting and you fit many of the qualifications. You would come with me wherever I go, while I will not be able to have you near at hand when I am acting as a bodyguard for your father. But when I don't have to worry about someone poisoning, stabbing him in the back and so on. I will be teaching you, you like the rest of your family has some magic, we will go to lengths to awaken it. You will learn how to spy, fight, alchemy and be versed with many a type of monsters. I am a Ranger, back home we are heros' for hire, we fix the little problems so the higher powers don't get burned out. Here, I have strived to fore-fill much the same role. As a Ranger you will help those in need, though it is generally for something like monster slaying, retrieval of items guarded by monsters, or curse breaking. So there is not need to fetch cats out of trees, there is the guard for that." she chuckled.
Jon had no words.
The young member of house Stark felt his jaw drop like a brick, like a large chunk of armour that had been loosened after a long battle. If it weren't for the muscle and flesh around his face, it would have been lying on the ground.
Course, that did not stop him from gaping like a newly caught fish.
Which only proved to make the look on Herian's face all the more smug, or amused. Jon couldn't tell. He had gotten awful used to the expression after all of their sparing matches, most of which ended with him on the ground.
Though, perhaps that could change if he became her apprentice? Maybe?
The whole magic thing was a bit hard to comprehend though, Jon half admitted that he was still feeling as if the blow to the head was the cause of that.
"Well," he gulped, "That all does sound rather temping."
"Though, do you really believe I would be truly capable of, all of that? Jon mused, still wheeling from it all, "It seems a bit far fetched to believe I could do some of the things you're implying."
"I do, not all Rangers are werewolves, most are quite normal. You are bright, you learn swiftly and you care, as I said we Rangers are very picky with our students." Herian smiled, "Though you will have to read a lot more then you are used too." She reached out and closed his jaw. "Someday if you really really want, you might even be able to convince me to share my lycanthropywith you. Then you might be able to beat me one day."
"S-share?" Jon stammered, "You mean others can become, like you?"
The young Stark remembered how she had described her kind as 'children' of something or other. Which naturally, would mean that there were others. More gigantic wolfen beasts that could tear a horse apart like it was nothing.
Jon shivered at the thought, especially at the idea of becoming something like that.
It was horrifying, and slightly temping at the same time-
"Wait," he muttered, "You believe that I'll only be able to defeat you if I become a being like yourself?"
Even for his common treatment by his family, his 'mother' especially, Jon could say that was rather rude, least in his opinion. Though giving his track record against her, it wasn't too hard to believe-
"Wait, do not answer that." he grumbled, "I've been dealt too many wounds already. Whats left of my pride cannot take another crack to its hide."
"You humans confound me." She sat beside the boy and pulled off her helm. "There is no shame in losing, no shame in being a product of love. My Empire had to once put one such as yourself on the throne because all others of his blood had been murdered. No one was stupid enough to think any less of him because of who his mother was or was not. I say that it would take becoming one of my kind or something along those lines to beat me, because I am not human. I am strong and faster then any human could ever be. But believe me when I say, I have had my ass handed to me every more often then I hand you yours. No you do not have to become as I am, you can stay as you are forever. And I would not turn you now anyway, yes it would be good for your training. But magic, what I am, it is all too knew to you. Plus I don't think your father would forgive me. There are Rangers that are wizards, sorceresses, werewolves and vampires, we even have a few that have chosen to become witchers. But there are lots that are just like you. They trained long and hard, but they did not look to Daedra, magic, or mutation to give them at edge in battle. And they do just as well as the rest of us." She sighed. "What makes a Ranger a Ranger, is their willingness to help others, to slay the goblins terrorizing a farm stead. To dive into that cave to find a long lost wedding ring. More often then not, rewards will be merger, coin, food and item. But frankly, its the doing of the action that is the reward, my homeland is full of ills great and small that threaten the people." she laughed. "I knew this one Ranger that had to find a way to get ride of the Staff of the Everscamp." The red head glanced over at the boy and coughed. "A story for another time." After a thought. "And kid I'm twelve years your elder, it would hurt my pride to loss to you."
For the last minute or two, Jon had said nothing. Not a word. Instead, all that time remained focused on listening, to every word and comment the Elf had said.
So many unfamiliar words, description, names. There was so much that it almost reminded Jon of the stories he had been told back when he was younger. Grand tales of far off places, with creatures, monsters, legends that went far and wide.
He knew now that most were but stories, but listening to Herian made the all feel just a bit more real, possible if it were. Like the monsters that madman had claimed were beyond the wall, and even more creatures than that. As he noticed her glance, the young boy let out a small huff and sighed, "Alright, you do have a point there."
If he were in her boots, then he couldn't complain. Still, getting his rear end kicked so often didn't help with the matter, especially when it seemed so easy for her.
Herian watched him. "Pride is a fickle thing, I've learned to pay it no heed long ago. I've been a Ranger for three provinces, each treated me different then the last. I was in the Summerset Ilse when I found myself here, I still wonder if it was some joke by Altmeri wizards to send me here. Or if my Grandmother decided it was time for me to leave my homeland. I can't promise that there will be songs sung about you, or that you will win every fight. But it is a good life." She snapped her fingers and created a small candle flame. "Nor can I promise that you will be good with magic, I can hide myself pretty well, heal myself and others to a limited degree. Beyond that I stink, for magic even like this." She made the flame slightly bigger. "I cheat and use Witcher signs, they are so much easier then my homelands magic." she laughed. "As Rangers go, I'm the blunt instrument, it ain't pretty but I get the job done." The elf paused. "Though that could be because I picked up my homelands magic pretty late, I was first trained as a Witcher. My aunt Ghani came by when I was four with my cousin Irlan, we had such fun together that I chose to study to be a Witcher. When I turned eighteen I returned to my homeland to follow my Path there. It lead me to becoming a Ranger, as much as I love getting payed for my work. Killing Drowers does get old very fast." she shrugged, "I never underwent Witcher mutations because I already had shown signs of lycanthropy, and none wanted to see what would happen if you mixed lycan blood and witcher mutations. That is assuming I lived at all."
Jon blinked, "That seems, like quite the trial." Oddly, whilst hearing her story, the young Stark couldn't help but compare the elf's situation to the men who chose to abandon their lives and joined the Watch. The men who guarded the Wall of the North, and men who lived for the Watch and died for it.
Of course, Jon knew not of what the Watch really was. All he had to go on was the stories, told to him whilst at Winterfell. The tales were wide and varied, confusing and inspiring all at the same time.
The creatures, the people beyond the walls. The tales of such creatures almost sounded as if they could exist in a similar manner as the creatures Herian spoke of. Of course, beyond the wall was only stories.
While Herian's tales sounded far too true, to not be true. Never the less, Jon kept his gob quiet and listened as Herian continued her tale.
The dark elf shrugged. "I guess I'm just trying to say that you don't need to change who are what you are to be a Ranger." the red head chuckled. "I'd be cross if you changed who you are." she stood up and offered him her hand. "Think it over, I will probably be heading south soon so you don't have unlimited time. I'm going hunting tomorrow, and I could use a hand if you're interested."
Jon blinked, "Sure."
Extending his own hand, Jon took the elf's gesture. With a yank, Herian pulled the young lad back onto his feet, boots planted on the ground once more.
"Then I look forward to tomorrow then," she smiled, "Perhaps we'll be able to catch something that would make all in this castle red with envy. Just imagine the sight."
Whilst Jon dusted the dirt off himself, he paused and mused over the sight.
The two of them returning after a successful hunt, their prey draped over their backs. The guards looking on with envy, his father smiling proudly at the sight, and even Lady Stark being unable to deny the success of their venture.
As brief as it was, Jon couldn't keep the smile from his face, "That sounds great!"
Herian glanced at the lad's face and gave her own smile. It was nice to see the young boy actually happy for once. He was always so strict in the castle, whether it was around his family or by himself. Almost made her think that frown was plastered to his face or something.
"Wonderful, then it is a date then." she noted, "But that said, I believe that it is time for me to make myself scarce. Might as well check on that feast; make sure no one makes a grand fool of themselves."
Jon snorted, still in high spirits, "Far too late for that."
With the Lannisters around, fools were aplenty, even Jon knew that. In fact, if the elf wished to keep someone from making an ass out of themselves, keeping the booze out of the hands of his family would be her best bet. Though, this was a feast.
There would be no shortage of that to be certain.
The ranger shrugged, "Perhaps, but it does not hurt to try."
Her intention made, Jon realized there would be no convincing the Ranger. Accepting that, the young boy bid the elf goodbye and turned his gaze back to the dummy he had been failing at previously. Herian departed and disappeared back into the shadows, a small silhouette slithering back toward the castle in silence.
The light of the moon shined down on the boy as he stood out in the cold, wispy wind of the night. A breeze echoed through the courtyard as it brushed against his face. Jon glanced up at the sky and let out a sigh, the moon was full and bright as it shined down upon Winterfell.
'At least, I know you won't be going anywhere.' he mused.
Along with the wind, an echo of silence poured into the massive courtyard. Guards patrolled the walls of Winterfell with touches burning against the moonlight. Two guards stood at the gate of the massive castle, standing watch whilst the castle's occupants partied inside.
Inside the cold, stone walls of Winterfell, shouts and cheers echoed through the thick walls, as if they were mere parchment. Yet as the cheers of the feast drifted into the distance, another sound met it. Along a stone pathway toward the gate of the complex, an echoing sound drew closer. Many of the guards turned their heads to the noise, weapons at the ready. A galloping noise drew closer and closer with every second, with metal horse shoes roaming over the stones as the guards looked on.
Several black figures road through the massive gates of Winterfell, with Jon oblivious to each. The young lad continued to stare up at the sky, his mind enraptured with thoughts of Herian and what she had spoken of. The sword in his hand grew loose, almost slipping out of his grip as his mind wondered on.
The dummy in front of the lad was but a forgotten memory. The lump of carved wood had lost its sentience after its creature had departed. All that was left was the training stump that it was, still covered in nicks and dents from Jon's aggravated assault.
Still, as occupied as the boy was, he failed to notice a larger figure as it walked up behind him.
"My, you gave that thing quite the bludgeoning," a voice mused, "I guess a swift death was too much to ask for then, my boy?"
The voice snapped Jon out of his mental ramblings and turned around. His eyes wide, the young boy almost mistook what he saw as another fit of Herian's magic. After what he had seen that night, it was hard to imagine she wasn't capable of such things.
Yet as he looked upon the smiling face, Jon's somber face broke out into a large grin.
"Uncle Benjen!"
Standing just behind the young lad was a taller, much older gentlemen. He stood in Stark attire, a cloak with a fur collar around his shoulders and a leather blackened vest around his chest. The man's face was covered in a large, thick beard, as if he had been out in the North much longer than necessary.
Yet despite his rough appearance, Benjen Stark grinned at the boy in front of him all the same.
"Jon," Hen smiled and wrapped the boy up in a large, warm hug, "You got bigger. I rode all day. Didn't want to leave you alone with the Lannisters."
His arms tied around his uncle's shoulders, Jon let out a light chuckle. That was a one of the worst fates anyone could imagine for a Stark. The Lannisters were a vile bunch, even if one of them was the king's wife.
For a moment or two, the two men hugged. It had been ages since the two had last seen each other. Just seeing his uncle made Jon almost giddy with glee, even if he didn't show it.
As the hug finally ended, Benjen patted the boy on the shoulder and shot him a grin, "Its good to see ya lad. Though, why are you out here in the cold? Why not at the feast?"
Happy as he was, the mention of the goings on inside made Jon's grin shrink, if just a bit.
"Lady Stark thought it might insult the royal family to seat a bastard in their midst." He sighed, regrettable. The conversation with Herian had helped Jon forget about that matter, if just a bit.
Too bad his uncle hadn't been aware of this.
"Well, you're always welcome on the wall." Benjen swiftly reassured the lad, "No bastard was ever refused a seat there."
Just like that, Jon's thoughts swiftly returned to the wall. The colossal icy wall that stood to the North, a place for a new start, another life where his name and family would not matter. He remembered much talk of the place, and he recalled Herian's words on it. Talk of being her apprentice.
"Perhaps," Jon muttered, "I would appreciate that."
"But, what of you uncle? How goes it? We have not heard of you in quite some time. Indeed, I bet my father will be surprised to hear that you rode all the way here just for a feast."
Benjen laughed, "Oh, I'm sure! I have words for your father, but I also sought to rescue him from the guests inside. If I wait too long, I'd imagine Ice would get some workout this night."
"That would be grave, there is already enough red in there with the wine as it is."
A laugh echoed into the night, shared by the two men. Neither even held the thought of such a man drawing his sword that night, regardless of company. Then again, there were the Lannisters, and quite a large sum of liquor inside the walls of Winterfall. Combine those of the North and enough booze, and things could end rather red regardless.
"Ah, fair enough." Benjen noted, "Then come, let us go inside, save your father from his guests, and actually have ourselves a time. Lord knows how long we'll be able to keep to it."
Seeing his uncle's point, Jon relented and sheathed his sword. Despite his grievances, the two men of the House made their way inside, leaving the cold wind blowing outside.
Inside the colossal structure, the banquet raged on as one would imagine on the outside. Many people, swarms of nobles, men and women were about. Talking and laughing with each other, having the time of their lives. Both Benjen and Jon saw many familiar faces, of Stark and Lannister. There was food and drink all about, as were a merriment that made Jon frowned.
Near the corner of the room, the young lad spotted Lady Stark, talking amongst others he did not recognize. Her words, the cold tone she had spoken with ringed in the lad's ears, almost to the point where it felt like a blade being driven between his eyes.
As best he could, Jon shook off the feelings and turned to his uncle. Whilst he couldn't find his brother as quickly as he had hoped, the man of the wall spent his time with his nephew. They drank and traded stories on both ends. The youth spoke of the Direwolves his family had recently taken into their home and a new arrival in house Stark. He spoke not of the fantastic, mythical powers she processed but of the skill she had with a sword and dagger.
Benjen was impressed. Perhaps later if given the chance, the Stark would seek out this new arrival that his brother had found in the wilds. Would be interesting either way.
Whilst the party raged on, the two Starks eventually moved on from the loud noises and took to one of the towers. They held drinks in their hands and gazed up at the stars outside. The vast sky looked like a blackened sheet with small specks of light shining through the cracks.
Both men sighed at the sight, it was so peaceful. Quite the contrast to the echoing, raging party that was going on down below. The sounds of the feast could be heard even then, through the stone that made up the walls, floor, and ceiling above their head.
"Somehow, I am already missing the cold peace of the Wall." Benjen noted with a chuckle, "The wind is much less noisy then the drunken screeching down below."
Jon chuckled, "I can imagine."
Raising his glass, Benjen gazed out the tower peak and looked up at the stars above, "Though, the sky is much more beautiful here, I'll admit. No clouds constantly getting in the way. Rather, quaint actually."
"The Wall is but a fortress, a standing brace against all that is beyond it. There is little room for comfort, or family there." He mused, "I suppose some prefer it due to that, but having witnessed this?"
He chuckled, "It's going to be hard to go back."
"You'll find a way," Jon told him, "You wouldn't be wearing that if you hadn't the guts. Hell, I may be joining you one day, if my nerves permit me."
Taking a drink, Benjen spared a small glance at the boy beside him, "You sure about that lad?"
"You do not know what you'll be giving up. As I said, there are no families at the Wall, we cannot have children, there is but two things there. The Watch and the Wall."
"Do you think you are prepared for that?"
In the silence that was the old tower, Jon lowered his glass and thought to himself. He had asked that question himself before, with an elf standing before him. Back then he was unsure, and now? He was still unsure. Everything about the wall brought a sense of uncertainty.
Oddly, it wasn't as bone chilling as it once been.
As he though, Jon felt his uncle pat him on the shoulder with a large, thick glove, "Ah, don't worry about it lad. There is still time, and as I said, you are always welcome. The Wall does not turn away someone, especially if they have the nerve to approach it in the first place."
"But," he told the lad, "Just, don't rush, you hear? The wall hasn't gone anywhere in the last hundred years, and won't be going anywhere anytime soon."
Jon nodded.
If his uncle had brought such an offer to him just a day or so ago, he might have accepted it without a second though. The lad would have thrown everything to the wayside, just for a spot on the wall, damned the consequences.
Still, that was a day ago.
His thoughts shifting to an earlier conversation, Jon bit back a chuckle and swallowed a bit of brew, "You make it sound so tempting uncle, as if a piece of meat dangling in front of my face."
"Still, soon perhaps, soon."
"That's all I ask," Benjen chuckled, giving the boy a pat across the back, "That, and a bit of hunting before I take my leave. I do miss the green trees and hills out here, far less snow than there is at Castle Black."
Jon smirked, "I would like that too uncle. Though I warn you, there might be more creatures in those words than you might remember, that's for sure."
The wolves, deer, and elks were one thing, but when there was some sort of monstrous deer abomination lurking around, one with enough strength to kill a Direwolf mother and a wolfen Ranger? That could be something even the Night's Watch may need to watch out for.
Jon chuckled. That was a horrible joke.
Unbeknownst to the boy's poke at his profession, Benjen took a deep drink from from his cup and pushed himself away from the wall, "Fair enough. Hell, maybe you'll be the one to teach me something new."
"Oh, you put far too much faith in me uncle."
The Stark shrugged, "Say what you will. Me though? I think I shall call it a night."
"Oh, must you?" Jon asked, "But the night is still young?"
Noting the boy's frown, Benjen let out a small shrug and rolled his shoulders, "Sorry lad, but this may be the first time in a long while I may be able to get some rest on my terms. That and I still gotta find ya old man. He has to be around here somewhere."
Jon rolled his eyes, "True, and we haven't heard any screaming, so he hasn't snapped yet."
"Ah, true enough." Ben nodded, "Still, I think I'll be off to the night lad."
Taking a step back from the window, both men of House Stark turned to each other. With strong arms, the two embraced each other once again. Jon wrapped his arms around his uncle, and Ben did the same.
"Just don't be a stranger Uncle, and don't let me catch you sneaking off without a goodbye."
The man of the Watch let out a laugh, "Ha! As if I can be that sneaky."
After a minute or two of their hug, the two separated once more. Ben held his brother's son and shoulders length and offered him a stern, yet comforting smile, "I won't be going anywhere laddy. Least not without word."
"That's all I ask."
Under the light of the moon, Ben offered his young relative a warm goodbye and took his leave. Down the stairs back into the major halls of Winterfell, with a slight stumble in his step. Jon watched as his uncle departed a small smile on his face.
The black coated figure soon vanished back into the cold, stony walls of the massive fortress, gone back into the loud noises that echoed below. Whilst he did, Jon shook his head and turned his gaze back out the window. He turned his eyes upward and stared into the night's sky.
"So that is your Uncle? Can't say I expected that from the Night's Watch.
Jon lowered his head.
Off to the side of the hall he stood in, a new figure stepped forward. A drink in his hand, a short man, disproportionally so, stepped out from the shadows and walked up to the young man. Clothed in a vest, regal pants, and a rather self-respectful nature about him, the short individual took a few steps forward and had a long sip of his mug.
The young Stark took a step back, surprised by the sudden arrival.
"What're you doing back there?"
Now standing across from the lad, the shorter of the two men waved his drink back and forth, "Preparing for a night with your family. I've always wanted to see the Wall."
Despite his appearance, the strange man spoke with a certain tone in his voice. Almost despite his outward appearance, he held a sort of self-respect toward himself. Every word that left his mouth was drenched in a certain tone, one Jon swiftly recognized.
"You're Tyrion Lannister. The queen's brother?" he asked, slightly hesitant.
Tyrion smirked and raised his mug, "My greatest accomplishment."
After a long, deep swig of the drink, the Lannister let loose a long, satisfied sigh. Jon could imagine that it was one hell of a drink, from that reaction at least.
Once his sigh had finished, Tyrion sent the youth a curious look, "You-you're Ned Stark's bastard, aren't you?"
A simple question, yet Jon flinched at it all the same. He took a step back and looked away. His eyes glanced at the closest bit of stone he could, gaze filled with shame and a touch of resentment.
Something that did not go unnoticed.
Tyrion frowned, "Did I offend you? Sorry. You are the bastard, though."
"Lord Eddard Stark is my father." Jon sharply replied.
"And Lady Stark is not your mother." the dwarf countered, "Making you the bastard. Let me give you some advice, bastard. Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armour. Then it can never be used to hurt you."
Amidst the halls of Winterfell, Jon gritted his teeth tighter and tighter. Regardless of Tryion knowing or not, each word the Lannister spoke sent a jolt of anger through the young Stark. Whatever relief the party had given the boy soon melted away, leaving a hot boiling pot of anger for him to simmer on. It continued to build and build until Jon could not take it anymore.
"What the hell do you know about being a bastard?" he snapped, roaring with teeth bared.
The young lad's voice echoed through the hall, a shout of defiance, of anger, of shame at what he was. He unleashed all he had in one, single burning moment, directed at the shorter man that shared the air with him.
Yet after the boy's enraged shout, Tyrion did not snap back or look angry at the boy's words.
He simply stared and with one shrug of his shoulders, raised his drink back to his lips.
"All dwarves are bastards in their fathers' eyes."
Lady and Lord Stark lay awake in their bed, Cat was cuddled up to her husband as they talked of the day.
"I'm a northman." Ned said solemnly, as he stroked Cats arm, her head on his chest. "I belong here with you not down south in that rats nest they call a capital."
"I won't let him take you." Cat said.
Ned scoffed. "The King takes what he wants. That is why he is King."
Cat sat up and turned to him. "I'll say, listen here fat man, you are not taking my husband anywhere" She pointed at him to emphasis her words and Ned chuckled. "He belongs to me own."
Ned smiled at his wife and she snuggled back down. "How did he get so fat?"
"He only stops eating when it's time for a drink." They both chuckled.
A soft knock filled the room and a voice said. "It's Maester Luwin, my lord."
"Send him in." The Lord spoke neutrally.
The bald Maester Luwin came in wearing his grey robs. "Pardon, my lord, my lady. A rider in the night from your sister."
Cat swiftly felt the bed and took the note from Luwin then moved to a candle to read it.
The Maester moved to leave.
"Stay." Ned said the Luwin.
"This was sent from the Eyrie. What's she doing at the Eyrie? She hasn't been back there since her wedding." Catelyn read the note swiftly, with a look of growing distress she strode over to the fireplace and threw the letter in.
"What news?" Ned asked as he walked over to his wife.
"She's fled the capital. She says Jon Arryn was murdered. By the Lannisters. She says the king is in danger."
Ned frowned, Herian had already told him this though with her it was just a guess, she admitted to that readily. Now the same news again, but from a source that was not a guess. The recalled the elfs words. "Fevers do not spare loved ones." he thought, then looked at his wife.
"What is it Ned? Do you know something?"Cat asked watching her husbands face.
"Herian mentioned to me that Jon Arryns' death didn't sound natural. Apparently she is knowledgeable with such things, she could offer no proof but was concerned. Now this comes," he gestured to the fire place. "Do you think she is sure?"
"Lysa's head would be on a spike right now if the wrong people had found that letter. Do you think she would risk her life, her son's life, if she wasn't certain her husband was murdered?" Catelyn said firmly.
Luwin entered the conversation. "If this news is true, and the Lannisters conspire against the throne, who but you can protect the king?"
"They murdered the last Hand. Now you want Ned to take the job." Cat said in the same desperate town.
"The king rode for a month to ask Lord Stark's help. He's the only one he trusts. You swore the king an oath, my lord." Luwin said solely.
Cat argued back. "He spent half his life fighting Robert's wars. He owes him nothing." To Ned she said. "Your father and brother rode south once on a king's demand."
The Maester said softly. "A different time. Different king."