Jon
"It hasn't changed much," Jon remarked.
Tormund nodded. "What are a few years to these old stone walls, when stacked upon thousands more?"
The grey stones of Winterfell were warm, warm from the hot springs that lay beneath the castle, and warm from the memory of Jon's youth. It was hard not to feel at home in a place where you can recognize every crack in the walls, every thread of every tapestry.
I don't belong here though. I didn't belong as a boy, and I don't belong now.
He had loved the castle he grew up in more than any of the trueborn Stark children. Even when he was thirteen, a man grown, he would hate it when his father made him leave to join the rangers at their watch. Eddard insisted that all Lords and Lordlings should spend time with those under his employ, and understand what a days work is for the less fortunate, but Jon hated to leave the warm embrace of Winterfell.
Why do I love it so? I have always known this is not my place. I am no true Stark.
Tormund looked at him, and a flicker of pity flashed in his eyes. Jon realized that he had spoken his thoughts aloud.
"It is because you do not belong that you grew so attached." He said simply.
That made Jon think of Robb, which he had been trying not to do since the king had left his chambers weeping a couple hours ago.
Robb is Winterfell. Embracing me, loving me, making me feel... safe. But I belong in Robb's arms no more than I belong in Winterfell, and with every embrace I know that sooner or later it will have to end.
If only he understood... we were bastard and Stark, we would always have gone down separate paths. I could not bare to suffer him leaving me, so I left first.
Is that what I am doing now, too? Fleeing happiness in fear?
... No, it is for Westeros.
"But stay focused, Snow." Tormund finished. Jon realized that it had only been a heartbeat since the wilding had last spoke, but his mind was in such a frenzy that every heartbeat felt like a moon's turn.
Time always passed slowly in the audience halls however. This was where those who wanted to speak before the court were made to wait their turn. There was no particular order, no way to know whether you were next. Jon had made sure he would be prepared... but the events of the night before had left him tired, miserable, and afraid.
Will I cry? He wondered. I will not. I cannot. But when he thought about looking into Robb's heartbroken face once more, he wished that he could.
That thought summoned the guards, who escorted him into the court.
He did not look Catelyn in the eye, but he did not have to see her to know that she wore a scowl. Jon kept focused on Robb, he did not want to arouse suspicion by appearing meek to his brother.
Robb might have had the same thought. His crown was bronze, his throne was weirwood, but his eyes were iron. I must look as angry as he does, but for him it is no act. He has reason to hate me.
"Your Grace," Jon bowed, and before he could get another word out, his sweet mother-in-law cut him off.
"The King has no time for this. Make your sorry proposal now, Snow, so we can send you home."
She sat to Robb's left, with the other members of his small council. Maester Luwin sighed deeply, and Littlefinger, surprisingly, looked truly disgruntled by something. It made Jon very uncomfortable to see the man without a cocky smile on his lips. I'd have sooner expected Lady Stark to be dressed in golden silks and dancing like a maid.
Jon saw no other option but to do what Catelyn suggested.
"I have come as the Lord Commander of Castle Black to make a plea to the crown on behalf of the Night's Watch. The creatures beyond the wall grow restless-"
"Grumpkins and snarks," Catelyn sniffed.
"The Others overwhelm us with every encounter. We ask for you to send us your thieves and rapists, any criminals you can offer."
"Which we have been doing." She sniffed again
"And as much gold as you can spare."
"Out of the question." Catelyn stood up at that. "The loyal crannogmen of the Neck need our gold to protect them from the Ironborn invasion. White Harbour needs our gold to rebuild, they still suffer greatly from the after-effects of Tywin's siege. There are ships to be built, laws to be enforced, rebellions to quell, and you ask us to give our coin to killers, rapists and wildings? This is a waste of the court's time."
"I quite agree," Petyr added, still looking uncharacteristically sullen. "You assume the North to be more stable than it is, Snow, you know nothing of what it takes to hold a newborn kingdom."
The king of said kingdom did not break his gaze with Jon, but raised a hand to silence the two overzealous members of his council.
"Luwin," he said. "You have not spoke."
Neither have you.
Maester Luwin stood up with a little difficulty, but he looked much fitter than Jon remembered him. "I fear my two fellow councilmen are fundamentally... correct, Your Grace." This one at least had the decency to look regretful at turning down the plea. "We will continue to send as many convicted men as we can, but at present this is all we can promise the Night's Watch. I sincerely hope that we will be in a position one day soon wherein we can be of more help to your fight against the Others."
Petyr shook his head. "We don't even know if the Others exist."
Yoren scowled. "Reports from the Night's-"
"No. He's right, Luwin." Robb's voice cut in. "Reports prove nothing. When a man opens his mouth the truth is rarely what he speaks. The same is true of ravens and scrolls. I cannot afford to place my trust in men such as these."
The knife that Jon had found stuck in his heart this morning began to twist.
Catelyn smirked. "Lord Commander, you are dismissed. Gather your possessions and be gone."
Yoren cleared his throat. "You are welcome here for seven days and seven nights, Lord Commander." He added.
"That is the custom of the south, and the new gods." Lady Stark objected. "Jon will leave today."
Jon's fingers curled into a fist. "I will not linger." He said, and exited for his guest chambers.
There was not much to pack. Back when Jon had first arrived at Castle Black he decorated his quarters with things that reminded him of Winterfell. A weirwood-carving that Arya and Bran had made for him, a purple handkerchief Sansa had sewed together, and a useless, pointed stick that Rickon had offered when he learned that Jon was to leave.
Now that he had returned to Winterfell, those things were left at Castle Black, and this room was decorated with things that reminded him of the Wall. A dragonglass dagger was concealed in the sewing of his cloak, and a book that Samwell had once given him rested by the bedside.
As Jon pricked himself on the sharp point of Ygritte's arrow, the same arrow that had torn into his leg a long time ago, he wondered which castle was truly his home.
I must not wonder such things. I am a man of the Night's Watch. I have taken vows.
You can't take back vows, but he had broken a few already, the arrow was a hard reminder of that.
"A sorry sack of rubbish," Jon heard behind him as he filled the last of his possessions into the bag. "But you never appreciated fine items. Remember when I gave you my white rose the day you left for the wall? I found it in your room when you had gone. You were supposed to take it with you."
I didn't want anything that reminded me of you.
"It wouldn't have lived for very long." Jon replied. "I doubt it would have survived the journey."
Robb frowned. "You should have taken it. It was cruel to leave it gathering dust. I didn't discover the floral corpse until months after you left, when I felt brave enough to enter your vacated room. My heart broke all over again."
I will not speak of all this. I will not think about it. Not until I am back at the Wall, and even then only as I lay in bed at night.
Jon shoved past his brother, but a hand clasped his shoulder.
"Jon wait. We need to talk, it will be quick."
Talking means thinking, and that is the one thing I can not do, not until I am back at the Wall.
"I'm coming with you," his brother finished. "To Castle Black."
That surprised Jon enough to elicit speech against his will. "What mummer's farce is this?" He asked.
"It is not unheard of for a king to visit the Night's Watch, it has happened many times before."
"In times of peace." Jon argued.
"The war is ended," Robb said stubbornly. "Peace is in Westeros again."
"You are a fool."
"Why must you be like that? Why must you insist on us being apart? We are grown men now Jon, we answer to no-one."
"You are the king. You answer to the realm, and the realm needs a strong hand to recover from the war."
"You told me yourself that the Others need our attention!"
"And your very council told me that the North is unstable."
"You would have my resources, my gold, but you would not have me, is that it?" Robb looked close to tears, not at all the kingly man he had been in the court chambers. "I know you love me, Jon Snow. Why do you push me away?"
Because having you means losing you, and I cannot suffer such grief.
"Because I am a man of the Night's Watch," he said instead, and freed himself from his brother's grasp.
The next thing Jon knew, he was mounting his horse next to Tormund. I will not think on it. He dug his heels into his spurs. I will not think. But Robb's face was there everytime he closed his eyes.