Chapter fourteen- Under Moonlight
After a loud shout that carried over the many laughs the words came forth without thought. "Ser, nothing would please me more." Jon stated and Ser Barristan beamed. Jon stood from the table of squires, knowing another table would carry more flare. Across the hall the wolves moved near, darting under tables beside him. Through the sea of smoke, voices and shouts the two progressed. Approaching with a halt, coming before another table. Only this table was abundant with shouts, enough for his ears to bleed and rested near the central part of the hall.
The table accrued to be anything but inaudible, with men beaming and yelling to the other. Chicken and drink trickling down their beards and spilling onto the floor. Ale in hand, all clustered beside the other, huddled on the benches.
Eyes searched through the chaos of men with different clothes of various realms. Countless he failed to recognize, while few he did. The table a combination of men in surcoats from their respected houses. For once Jon did not feel out of place, experienced warriors whom fought in tourneys and battles, true seasoned knights. In fact in the seamless place. He knew knighthood required more than horse, sword and armor. Above all else, it required chivalry and skill at arms. Approximately, what he recognized he would thrive in.
Jon remained beside Ser Barristan before the table. The men were delved deep in conversation and food, few noticed Jon or the kingsguard. With this conundrum the old knight grasped his ale and with force slammed it down on the table. The cause, men came to a halt in conversation at a moment's notice, as if they failed their speech.
"Gentlemen." He sounded through out the table. The men fell noiseless, turned from their seats facing the kingsguard. Among the hall Jon gazed down a table of several knights, various faces of realms staring at him.
Ser Barristan settled his hand on Jon's right shoulder as the bastard stood at the center of the table, ahead of the men. The smoke slowly wafted through the air, past his face. "This is a friend of mine, Jon Snow. I know you will show him the same courtesy as you have me."
The men smiled. One in particular eyes grew and he leaned forward. A man of thirty years with short dusty brown hair and a pug nose, with a dark red surcoat over his chest. A few crumbs of food laid strewn on his chest. The hedge knight recognized the young man with an assured eye. "You're the Starks boy, aren't you?" The hedge knight asked, his voice slurred having had his fill of ale.
Jon nodded. "Ned Stark is my father, Ser."
The man smiled taking another sip of his ale, the liquid seeping down his face splashing onto the floor. "Your father is an honorable man. I am most humble, to meet you. I am Ser James werner." The man lowered his head, face kissing the ground. With nothing more, sitting back down with a loud thud.
Ser Barristan took stock of the men from the neighboring on the bench. "This is Bruce Kilgore." A rubout older knight from the stormlands with short greasy auburn hair and dirt covering his cheeks.
"Well met." Kilgore said with a heavy voice and a simple rise of his cup.
The man beside him. "A hedge knight I met not a night ago. Ser Herlde." Jon eyes encountered the knight. At once he knew it was the undistinguishable man from the previous day. Eyes did not linger and found them once again. The same man whom stared in the courtyard seemed to follow his same routine. Those eyes did not find the rest of the world very exciting, or they would gaze elsewhere other than Jon.
Looking to the edge another man sat, half of his body shrouded in darkness. "Ser Sandor." The hound did not answer and kept to himself at the far edge of the table. On the opposite side, Ser Beric sat and grinned while another man sat close. "And Ser Jerold Willames."A tall man from dourne with long flowing black hair and wearing a blue surcoat, lowered his head.
"At your service, my lord." The dornish man declared with an elegance and stood with a bow. Jon stood surprised by his words, never once this welcome uttered to him.
"I am no lord, Ser."
The man seemed puzzled. "You are the son of, Ned Stark?" He questioned leaning closer.
"Yes."
He smiled. "Then you are my lord. We of the dornish lands do not concern ourselves with this mockery. We see no bastards in our eyes. Any boy or girl is a lord or lady." The knight's words caused a beam from Jon, while the others grew weary of the discussions of dorne.
"Enough of the dornish lands and their verdicts. Sit down… I hear tell, you fought and beat Ser Geoff. Am I correct?" Ser James asked eagerly.
"You are, Ser." Jon confirmed.
A grin spread across his face like a bow, his cheekbones rise, turning to the men a great smile for them. "Well look at this, we have a real knight in our midst. Nobler then you lot." Ser James declared with a boom. Without another second he stood at the table with a bow. Jon stood static by what he said. "Ser Snow please come take a seat with us. There is plenty of wine for all." Jon smirked and sat down beside the humble hedge knight as the white knight acquired his own on the either. Once seated Jon found the men eyeing him, all but the hound who reserved himself at the edge, a piece of chicken ripping it between his teeth. The cracks were apparent the whole time.
First Ser James leaned in, his right elbow on the table to ease himself. "Some say you were a true knight among men. Some say you fought one against three. The likelihoods were not in your favor, but still you bested them." The men huddled close together curious as to the fight and how a young man became victorious against two knights and a squire. Ser Beric leaned forward over the table, his lips glistening as he had acquainted himself with wine from the arbor.
"I saw it for myself. A new Dragon Knight. And he did not fight with one sword, but with two swords." Ser Beric stated to the others, whom did not catch the fight, only rumors whispered in the day. A tale spoken among the guards and knights, reaching many. The men twisted back to Jon an expression of curiosity piquing.
Ser Jerold arched an eyebrow. "Two swords? Can't say I discern a knight with that purpose set in his mind." He stated gazing the table, trying to remember a knight, but in the end found none. "Why's that?" Jon simply shrugged at the question. Whenever he recalled it, it was instinct guiding his movements. Each slash was a movement of its own. But never once did life make as much sense as it did then.
"Thought it would double my chances." Jon told to a sea of silence. The numerous men grinned. Only the hound remained quiet in the corner, ripping another chicken, stuffing his mouth full.
"And that you did. Those three are pierces of dirt. I'm glad you sent them down a peg." Ser James stated.
Ser Jerold rose with a cup of wine. Straightening himself, his hand moved down his shirt to smooth the creases, as their eyes fell on him. "Here. A toast for our new brother in arms. A new knight of the north." The knight passed a cup of wine to Jon. "Only the finest dornish wine for us. I brought it up myself. All the way up the kingsroad from dorne." Jon smiled, clutched the cup of wine and with a look around poured it back. The warm liquid filled him with a sweet flavor in taste.
"It's good, Ser." The man beamed at the compliment. "Then, let me refill your cup." The man stated and Jon obliged.
With Sansa-
At the head of the hall, she sat among the princes and princess of the south. Plates of food covered the table before her. Keeping her back straight as her mother told. Numerous eyes fled and resided on the table. Winterfell a booming castle unlike ever before. She lightly eat her food. The voices around her nonstop as the sustenance was had. Her family sat beside her, all but the one whom she sought. Instead the prince sat near, never once halted his speech as at every turn of the conversation he spoke of himself and his achievements.
Sansa being polite masked herself, laughing when needed and smiling with a nod. The only hope was when the feast ended. The prince edged himself closer. "I hope you will come south. The day in the sun, is so much more improved than in this freezing hell… And in the South I can show you my crossbow." He shot with a confidence.
"Oh, you have a crossbow?" She asked.
His grin spread wide. "Only the finest in the seven. Had it special made. With it I can take aim. I can shot a boar right in the eye." Joffrey conjured to hold his favorite toy in his hands. "It was a glorious sight. I can hit a target from several paces without thought." Without knowing Joffrey took aim of his weapon, gazing he found mostly nobodies until he found the bastard. Smiling to himself, he pressed the trigger.
Jon-
Jon laughed and cheered at the others. While Ser Jerold drank more than even the hound. Slamming cup after cup down on the table with a belch. With a few drinks he ordered more. The knights cheered and slapped Jon on the back as he had a go with the wine.
Jon felt a delight, never in company with a group of friends, outside of his family. Distinguished this must be what it felt like to be surrounded by people who laughed and joked with the other. The knights were a humble company unlike that of any he knew. Although looking he noted one knight was absent from the feast. "I fail to find Ser Jamie besides us." Ser Barristan and Beric shared a laugh.
"Ser Lannister, does not deem us kind company, to put it best. He believes we are lower than him." Beric told with a smile. "He's a bit of a twat. Thinks he's the best. Hedge knights are not men in his company."
The hedge knight edged closer. "I wager I could take him." Ser James stated pumping his chest out proudly.
The rest of the men smiled mockingly. "Take him? You hear this, thinks he can take on a kingsguard. You boast and boast but you can't make song with sword and you can't hit shit."
"I could. Just need to lessen my intake of drink." He stated, his voice low with doubt.
"And when will this happen. When has a damn day dawned where you are not drinking yourself into a stupor." Ser Jerold asked.
"You'll see. Mayhaps our brave new knight here can defeat the kingsguard." Ser James declared with a hubris. Jon felt their eyes on him again and Ser James came closer.
"Tell me, Jon. What do you intend to do further south? I know for one, you should not waste your talents here." Jon knew his answer the moment the question was asked.
"To dip my blade and kneel as a knight." He told with a confidence, to a smile from every man, but one. The hound currently ripping apart a piece of chicken with his hand stopped, leaned forward. Sandor gazed over the young teenager and saw no killer before him. A lone naive boy, and that was all.
"Have you killed a man?" The burnt man asked in his ruff morbid tone. The lone question carried a weight and caused the once cheerful men to grow silent. Their eyes traced the hound and did not utter a word. Knights among Jon had sunk their blades in a man, and these men did not enjoy the sights they witnessed. Neither did they want to witness what they knew again.
Jon gazed over the man, half off his face shrouded. "No." He answered. The hound snorted as he went back to his food without a word.
Ser Barristan pleasantly patted Jon on the back bringing him to reality. "Don't concern yourself with him." Ser Barristan stated and Ser James nodded.
"You could become a hedge knight. Roam the seven with a warm ale in your hand, and a chicken to fill your belly… Don't forget all the woman you could ever desire." Ser James said with a drift, staring into nothing.
"Yeah, but you don't get any women." Ser Jerold mocked and the men shared a laugh. Ser James scoffed looking over at Jon.
"Don't listen to these petty doubters. They know nothing." he declared his lips glistening with ale. With another large swig of his ale, clearly drunk. "Tell me, Jon. You have a woman?" Jon stopped in thought from the unexpected question. Their was one girl he could think of, only one.
Looking away from the man, he found her from across the hall. Through the mist of smoke and shouts somehow eyes falling on her smile. "No… I mean, theirs this one girl I like. But, I wouldn't know what to say." The knight smiled.
"Well, let me tell you what to say, approximately." The hedge knight sat back, settling himself. "You grasp her in the arms, like so." He wrapped his arms around the air, nodding to the young man making sure he was listening every step of the way. "Be sure your arms wrap closely around her, like this." With a position as if a woman was with him. "Then, tell her she if the fairest lady in all the lands. That her beauty is that of a queen. That when you see her, all else fails to come in vision because of her splendor. She is the only thought on your mind, and all else is only a wake of clouds drifting away." The hedge knight nodded with a grin. Unknown to Ser James, Jon would say this to his own blood. That these words meant for some girl were in fact his own blood.
Some of the knights heeded as well and laughed at the man. "What are you on about?" Ser Beric asked. The knight turned and began to speak, but Jon failed to collect any of their words. They were drifting away with each beat of his heart.
Mind focused on much more important matters. Jon eyes rested on the royal table, across the hall and over at his sister. Smiling as he saw her. Lost his consternation as she laughed. Why did she have this effect, and only her. Looking as his sister giggled. With another thump of his heart his vision widened with the prince coming into view beside her. The smile that formed his face gradually twisted into a frown.
The sight caused a pit in his stomach, watching as the prince gently rested his hand with hers. Their hands entwined with the other as they laughed. The image burned through his brain. Fists clenched together as his mind blurred. The pit in his stomach caused a wallow in him.
Turning back to the knights. "You must excuse me." he told without caring if they replied. The men nodded. Without question he stood a rage convulsing, leaving the feast. Mind blurred, no sights or laughs met him, yet were constant around him. He wanted to leave this place that was his priority as quick as his legs could take him. Some women bumped into him on his way. The yells beside him failed to greet his ears, deep in thought. The room of bright colors, only a blur to him.
Pushing through a door that led to the wall of the castle, the cold winds blew into his face, a welcome feeling. The night wind lapped at Jon like some beast. The voices and yells drowned out in the breeze as the doors closed behind him.
The snow fell on him, alone. Here the sky was soundless as was the world, a quiet story. He set off on an unclear path, his feet crunching on the snow, his mind uncertain. Coming to halt against the wall Jon noticed ghosts in the courtyard, unaided. Resting his hands on the cold stone, his hands freezing to the touch.
The moon poured out over the wall, cascading over his face. Resting himself against the wall in shadow, gazing the world above him. And yet even distant from the hall, the only thoughts he held, were of her. In his mind Sansa remained, with the prince alongside her. The one unending thought endured tearing all else. Sansa would marry him. He loathed the very thought. But worse the image of her with him, laughing. Why would she like him? The prick. She was always on his mind, she was beautiful in every way and he could not deny himself that. He liked her in a way he shouldn't.
Deep in thought Jon did not perceive the door gently creek open behind him. Or the crunch of the snow as someone drew near, until they rested a few feet from his own.
"Jon." his sister's voice sounded gently behind him. Turning to find her by herself, the breeze blowing her dress. First he noticed her clothes not for the weather. In her gown she pulled it tightly around her form from the cold, her face fully flush. "Why are you here, by yourself in the cold? The feast only began." Her voice was filled with discomfort. For a split second he lost his thought, staring at her. But the prince came to mind again. He glared at her for moment, anger etched his face.
"I would ask you the same?" He shot at her and tuned back looking out into the forest. She caught anger in his tone, an unwelcome feeling washed over her. Looking at him, his face remained in dusk like his thoughts.
"What? What's wrong?" She asked closing the distance. He let a moment pass, his eyes searching for the feelings that he sensed. Feelings in his mind that vexed him, trying to reach and grasp, but persisted in darkness. How he felt for her, his own sister.
"It's. It's nothing." He shot, his tone shallow turning to her.
"It's the prince, right?… Look at me." her voice was hard, filled with emotion. Jon knew that voice well and turned over, facing her but remained silent. Sansa gazed over him, his eyes met hers finding no doubt. She knew this moment would come and she would not wait any longer. But how does one confess to your own blood? To place the cards down on the table. To risk it all. And just what will it do to them, if she tells him and he doesn't feel the same way? Just how badly will it wreck things between them? Their friendship can be destroyed in a matter of a few moments, with just a few words. Perhaps ruining everything and lose her friend forever.
Pushing those thoughts aside she pressed forward. "I don't care for him." She declared but Jon thought otherwise from the image he held and shook his head. She recognized he didn't believe her. With her mind racing, in this world she accepted how wrong this was, but finally couldn't contain it. Being apprehended inside her heart for months now. Every day the training she blushed around him, every day at dinner she shared a smile with him. He made her feel heartfelt unlike any.
"There is someone else I care for." The words carried over the silence. Jon's face softened and gazed her in mid thought, the moon reveling half of her face to him. Heartbeat thumping harder it might pop, snow gently resting in their hair. The moon broke free from its veil of clouds shining brighter than it had in years.
Sansa felt tight, she wanted to scream it out loud, for her words to lease form her throat. For her voice to come forth with the words, but she needed to say it. All this time fabricated up to this moment and she finally needed to say it or she may detonate. Her heart beating, her hand reached grasping his familiar hand she steadied her emotions. Jon felt that sensation again, his body ignited with warmth. Observing her hand grasping his, she was warm to the touch but so much more.
"Someone else?" He questioned. She bit her lip, why couldn't he understand? She felt her heart might pop at this point. With his hand in hers she grasped it firmer. Love bubbling in his heart unlike ever before. An affection overcoming his body, mind and heart. Only she formed these emotions to lease from him. Her alluring eyes so beautiful unable for his own to grasp all else. Sansa Stark caused the world to freeze in all it's momentum and she did so often and easily for Jon. Being lost in them.
In this instant no longer fearful or with doubt. After all this time she wanted, needed him to know how she felt. Each second was another her stomach churning, her face flush. "Someone, who was there with me when no one else was. Someone I know better. Who knows me better than any. There in the worst, and best of times." Her eyes fall. "I know I shouldn't. I know, that what I feel towards him is wrong." Her eyes rise to meet him again, their breath in the air. "But I do anyways. My heart tells me the love and I cannot resist it." She declared and not for a second did her grasp fail. Only for him.
He knew at this precise moment what she was saying. Each moment was as long her heartbeat hastened. The snow seemed to float gently, the breeze edging them closer entwining the two.
"Every time I see him, I want to desperately scream." She said strain in her voice. "To tell him how I feel. Tell him everything. But how can I?" Jon took in what she said. Warm moonlight filled the sky against their faces. Jon felt a jolt of warmth rush through his veins, surging through him, pumping blood in his heart. Taking deep breaths, his eyes were nearly feeling the very love clutch him in his grasp. Concentration shook unable for clear thought to graze his mind. Up close her beauty was that of no one else, stunning in every way.
She swallowed a lump in the back of her throat. No doubt, or worry, only love a love that took hold of the two and tangled them in a basking glow. Their eyes were only for each other as all else in this world faded. The dragon and wolf remained in a beautiful effervesce.
She took a long needed deep breath and finally said it. "I only want you." The words carried. Jon gradually leaned forward with a tilt, and captured her lips. The shock of the kiss elevated Sansa, his soft lips lightly to hers. Their first kiss. And a kiss so wrong. Her lips to his like a whisper as they gently allow their lips to meet. At first the kiss was soft. Very soft and very tentative. Allowing the kiss to elevate them to a higher plane. Sansa's arms slip around him, trying to keep him close to her body. The cold washed away and what was left was a basking warmth from head to toe.
To her dissatisfaction he leaned back before she could fully appreciate it. Her eyes stayed closed shut as she basked in the radiance, while Jon stood silent. Open she gazed him with an affection.
"You like him?" He asked, his voice a low whisper. Her eyes were a glaze of love and she simply nodded. Unable to stop watching him, his eyes filled with a breathless wake.
"I like him." She stated, her voice low. The sentence shot through the young bastard and he never wanted it to let go.
"I like you too." Jon declared. He gently leaned forward capturing her lips again in a sweet trail of bliss. The kiss made her stay motionless for a split second. Then they leaned away.
"We should get back." he told and she nodded.