Ghost sniffed at his old leather boots as he turned around to pick up his sword from his bed. Jon straightened and surveyed his quarters.
When he entered boyhood, he first shared a large room with Robb. Together they would dream of the day they'd be handed steel swords for the first time; another dream would be when they march north to the Wall and help defend the Seven Kingdoms from the troublesome wildlings. Eventually Lord Stark decided it was time for Robb to have his own chambers.
After Lord Stark told him he was a bastard, Jon often dreamt he was a Stark of Winterfell. Lady Stark was kind to him and his half-siblings loved him as much as he loved them…yet he was branded a Snow – a bastard of the North.
"Come on," Jon told Ghost who had sat down silently. "We will leave with my uncle Benjen in a few hours and there are plenty of people to bid goodbye to." I will miss Winterfell. The thought of joining the prestigious Night's Watch thrilled him yet filled him with sadness. Once the gates of Winterfell close behind him, he would never duel or train with Robb again; arguing with Lyarra would be naught but faint words; no more teaching Bran archery; listening patiently to Arthur's childish chatter would end; even sparring and quarrelling with Greyjoy would be nothing but a memory. Jon's heart ached as he stepped over the threshold of his oaken bedchamber door.
Arya.
"Why are you leaving?" she demanded, her grey eyes flashing with anger. "Do you not miss us?"
"Arya…" said Jon uncomfortably. He tried to take another step but she blocked him, her arms crossed in front of her chest. He looked down at her. "Arya, I don't want us to be on bad terms when I leave."
"Winterfell is your home! Our home, stupid! You don't have to go running off to the Wall like a coward because you're not a Stark."
"I'm not a coward-"
"Yes you are!" she almost shouted. "You told me that cowards run to the Wall like dogs with their tails between their legs!"
Jon flushed. He had hoped to break the news of his departure to her last – it would give him time to think of what to say. He silently cursed. Why did I tell her that I thought cravens ran to the Wall? Fool. "I cannot do anything here," Jon said, thinking rapidly. "You, Lyarra and Gwenysse will all flourish House Stark's status through good marriages, Robb will be the next Lord of Winterfell and your little brothers will all be knights. What can I possibly do? I'm a Snow!"
Arya glared at him. "Is that what you care about? What about me? What about Robb? Don't you think we will miss you?"
Of course I will miss you. Especially you. "You know I will miss you-"
"Don't leave!" Jon's mouth dropped open when Arya wrapped her skinny arms around him and buried her face in his chest. "Please don't leave," she whispered softly. "I don't want you to go…"
"I must," Jon said gently, relieved Arya was no longer mad at him. Despite her small size, an angry Arya was not good. "Uncle Benjen is First Ranger. Imagine if I could rise in the ranks of the exalted Night's Watch! You will be proud to call me your brother when I see you again as a ranger."
"I am already proud to call you my brother, Jon."
Jon smiled and patted her back. "I'll always be proud of you."
Arya broke away, a look of horror written on her face. "With you gone, who will be brave enough to fight against me?"
Jon laughed. "You have plenty to choose from. There is Robb-"
"He's a coward."
"Very well…there is Domeric-"
"He's a coward too."
Jon frowned slightly. "How is Domeric a coward?" He could not help but recall uneasily of Domeric's composed exterior when he prepared to kill the direwolf pups. A coward would not draw his sword to kill pups out of mercy.
"He never fights with me," said Arya promptly. "Whenever I ask him, he would say the same thing. 'I don't want you hurt'," she mimicked Domeric, "'if I do, Lord Stark will have my head'. See? Coward."
"That…that is not cowardice Arya. That is chivalry. Besides, how do you think it would look if he did injure you? People would say Domeric Bolton deliberately attacked Lord Stark's daughter."
Arya scoffed. "So?"
Jon shook his head with an exasperated sigh. "Arya. Do you want your father to be burdened with trouble? People will talk and say that the Boltons still hold a grudge against the Starks or something. That'll go against everything Lyarra and Domeric's betrothal stands for."
"Why is it that everyone talks about either Robb's betrothal or Lyarra's?" Arya rolled her eyes. "Surely there is more interesting news."
"Like what?"
Arya's eyes sparkled mischievously. Oh no. "Will you help me put sheep dung in Jeyne's bed? There's enough time…before you leave."
"I don't know…"
"Come on! You're my last hope Jon! Lyarra said she would have nothing to do with it and Dany is sick. Again. You have to help me! Jeyne deserves to smell like sheep dung for the next few days!"
"Dany is sick?" That was news to Jon. "Has Maester Luwin seen her?" he asked anxiously. "Has she caught a cold?"
"You sound like Robb. All Dany said was that she's suffering from some minor ailment or something. You know Jeyne must suffer! How can you stand watching her moon and pine at Robb like a silly cow? She calls you and Dany bastards too – when Mother isn't around of course."
Jon shrugged. "Dany and I are bastards."
"Don't call yourself that! You're my brother and Dany's my cousin. I hate when people call you bastards." Her eyes narrowed. "Why is Jeyne still here? Why can't Father remove her from here? Winterfell will be a much better place without her or her annoying friends."
"Vayon Poole had been loyal to Winterfell and your father for many years and Jeyne is his daughter. If you find Jeyne Poole irritating, how will you cope with all the other southron ladies if you are ever invited to King's Landing?"
Arya snorted. "I will not go."
"What if it's Robb's wedding?"
"Robb will marry Lyanna here."
True enough. "I have enough time for a spar," said Jon lightly. "I'll just go and say goodbye to everyone else-"
"Can we spar now?" begged Arya. "Please? You might spend hours farewelling Robb and then leave for the Wall without time for a last fight. Besides, after you say your vows you'll come back to visit Winterfell wouldn't you? It'll probably be years away and I won't be here. Robb still will."
Jon sighed. "I hope you've been practising," he teased. Arya grinned and both of them walked to the training yard, Arya almost running with glee. As Jon placed his sword and cloak onto a stone bench, Arya had grabbed two wooden swords from the pile of wooden swords Ser Rodrik always left nearby. Sitting patiently beside the bench were their pups, Ghost and Nymeria.
"Ready?" inquired Jon, positioning himself. Before he could move, Arya lunged at him and whacked him with her sword. "Arya!" exclaimed Jon, staggering as she thwacked him again. He managed not to trip over his own feet and swing his sword against hers.
Thunk.
The two wooden blades collided. Arya grinned. If only Arya was born a boy, Jon thought as he defended another attack. A pity the gods decided to grant the Starks a wild girl than a boy. He parried two blows in rapid succession. As if cheering on her mistress, Nymeria yapped happily. Suddenly, as if born a natural swordsman, Arya had knocked his sword from his hand.
Jon stared at her, astonished.
"I didn't know you lost to girls Snow!"
Theon fucking Greyjoy. He was one Jon would not miss once he left Winterfell. When Theon first arrived at Winterfell's gates, Jon pitied him. He could scarcely imagine what it would be like to leave home and spend possibly the rest of your life as a hostage to your family's enemy. Jon's sympathy for Theon vanished once that cocky kraken revealed his true colours.
"Very funny," said Jon sarcastically. To his dismay, Robb and Domeric had also watched his spectacular loss…against Arya.
"See?" said Arya triumphantly. "I can defeat Jon."
Jon flushed as the others choked with laughter. "You lost…to a nine year old girl," snickered Theon. "What a brave man of the Wall you will be! Are you sure you want to freeze your balls off at the Wall, Snow? Wait, let me guess. You plan to go there…only to run back here!"
Jon wanted nothing more than to strangle that squid. "Taking the black is an honour Jon," said Domeric solemnly. "The Night's Watch will be pleased to have a man like you in their ranks. I heard Lord Tyrion Lannister plans to travel to the Wall with the other visiting black brothers. Will you be accompanying him too, or will you be riding beside your uncle?"
"I'll probably ride beside Uncle Benjen," answered Jon.
"I talked with Lord Tyrion at the feast. He was quite knowledgeable about the North for a southroner."
"Indeed. Quite witty for a dwarf too. Did you see how much he could drink? It was shocking; cup after cup of good wine."
"Does he really drink that much?" said Arya, interested.
Robb glanced at her. "You shouldn't be listening to this! It's inappropriate for a lady's ears!" He frowned. "Did you run away from Septa Mordane again?"
"I'm not a lady!" huffed Arya. "So what if I miss another sewing session? I tried to tell Father that we already have too many sewing sessions but he didn't seem to listen. Why can't I stay?"
"Sneak back," advised Jon. "Septa Mordane is probably still praising Lyarra's embroidery and will not notice if you sneak in. I'll see you again before I leave. I promise." He squeezed her shoulder.
"Will there be time for another duel?" said Arya hopefully.
Theon snorted. "No," said Jon gently. "You're progressing well. Maybe you can show Father and he may let you train with Robb, Theon and Domeric. You know I love you, right?"
Arya nodded, her grey eyes blank. "I will watch you until you are out of sight," she vowed. "Septa Mordane wouldn't let me watch Mother and Bran leave; she'll not stop me bidding farewell to you."
"Should you not be in the Great Hall, eating your last meal at Winterfell?" The Imp sauntered up to him, a cup in hand. Jon did not need to guess what it was. "I see you're ready to go," the Imp noted, glancing at his black furs. "The same can't be said about your future brothers."
"We still have an hour before we leave," said Jon stiffly, shifting uncomfortably to avoid his stare. "I'll go and eat in a few minutes." To his discomfort, Tyrion the Imp stood beside him, taking a sip of wine. "A lovely view," he commented, giving a nod to the crypts and the broken tower. "The home of dearly departed Starks and a collapsed tower. A pleasant scenery, hmm? Now the question is…what is a bastard like you doing here? I doubt you have Stark ancestors to bid goodbye to do you?" He snickered.
Jon grimaced. "What are you doing here, Lord Tyrion?"
"Please, call me Tyrion. Judging by my stature, I will never be a knight, and my father would rather eat his own shit than declare me his heir of Casterly Rock." The dwarf sniggered. "Though I am the legal heir of Casterly Rock. I most likely will not come to Winterfell again so why not take in the scenery while I can? It's quite lovely; the melting snow, abandoned towers, ancient godswood…shall I go on? I can see why a good many love Winterfell."
"It is the most empty. There are still Northern lords milling in the courtyard. I didn't want to talk to them."
"I see. Care for a sip?" Tyrion offered his wine cup to Jon. "It's very good. You might not ever taste it again."
"I'm sure they have wine at the Wall."
"How long have you considered joining the Wall?"
Ever since Waymar left for the Watch. "Quite some time," answered Jon. "I am no longer a boy and I am not needed here. Robb will continue learning to be the Lord of Winterfell, the girls will soon leave to their husbands, the younger Stark boys will be given their own lands…"
"So? Did Lady Stark treat you poorly?"
"Well no-"
"Did Lord Stark separate you from his trueborn children?"
"No but-"
"Were you in any way mistreated or abused?"
"No-"
"There!" Tyrion gave him a victorious grin. "I see no reason why you should go to the Wall when you are perfectly accepted here!"
"What do you know about being a bastard at Winterfell?"
Tyrion paused for a minute. "All dwarfs are bastards in their father's eyes," he said finally. "People whisper about you yes? At least they have the decency to say what they want about you quietly. How do you think they treat dwarfs? At court, I am ridiculed and laughed at. Believe me bastard, it would've been much worse if I did not have the good fortune of being born a Lannister."
"Joining the Night's Watch is honourable-"
"Shit on honour," snorted Tyrion. "Honour may be viewed highly here in the North, but in the south, no one gives a fuck about honour. Honour will no doubt get you killed. Once long ago the Night's Watch was full of honourable men who were devoted to duty – once long ago. Are you aware your future black brothers are mostly lowborn and criminals?"
"Yes…"
The Imp chuckled. "A lovely prospect is it not? Gaining more brothers. What did Lord and Lady Stark say to your desire to be a black brother?"
"They did not sound happy but Lord Stark said if it was what I wished, then he would ride to the Wall with me."
"Did he? When I saw Lord Stark this morning, he was conversing with one of his Northern lords. He did not seem ready to leave with you." Jon flushed. "What are your true intentions running north?"
Jon said nothing.
"Very well," said Tyrion, drinking more wine. "Before you leave, are you aware that you cannot marry or ever have children?"
"Yes," said Jon testily. "My father told me everything about it already and I did learn about it in the schoolroom."
"Of course you did. Of course you did. Have you ever had a sweetheart?"
Jon was taken back. "I'm sorry?"
"Have you ever fallen in love?" repeated Tyrion. "Are you in love with a girl in Winterfell? Think about her. Once you leave for the Wall, you will never see her again. If you do, you can never marry her. Being of the honourable Lord Stark's blood, I doubt you will even think of having a tumble with her."
I wouldn't. Jon felt torn. For the last few days, he had been too wrapped up in his own thoughts he had forgotten about the feelings of others. It was true that Daenerys's a bastard, but she was foremost Lord Stark's ward. Would he have a chance with her or would it be better to forget about her and continue his trip to the Wall. "I…" said Jon weakly. "I plan to join the Night's Watch…"
You haven't said your vows yet," Tyrion pointed out. "It is true that a bastard like you can rise through the ranks at the Wall, but why bother?"
"Why not?"
"You can be knighted by your master-at-arms here. Ser Jon Snow! I heard you are good with the blade. You might make an illustrious name for yourself when you enter jousting tourneys and melees."
"We don't have many tourneys in the North."
Tyrion rolled his eyes. "Do you think me a fool, bastard? Go south! There are plenty of tourneys there! It's rumoured that there are tourneys almost every day in Highgarden. To my knowledge, there will be a tourney in a few months' time. I believe it is to celebrate our good Queen Catelyn's birthday. Go south. There are no Targaryens left." He chuckled. "I doubt you have to worry about your sisters if they wish to attend. There will be no Targaryen princes abducting Stark ladies in any more tourneys." Jon managed a small smile.
"Arya does not want me to go," he admitted.
"Ah," mused Tyrion. "The one the king thought looked like Lyanna Stark. Have I convinced you enough to stay?"
"Possibly. Why do you offer me advice?"
Tyrion favoured him with an enigmatic smile. "Why not? I thought you needed a fresh set of eyes on your dilemma. Besides, I believe Lord Stark will be pleased when you tell him you decide not to take the black."
"Does your lord father want you to take the black?"
The Imp of Lannister guffawed. "And what? Be a further disappointment and embarrassment to the great and powerful House Lannister? Between us bastard, I think he will actually smile if I die before him." Jon could not resist a grin. Tyrion glanced at the Great Hall. "I feel slightly peckish," he declared. He looked down at his now empty goblet, "and I need a refill," he added. "If you don't mind, bastard, I will be leaving you for some nourishment."
"Wait," Jon heard himself say. The Imp arched an eyebrow. "I already asked Mikken – the blacksmith – to forge a sword for Arya. I thought it would a farewell gift, but as I'm not leaving…"
"Give it to her anyway," Tyrion advised. "Say it was meant to be a parting gift. It was nice speaking to you bastard – perhaps we might meet again. I wonder if there are any beef-and-bacon pies left for me!" He nodded slightly at him and ambled away to the Great Hall, whistling a cheerful tune. Jon stared at him until he disappeared from sight. For a split second, Jon wished Tyrion the Imp would stay at Winterfell for a few more days; he was surprisingly pleasant company for a dwarf…and a Lannister.
Arya stared at the slender blade in front of her, her mouth dropped open. She looked up at Jon. "This…this is for me?"
Jon nodded as Arya slowly touched the steel. "This is no toy," he warned. "Be careful you don't cut yourself. The edges are sharp enough to shave with."
She examined the small sword with wonder. "It's so skinny."
"So are you," Jon responded. "I had Mikken make this. The bravos use swords like this in the Free Cities. It certainly won't hack a man's head off, but it can poke him full of holes if you are fast enough. I thought to give it to you as a parting gift, but as I'm not leaving…" He placed the sword in her hands and showed her how to hold it. "Do you know what the first lesson is?"
"Stick them with the pointy end." A doubtful look crossed her long face. "Septa Mordane will take it away from me."
"Not if she doesn't know you have it. Put the sword down first!" he said as she jumped on him for a hug. "All the best swords have names," he added.
"Like Ice." Arya glanced at the blade in her hand. "Does this have a name? Oh, please tell me."
"Can't you guess?" Jon teased. "Your very favourite thing…"
Arya seemed puzzled at first. Then it came to her.
"Needle!"
This is the first Jon POV I wrote and I'm not particularly happy with it. Don't kill me but Jon is not one of my favourite characters. Well...I like him better in fanfictions when he isn't sent to the Wall, married to Margaery or half-Targaryen. Basically I planned from the start that Jon wouldn't go to the Wall, but I wanted Tyrion to persuade him to stay. I think I might try and write another Jon chapter later...maybe. Anyway, the next chapter is a Sansa chapter! That was quite fun to write hahaha. I'll update again in 3-4 days! :) I hope this chapter wasn't too disappointing a read.
