Not gonna lie, my head literally starts aching whenever I have to write any sort of dialogue. The reason I sat so long on this chapter is because of the dialogue sections. Please tell me if it doesn't read smoothly, or it sounds robotic. I'll try my best to re-edit it whenever I have free time.

I once again want to mention that this isn't a CatelynBashing fic, though it might seem so. I really think she wouldn't be the same after the changes I made.


Chapter Three [Prelude] - Jon I [PART TWO]

292AC

Jon and Robb had been growing distant as of late.

He was slow to notice because it didn't happen all at once. It was a gradual process, and only when it was too late did, he actually realize that he was not as close as Robb as he once was.

Robb was always a loud child; loud in his crying, and loud in his laughing. He ran amongst the servants doing their duties, rolled in the mud, regularly tried to spook Maester Luwin, and screamed from the top of his lungs when things didn't go his way.

And always, always, chasing after his older brother. Whatever Jon did, Robb insisted on doing. 'Monkey see, monkey do,' Jory once japed when he saw Robb trying to imitate Jon's sword practices, even down to Jon falling into the mud from a strike of Ser Rodrik's wooden sword.

When Robb turned five, they saw less of each other due to Lady Catelyn's strict education that kept Robb occupied for hours. Jon didn't think anything of it at first, although he did feel strange at the sudden empty spot at his side. He knew Robb was meant to be Lord of Winterfell one day, so his education would be different from Jon's.

He became much more solemn during their morning prayers, and left immediately afterwards, declining several of Jon's invitations to play a game in the Godswood like they always did. He was even more distant than Sansa was and spoke less and less every time Jon managed to catch him long enough to hold a conversation. Not even father could get full sentences out of him. He skipped lunches and dinners, sometimes both on one day, and the same child who used to say that stealing the desert from under Gage's nose was the best part, shook his head when Jon asked if he wanted any of the deserts he pilfered.

He was busy with Maester Luwin, with Ser Rodrik, with reading in the library, with Lady Catelyn, then later with Ser Yobert Royce, who was sent to Winterfell from the Vale by Brynden Tully.

Jon only took real notice, one day, when he asked Robb a question about his classes with the old knight from the Vale. Jon wasn't sure what exactly it was about, military strategy perhaps, and he thought it looked interesting. There were miniature soldier models on the library floor, and maps scattered about. He wanted to know about the battle Robb was reenacting.

Robb blinked, surprised by the question, and gave Jon an odd look. He went back to positioning his wooden soldiers as if Job hadn't even opened his mouth. (Jon recognized that look, he had seen it on Lady Catelyn many times before, but he refused to acknowledge that the same look crossed on his brother's face.)

Jon was nonplussed. Sure, Robb had been distant as of late, but he still answered when he was spoken to. Jon brushed it off as intense concentration on what was in front of him and approached Robb again later that day. He was again ignored. Okay, then. Someone is in a foul mood.

He spent more time with father in his solar and during meals, and left his brother alone for a few days, then again approached him after morning prayers. This time Robb not only ignored his greeting but wrinkled his nose and moved away from him as if he smelled of something vile.

"Bastard," he muttered under his breath.

Jon jerked as if he had been physically slapped and stared wide-eyed at the familiar stranger before him. Robb briefly returned his look, as though Jon had been the one to say it, then he squared his shoulders, more confident when he realized he had been the one to utter the words.

He left without looking back.

Jon felt like ice-cold was poured over him with the contemptuous insult he never thought he'd ever hear coming out from any of his siblings.

He passed the morning in a daze, not fully believing what just happened. Robb called him a bastard? He could have believed it if it were the ladylike Sansa who was closest to her mother, but Robb? Sweet Robb that proclaimed Jon his most favourite person in the entire world? Unthinkable. Had he misheard? He couldn't have. Not with the reaction Robb gave afterwards, and not with the words still ringing in his head. Bastard, bastard, bastard.

In the afternoon, he thought of Lady Catelyn and her hatred of him. She must have sunken her claws into Robb and managed to turn him away from Jon. How and when? Robb was never close to his mother and always shied away from her touches, since he was a young babe. Why would he choose her over Jon? He wouldn't. Yet he did. It must have been when Robb turned five and his mother began taking a more active role in his life, after she spent the first four just glaring from the sidelines. What words was she whispering in his ears? Bastard, bastard, bastard.

When he laid in bed that night, his hurt and confusion became indignant fury. Was he hurt, yes? But more than that he was angry.

Angry at both mother and son for looking at him with judgment. What had he ever done to deserve it? Despite not having a good relationship with father, Jon had never once spoken to Lady Catelyn without respect, had never once acted arrogant because both her husband and children spent more time with a Snow than they did with her. He kept out of her way and ignored her as she ignored him. If she woke up one day expressing her want to change, he'd have welcomed it without ridicule.

And Robb. Robb, who has been together with him since his birth, who snuck into his room at night, who shared stolen sweets together, who had contests with him to make Arya laugh, who searched for dragon eggs in Winterfell's crypts so they could go an adventure together, who wanted Jon to be his Dragonknight, who laid with him on the rug in father's solar whispering about everything and nothing.

When they met for training the next day, he inwardly yelled at his brother. I was the one who spent the most time with you, when your mother didn't even care about you! What happened to me being your favourite person? You walk away just like that because your mother told you to?

Robb was unresponsive, as he always was lately. His stony expression, his rigid back; through Jon's eyes it was arrogance and disgust at being in the presence of a bastard. It only served to fan his growing anger. He was obviously not affected by the words he said yesterday, nor was there any apology in his eyes.

He spotted Lady Catelyn watching from ramparts above and felt something dark crack inside him.

Thwack! Jon's wooden sword striked against his shoulder. Robb gasped, both in pain and surprise.

Jon always held back when fighting Robb, mindful of his age and stature. Today though, he treated Robb with the same severity he treated Theon with during their bouts. If he was determined to treat him like Theon did, then Jon would return the attitude in kind. It was his first time being on the receiving end of Jon's temper that was usually reserved for others.

Robb stumbled under the sudden barrage of blows but held his ground. It was no use; though Robb may have been better than most his age, he was still younger and weaker than Jon, who himself was above average. Eventually, his sword loosened from his grasp, and he was sent sprawling into the mud with a thrust to his side.

"Yield."

Robb made to stand, but Jon pushed the tip of the wooden sword at his chest, shoving him back down. "Yield," he repeated, harsher.

"I yield," he said behind clenched teeth. It was clear he wouldn't be allowed to get back into the match.

"Good spar, lads," Ser Rodrik clapped him on his back. "That's all for now. Go get yer'selves cleaned up."

Jon sent a small, satisfied smile in his brother's direction, 'how's that for a bastard?', but Robb wasn't even looking at him. His eyes were wide, staring up at the ramparts to his mother. Jon didn't see what sort of expression Lady Catelyn had on her face, but whatever it was made Robb pale as a ghost.

A sense of unease filled him at the look that was exchanged between the two.

Suddenly he didn't feel as victorious. Rather, he felt like he had just committed a huge mistake.

It was just after supper that Jon discovered just how big the mistake was.

His brother didn't show up, which was not unusual. Sometimes, he had his supper with his mother, who herself rarely came to the hall. Jon figured it was because of the embarrassing defeat he suffered earlier, but he couldn't shake off the strange feeling he had.

Jon was preparing for bed when commotion from beneath his window made him step outside to check what was going on. Both guards and servants were running about in clear panic. He tried to call out to one of them to ask what was happening, but all told him to go back inside and quickly continued on to wherever they were rushing. He decided to follow the noise to where there were the most people; that being the Courtyard.

He spotted his father so he knew this was the right place to be, but father was surrounded by the household guard so Jon couldn't reach him to ask questions. He stood on the side to listen in, hoping to get information that way.

"He couldn't have gotten far, my lord," Jory said from besides father. "His favorite horse is still in the stables and Hullen says all the others are accounted for."

"I'm sorry, my lord," Maester Luwin said. He had been the first one to note Robb's absence from his late-morning class, as it was strange for the boy not to show up to his lessons. The young heir was not like Theon who at times didn't show up at all, or Jon who occasionally fell asleep, or Sansa who daydreamed about her knights. Robb was Maester Luwin's best and favourite student, always sitting upright in class and asking insightful questions. He wasn't that worried until Robb missed his mid-afternoon class as well. He was hesitant to ask the Lady Catelyn, as he always suspected something wasn't right there, and didn't want the boy to get in trouble. So, he approached Ser Rodrik who was supposed to have both morning and afternoon sword training with the young lord.

"He came for morning lessons but didn't see 'im this afternoon. Figured he skipped after what happened."

"What happened?" Luwin asked carefully, already worried for the answer.

"Got beaten by his brother. Nothing unusual. Though the lad didn't take it so well today," Rodrik said, tugging at his whiskers. Robb didn't have a temper like Jon did and was generally an earnest and even-tempered boy. It wasn't like him to skip lessons just because he lost a match.

Luwin checked with some other servants and asked Lady Sansa as well, who hadn't seen Robb again after they had broken their fasts together. It was supper time when Robb still didn't show up, and he was forced to approach Lady Catelyn.

"That boy!" she hissed. "Kicking up a fuss!" She didn't know where he was either, but Luwin suspected she knew something about why he was gone.

After checking with her, he immediately sounded the alarm and went to tell Lord Stark. The sky was already dark at this point; he had gained nothing from asking around that afternoon, and they lost precious day time that could have been spent searching.

Finally figuring out that it was about Robb, who had disappeared since this morning, Jon was immediately sent into a hot panic. Robb, gone? Had someone taken him? Was his first assumption, but that was impossible. Winterfell was constantly abuzz with people milling about, and several guards were stationed at the gates at all times. It was impossible for a stranger to walk in the castle without cause, and out again with a familiar child. Mayhap it was an inside job? Again, the guards wouldn't have allowed a servant to just leave the gates with their lord's son, no matter what reason was cooked up. Jon thought of the secret passages, known only to the Stark family and a select few guards, such as Ser Rodrik and Jory; but those people were selected exactly because they would never betray the Starks. Maybe whoever took Robb was still in the castle, waiting and watching? And while everyone was running around like headless chickens, he'd use that moment to steal the heir of Winterfell away to whichever lord had paid him to do so. More theories flooded his head; all only caused his sickening feeling to deepen.

"Form up search parties. Everyone will take part!" Father barked out; voice severe in a way Jon had never heard before. He climbed onto the horse that was being held at the reins by Hodor. "Once Winter Town has been searched, whoever is able to, will help out as well."

Riders were sent out through all the gates, while father chose the East Gate to join the search in Winter Town, which was the closest settlement. He was hoping his son had only gone out to visit his cousin and aunt.

The Steward, Vayon Poole, was yelling orders at the staff to prepare hot water and blankets. They all knew how quickly a young child could succumb to the cold of the northern winds if not properly dressed. If he didn't, he would most certainly come down with a terrible cold or lose a few fingers or toes.

'He won't get frostbite', Jon wanted to tell them. The cold never seemed to affect any Stark the way it did others. Not Robb, not Arya, not Father, not Jon himself; who was a bastard, and the girly Sansa; who was most like her mother. They wore furs as everyone else did, but rarely did they feel the chill on their skins when it was removed. (No one, no Stark or servant, ever mentioned this. Mayhap they didn't even notice. But Jon did.) His brother wouldn't freeze to death. That wasn't a comfort, however, as there were other things outside of the castle walls that were more fearsome than the cold.

He caught sight of Lady Catelyn, who seemed more furious than worried. Or perhaps that was her way of dealing with distress? She clenched a piece of cloth tightly between her hands as if she were strangling it. When she saw him looking at her, her nose wrinkled, and she turned away, as one would do when they saw a pile of shit on the side of the road.

Her reaction caused the incident of this morning to once again come to mind and gave him another reason as to why his brother might have disappeared.

That look on Robb's face.

Jon's stomach felt like there were insects crawling around in it, and his heart was hammering so painfully at his ribs it could tear out of his chest at any moment. Was it his fault? Was it because he was too harsh? Was it because he wanted to teach Robb a lesson for his arrogance?

Guilt threatened to overwhelm him and eat him up. If anything happened to Robb, it would be all my fault.

Jon couldn't just sit here and wait for news of his brother. Robb was out there alone and possibly in danger. He had to go out there and search.

Riders had already been sent out the Hunter's Gate to search the Wolfswood, but if Robb didn't want to be found, they wouldn't find him. He would take notice of the sounds of hoofbeats and only hide himself deeper. A single child on the other hand… [1]

Jon faded into the shadows casted by the walls from the several lit torches. Pass the Guest House he snuck, pass the kennels, and pass the opened portcullis through the Hunter's Gate. No one took notice of him, and Jon used that to his advantage. It was easy to slip past the guards when they had more important goals on their minds. He crept along the outer walls and using the darkness of the night and the forest, he sprang forward and took off into the tree line.

If he had stopped to think, he would realize how foolish it was for one child to search the dark woods for another child, both who were only familiar with the parts closest to Winterfell and had never gone in alone without an escort. The child would just end up getting lost like the other one. But Jon wasn't thinking properly.

He had to find his brother.

Jory had the right of it; Robb ran away on foot; he wouldn't have gotten far. Had they searched the moment he disappeared, that is. But Robb was missing since this morning and must have tracked several miles by now. An eight-hour period, coupled with the traitorous woods; it was a grim situation.

Old gods, I beg of you. Hear my prayers. Father said you were always listening and watching.

He passed by the stream where he once caught fish with Jory and Farlen. There was the bird's nest he built with Sansa. There was the moss-covered boulder that Wyl joked was shaped like FatTom's face. Was Robb familiar with this place too? Did he come this way too?

Seeing nothing, he ran past it all.

He didn't know where exactly he was going, only that it was forwards. He was already past the furthest point he'd ever gone. He was lost himself and could only go forwards.

Please, gods, please. Help me find my brother. I promise I'll never stop praying every day. I promise I'll sacrifice to you when I'm older.

In the dark woods, everything looked the same. Though he doubted things would be different in daylight.

'This belongs to us,' the words he once told Robb coming to his head was an unwelcome guest. How silly he had been then.

Robb was four at the time and was allowed to travel with them on his first fishing trip. He was especially wild that day; kicking up a fuss at being held, attempting to crawl alongside the hunting dogs, and trying to jump into the stream to catch fish with his mouth. They ended up having to cut the trip short because Robb kept escaping the guards to search for wolves. He'd almost caused Ser Rodrik's heart to stop when the old knight had turned his back for only a split moment and Robb was gone. They found him sniffing at leaves, claiming he smelled supper.

Robb whispered he'd rather be King of the Wolfswood, than Lord of Winterfell. Jon felt it could be done and agreed with his brother. They spent that night entertaining themselves with stories of leading a wolfpack and stacking up a throne of skulls with all the prey they hunted. The entirety of Westeros would know about the Stark brothers in the North who owned the night. They tried howling, imagining themselves to be wolves running in the forest under the moonlight, 'This is how a wolf king sounds!', and Robb let out an ear-splitting howl that was more like the scream of a banshee. Father came in just as Jon opened his mouth, intent on surpassing Robb's howl, and gave them both a good spank before separating them to their own rooms.

Good memories, and good times.

Now the memories felt like a curse that suffocated him the deeper he ran. Now Jon saw the forest for what it was: a death trap that did not belong to anyone; filled with wild wolves and bears that could tear them apart, treecats that could swipe at them and leave gashes that would bleed out, boars that could run them over, treacherous pathways, and refuge to bandits and wildlings. This was not a place for children, least of all ones who grew up in a castle, least of all Robb.

The gods must have heard his prayers, because after an hour of running thoughtlessly, Jon stumbled across a scene that almost made him cry out.

His brother sat down against an oak tree, his head resting on his knees, and watching the moon that was peeking through the densely packed woods.

He was alive and unhurt.

He felt a wave of relief overwhelm him. Thank the gods. He would never again argue with Robb if it meant something like this would never happen. Robb being safe was more important than Jon's pride or his frustrations at being ignored.

He would take Robb back home and apologize.

He felt a wave of relief overwhelm him. Thank the gods. He would never again argue with Robb if it meant something like this would never happen. Robb being safe was more important than Jon's pride or his frustrations at being ignored.

He would take Robb back home and apologize.

Robb, who was oblivious to the panic overtook Winterfell with his supposed kidnapping, oblivious to the potential danger surrounding him, and who didn't look panicked or lost. It confirmed to Jon that he didn't want to be found.

He didn't want to spook Robb into fleeing, so he crept along the tree line, hoping to catch his brother off guard when he was close enough to grab at him.

Jon was so focused on keeping an eye on his target, making sure he didn't somehow disappear, that he wasn't paying notice to the ground, and his boot stepped onto a fallen branch. The sound was like the crack of a bone in the silence of the woods, and Robb's head snapped up.

When Robb caught sight of him, he began running and Jon immediately gave chase.

The further they ran; the more panicked Jon became. They never went far when going into the Wolfswood and they were always accompanied by their father or Winterfell's guards.

Though Robb had a head start on him, it didn't take long for him to catch up. Jon had always been the faster one and had long, lean legs while Robb was smaller and thinner. He could run, but he'd never escape, especially when Jon was hellbent on reaching him.

"Got you!" He caught hold on Robb's tunic and jerked him back.

"Let go of me! Bastard, bastard!" He wrenched away from Jon's hold and tried to twist his wrists in an attempt to get free.

"Call me that all you want, you brat. I'm taking you back home!"

"You're just a bastard! Just because you're better than me at swordplay doesn't mean you can tell me what to do!"

"I can and I will!"

"You better let go of me, else I'll-I'll make you regret it!"

"Try me!"

They tugged and shoved at each other, both tried to out-yell the other, and between their struggle, neither noticed that they were getting closer to a raised piece of land that would send them sprawling 20ft to the ground below.

"Watch out!" He tried to warn Robb, but it was too late, they were already too close to the edge, and Robb wasn't listening. They both let out yelps when their feet touched open ground, and tumbled down, still clutching onto each other's clothes.

When they reached the bottom the force of the landing roughly pulled them apart.

Jon groaned, but wasn't in much pain, only his shoulder ached. Their rolling had been cushioned by piles of snow, and luckily there were no stones or tree stumps in their path. Robb, on the other hand, was whimpering and curled into a ball, clutching at his legs.

The sound grabbed Jon's attention and he jumped to his feet, rocking slightly from dizziness at having gone in circles. Did he hurt Robb during their scuffle or was he struck by something during the fall down?

"Are you okay?" Jon reached out to him, intending to help, and distressed at the thought of his brother having broken any limbs. Robb returned his concern by spitting phlegm at him. It landed straight onto Jon's outstretched hand.

"I don't need the likes of you to be concerned about me!" he snarled.

Jon was so baffled at uncharacteristic action that he didn't avoid it when Robb leapt forward and tackled him into the snow.

"I'm the heir of Winterfell! Not you!"

All of Robb's attacks were uncoordinated. His limbs were flinging around, trying to make contact with any part of Jon, full of blinded rage and with the sole purpose of causing pain.

Jon was trying to evade his brother. He had no intention of retaliating or defending himself.

Robb aimed a fist to his nose, but Jon easily caught his wrists and shoved him onto his back. He pressed his weight on top of Robb to make sure he couldn't stand up. They were both breathing harshly. "Enough now! We're both lost, can't you see?"

Robb slowly stopped struggling, the situation now dawning on him.

"Lost?" He glanced around, taking in the unfamiliar landscape, the ridge they just rolled down from, the trees surrounding them from the back and the darkness that obscured it, the moon no longer visible.

Seeing that Robb was finally calm rather than seething at the mouth, Jon got to his feet and wiped off bits of snow on his arms and knees.

Robb made to stand, but let out a yelp and keeled over, a hand flew to his calf.

"Robb!" Jon tried to put his arms around his brother but was pushed away.

"I'm fine," he said, gritting his teeth and attempting once more to get to stand upright. This time, he only wobbled a bit, before straightening his back and breathing out deeply. "I'm fine," he repeated, more to himself than Jon.

Jon didn't want to push it now that Robb was actually speaking normally to him. He'd leave it for now but kept it in mind for when they were no longer out in the open of nowhere. He couldn't interrogate his brother here.

"We need to find shelter before it gets dark." he took Robb's wrist, who allowed himself to be led without protest.

Jon figured it would be safer to go into the forest and look for someplace they could huddle up together, than continue to follow along the ridge that led to an open pathway of snow. It was too dark to try and return to Winterfell, and too dangerous to be out so late with no covering.

They kept close to each other, shoulders brushing together as they trekked through feet deep piles of snow. Neither spoke. Robb was stuck in his own thoughts, while Jon's head twisted to look to the left and right, then forwards, backwards and up, trying to catch a glimpse of anything that looked good enough as refuge, or anything threatening enough to flee from.

His hackles raised at a sound on their right, and his head shot to the right. It was only a squirrel. It paid no heed to them as it clutched an acorn in its hands.

That's when Jon spotted a tree. A very familiar looking tree.

In the middle of all the ash, oak and ironwood trees stood a lone weirwood. It was massive, and its blood red leaves stood out like a beacon.

Both made their way over by instinct, seeing a weirwood reminded them of the Godswood, and made the woods seem just a bit safer. It had been hollowed out enough that both of them could fit inside with little problem, as if it had been made just for the two of them. The inside was surprisingly dry, with no signs of any dampness from snow that might have made its way in. Jon took off his coat and laid it across the ground for them to sit on, then let Robb in first before getting in himself.

There were no branches or big leaves to cover the exit, so Jon faced his back towards it to block the outside. He sat cross legged, and felt it was now okay to give his full attention to what happened earlier.

He touched Robb's knee, intending to inspect the damage that had been done, but Robb jerked away. "Mind your own self," he said, but there was no fire in his words. Only weariness. It hurt Jon that Robb no longer looked at him with the same eyes as used to. Before, he would hang on Jon's every word and action, trying to emulate him in all ways, and Jon had felt proud and blissful at having his brother's admiration.

"It might get infected."

"Let it be," he said weakly.

"Come on, Robb. It's only me," his voice took on a pleading tone. "I promise I only want to help."

Robb opened his mouth, and Jon worried that more snarling would break out, but he only let out a shuddering breath and slumped down. He no longer possessed any drive to put up a fight. He was tired and hungry and sore.

Seeing his consent, Jon gently lifted the pant leg, careful not to snag the material on any broken skin that might be present.

His eyes widened at the sight. Red welts crisscrossed the skin on his calf. Dried blood still surrounded few of the wounds, displaying just how recent they were, while some were already scabbing over. From the top by his knees, down to his ankle, were numerous scars where deep lacerations had been inflicted.

Jon felt bile raise at the back of his throat. It felt painful just looking at the marks, how then must Robb feel who had to suffer from the pain itself. He knew these were not wounds from their fight or fall. They were from much earlier today, and most were even earlier, as shown by the blue-green colored skin and puckered white scarring.

He lowered down the pant leg and lifted the other one, with even more care than before now that he knew what to expect. The exact same wounds were on the right leg.

Jon sucked air through his mouth, then closed it again. Unsure of how to start. Just how long has this been going on? Months? Years? No, no he remembered bathing in the hot springs with Robb on the night of his eighth name day. He didn't see anything wrong back then. He definitely would have noticed. It started months ago then. It was months ago when Robb last joined him in the springs. Months ago, when Robb started to become less talkative. Was it back then? Why didn't he notice? Why didn't he ask what was bothering him? Why didn't he try harder to approach his brother? Because I was busy. Just as Robb became busier, Jon did too. He spent more time in the tiltyard working on his forms and practicing his terrible archery, begging the guards to spar with him, and sometimes even doing some accounting sums father gave him. So, while he noticed Robb was withdrawing, he didn't do anything until the moment he was blatantly ignored. A good brother would have asked the moment he sensed something was off. He didn't, because he was too busy playing around with a wooden sword. He should have paid more attention to what was happening, he should have known that Robb wouldn't just suddenly drift away without reason.

Jon couldn't find anything to say, so he put his arm around his brother and pulled him down to lay on the furs. Jon kept his arm on his shoulder, and Robb tensed at the action, but slowly relaxed. They faced each other, huddled together, lying as they did whenever they would share a bed. He could feel Robb's warm breath fanning his cheeks and see the trembling of his lower lip.

"I'm sorry," Robb said suddenly, his voice shaking. He shut his eyes, unable to face Jon for everything he'd done.

"It's not your fault," he said, sincerely meaning it. All his anger from his brother's actions and words now faded when he got a better understanding of what was really happening.

"It is. Everything is my fault," Robb curled into himself further, trying to push himself further into the tree bark as if doing so will make it swallow him up. Jon wouldn't allow him to. He kept a firm hold on his shoulder. "I made us get lost."

"No, you didn't," Jon shook his head to emphasize his point, though Robb still had his eyes closed. "You knew where you were until I came running after you. Then we fell down together because we were being dumb. It's both of our faults, or it's no one's fault."

"But I ran away from Winterfell."

"And I wanted to find you. No one forced me to look for you."

Robb sniffled. Jon wasn't sure if it was from the smell of the sapwood, or from holding back tears.

"I'm sorry for hitting you and spitting at you, and for calling you a bastard. I didn't mean it. It was rude and mean."

"I know you didn't mean it," He used the arm around Robb to reach into his curls and ran a hand through, hoping it conveyed his forgiveness. "And it was mean," he admitted. "I was a bit angry, but I forgive you."

"You shouldn't," he mumbled.

"I've forgiven you all the other times you made me mad. Like that time you broke my glass wolf, remember?"

"Aye," Robb gave a shaky laugh as he remembered when he broke his brother's prized glass wolf that was gifted to him by Lord Manderly from a merchant in Essos. He was trying to take it for himself and put it on his own windowsill, and it slipped from his palms when Jon entered the room and caught him red-handed. Jon was rightfully furious, but easily forgave him a few minutes later when he saw how mournful Robb looked. It was the same now. He could never stay mad at any siblings for long periods of time.

Seeing the mood around Robb lighten and return to something they had before, he decided now was a good time to ask about what he'd seen.

"Who did that to your legs?" he asked carefully so it wouldn't set his brother off again or make him retreat into a shell.

Robb hesitated.

Jon dug his fingers into Robb's scalp, lightly scratching as a way to comfort him. "Tell me."

"Mother," he replied softly.

"Lady Catelyn?" Jon flinched in surprise. He wasn't an idiot. He had his suspicions, and he'd witnessed the scene in the courtyard earlier that day. The look in Robb's eyes at Lady Catelyn's expression and his disappearance right after. It was obvious the two events were somehow connected, but he didn't expect this. Lady Catelyn may have been unfriendly and haughty, but she didn't seem like the type who would hurt her children. Especially not Robb, the heir, who was sweet and dedicated. It didn't make sense to Jon. "Why?"

"I deserve it."

"Did Lady Catelyn tell you that?" The responding nod was so slight that Jon would have missed it if he wasn't looking directly at his brother. "Why did she say you deserve it?"

"Because I'm no good. I can't beat you or Theon in a fight."

"That's because you're younger than us. I'm almost ten, and Theon is three-and-ten. You still have to turn six."

"It's not only that!" he shook his head, agitated. "Why can't I memorise properly or say my sums correctly? It must be because I'm stupid."

"You're not-"

"And you would like it if I was!" He burst out. "Because that would mean father would love you more than me! Because then you wouldn't have to be a bastard! Father would throw me away and make you his proper son."

"...Is that what your mother told you?"

"She says that … that father would prefer you, because you're older and better than me. That father never wanted to marry her, and only loved your mother. She says that you're only nice to me because you want to be Lord of Winterfell. She says both you and father want us to disappear, so your mother can come back, and father can make you heir," he sucked in a shuddering breath. It was the first time he was ever telling anyone what his mother said. Not even Sansa knew. She was too busy being good at her own lessons and singing about knights. Sometimes he wanted to ask her if mother told her such things too, but he would always back down like a coward before even saying anything. "I don't care if you want to be lord of Winterfell, or about stupid birthrights or if you want your mother to be here, but why does she say that you are going to kill me one day? I know it's not true, I know! But she tells me it's true every time! And I think, what if it is true?" he whispered the last part. It was his deepest shame. Thinking that Jon really would kill them one day so he could be father's only child, and father would make him Lord of Winterfell.

Jon was in a daze that was brought about by the confession. He knew there was no love lost between Lady Catelyn and himself, but to tell Robb that Jon wanted to kill him? Over a birthright? Is that why Robb had been avoiding him, because he believed it might happen one day? Worst yet, she dared to imply that their father wanted to get rid of Robb as well?

Suddenly he was furious. Not at Robb, who was young and still at the mercy of his mother, but at Catelyn Tully herself. How dare she?

"Aye, it's true" he said, and Robb's head shot up, eyes wide at what he thought was his brother admitting to wanting to kill him. "Lady Catelyn isn't my mother." And I'm glad she isn't. "She's yours and Sansa's and Arya's and Bran's. So it's true I'm a bastard with a different mother. My name is Snow, while yours is Stark, which means I can never be Lord of anything, but I know who I am. I am your older brother, and I don't want to be anyone else."

"You don't want to be heir?" he asked in a small voice. His brother was denying what his mother had been whispering in his ear since last year.

"Never; if it means hurting you, or our sisters, or Bran. We are in a weirwood right now. Remember father said that we can never lie before a weirwood because the gods would know? Let the gods strike me down if I do," he declared, "And what about father? Does that sound like father to you? Do you think father is someone like that?"

"No, never!" Robb vehemently denied.

"Aye, father would never. You know who father is, and you know who I am. Lady Catelyn is the only one who says such things. Does Sansa say so? Or Ser Rodrik? Or Maester Luwin? Or Old Nan? Or anyone else?"

"No," Robb said, and he knew it to be true. He knew them all, would speak to them every day and play with them; it was his mother he hardly knew.

"See," Jon squeezed his hand. "It's only her that says so. Everyone else says you're doing well. Maester Luwin even says you're his best student. And father, father always says how proud he is of you. Remember how he introduced you as his heir at last year's harvest feast?"

Robb nodded, remembering all the rowdy lords he'd met for the first time. Father said that one day they would be his lords.

"I made a promise to father that I would protect you. Even if father didn't tell me to, I still would because you're my brother, we're pack. I'll always take your side and always find you. The lone wolf dies…"

"The pack survives." his voice cracked, he finally moved away from trying to make himself disappear, and into brother's chest, where his head knocked against Jon's chin. "I'm sorry!"

Jon held him as he cried, and rubbed his back, occasionally saying reassuring words. Jon didn't know what to think about all that had just been revealed. For now, he'd comfort his brother and think about it later when they were safe again.

Jon's entire tunic was wet with tears and snot, but he didn't mind. It was clear Robb had been holding everything inside of himself, alone all this time, and Jon was more than happy to oblige.

He was glad Robb had told him instead of continuing as he was. His brother trusted him with what was bothering him all this time. It couldn't have been easy to tell Jon about his mother. It was half an hour later when Robb finally calmed down, his sobs breaking off into harsh breaths, then shudders.

"You can't tell father," he whispered, still clutching Jon's tunic tightly.

Jon hesitated, he both understood and didn't understand why Robb wouldn't want father to know. "I promise," he yielded in the end, because right now Robb had trusted him with his big secret. He wasn't going to argue that he should be telling more people.

He placed a chaste kiss on Robb's forehead. "Go to sleep. We'll go back to Winterfell tomorrow."

It didn't take long for Robb to fall asleep. He must have been burned out by today's events, and crying had worn him out.

Distantly, Jon heard wolves howling, thankfully they were nowhere near to their tree.

It wasn't the smart thing to do when he left Winterfell without any supplies of any kind, but his head had only been filled with thoughts of his brother (Robb being attacked by wolves or bears, Robb being killed by Wildlings, Robb being taken for ransom by bandits). Now they were truly lost with no food or water, which was not a good combination when paired with the outdoors.

At least he had managed to find Robb.

I will die before anything happens to him, Jon thought as his eyes fluttered close.

He dreamt he was an eagle. He was perched on top of a branch; watching, waiting. For what? Prey. It had been a while since he had last eaten. He had been forced to spend most of his time searching this place that had over hundreds of big sticks poking out from the ground, and he even wasn't allowed to go down unless he caught sight of movement. It was hard to do when there were so many things blocking his sight. No matter how good his eyes were, they couldn't look through objects. At least there weren't any white drops falling on him. It made it much harder for him to see. Searching for what though? He wasn't too sure, but he'd remember later.

Now was the time to eat.

And there it was. A big, fat trout. Swimming down the stream. He didn't waste time once he caught sight of it and went to pounce. He was just about to swoop in and capture his prize, when Jon awoke with a start.

He blinked several times and remembered where he was. His body ached a bit from yesterday's fall, but not to the point he couldn't move. He was once again thankful for all the snow.

Robb was drooling at the side of his mouth, which had run down to the furs, making the place where he had laid his head damp. Jon snorted; sure his brother would deny that he ever drooled.

He lightly shook Robb awake, eager to begin their journey early so they could find a proper path before the sun began to set once more. Robb awoke on the third shaking and straight away began to prepare himself without any grumbling.

Both knew they couldn't stay here long and wait for their father's men to find them. Predators, both animal or men, would find them first or they would lose energy fast from lack of water and food.

They had been thrown off the familiar course when he had chased after Robb, and there was no way for them to climb up the ridge from this side, but they could go around it and find a way to get back on the track.

Jon kept his eyes open for any rabbit they could eat, then remembered he did not even know how to start a fire from scratch, nor did he have a dagger or any sort of sharp object on him. The thought made him tighten his hold on his brother's hand. What would he protect them with?

Why didn't he carry a dagger or even a pocketknife on his person? Why didn't he know anything about surviving the woods -setting snares, identifying edible plants, making a fishing rig, starting a fire- even though he was of the North and regularly accompanied his father to go hunting? Why hadn't he taken a few minutes to go to the armory and take a sword, it was on the way past the Hunter's Gate anyway. It wouldn't have taken too much time to sneak in and out.

The deed was already done, and it was no use complaining now. He could only remember this lesson well for the next time. Not that he wanted there to be a next time.

They walked for the good part of the early morning. His legs were beginning to ache, and he was sure Robb felt worse than he did, but he never once uttered any complaints, and Jon as the eldest wouldn't allow himself to look weaker in front of any of his younger siblings.

When he felt Robb's hand shaking in his, he knew he had reached his limit, so Jon went down to one knee and showed his brother his back. "Get on."

"I can walk by myself!"

"You can," he said matter-of-factly. "But you're not your full self today. Let me carry you."

He opened his mouth to argue but closed it again. His legs really were stinging and the continuous friction from his clothes wasn't helping.

"I'm not that weaker than you," he mumbled as he got on his brother's back.

"I'm your older brother. You're supposed to be weaker than me."

The arms around his neck tightened but he said no more.

Robb was light, he wouldn't be surprised if he weighed the same as plump little Arya. It made his heart ache all the more for him. Just you wait, Tully, he inwardly swore.

His legs were protesting with every step, and his chest felt tight, but he continued trudging ahead. He kept his focus on the path before him, and his thoughts on Robb who still had a whole life ahead of him. It filled him with the determination he needed to keep moving forwards, and forwards. Don't stop even for a single moment. Because there was no time, because he might not want to move again once he laid to rest. Be strong for Robb. Get back to Winterfell.

An eagle circled above them; it took Jon a while to notice that he had been subconsciously following it. He cursed at his stupidity. He was supposed to be following along the slope, not chasing after some bird!

It was too late to change direction now; else they would lose all the ground they had already walked. Jon could only grit his teeth and continue to follow it, praying it was on its way to a stream or some other landmark. From there he would figure out what direction to go next. He only hoped they would be lucky enough to find another hollowed out tree before it got dark again.

"Robb!"

The sound caught his attention. Was it his imagination?

"Jon!"

No, there really was a voice calling out their names! Several voices, in fact.

Out from the tree line came three sniffer dogs, mounted men following close by behind them. Leading the search party was Farlen, Winterfell's kennel master.

Jon almost collapsed at the sight; the only thing keeping standing was the knowledge that he was carrying Robb.

We're safe.

One of the dogs sniffed at his heels, gave loud happy barks, and sat down on his haunches, tail wagging.

"My lords," Farlen greeted them with open relief. The entirety of Winterfell was in an uproar on the disappearance of the two, and they worried about a kidnapping. How else could the two young lords disappear so suddenly if there wasn't a person behind it? Earlier this morning while searching their designated area, it had been Wyl who had come across the signs of a struggle near a ridge and deduced that the young lords might have run away from their captors and rolled down the ridge. A guard had gone to Winterfell to report the findings and bring backup, while the three of them had taken a route that would bring them down below, hoping to catch up on the trail. It was then that the dogs began acting erratically, and they had been forced to follow.

"Farlen," Jon's voice was tight with relief and fatigue.

"Lord Robb…" Wyl asked worriedly, as he got down from his horse.

"He's okay, just tired. Neither of us were hurt."

He breathed out a sigh of relief. "I'll carry him."

Robb had fallen asleep while atop his brother and began squirming when he was suddenly moved to a much higher ground than before. "Jon!" he cried out in a panic, trying to fight off the supposed stranger.

"Young lord, it's me," he stopped when he recognised Wyl's voice. Abashed at his reaction, he didn't even say anything when the guard laid him to his chest. On any other day he would have protested at being treated in such a babying way.

Jon himself had to be lifted onto the front of the horse by the other guard. He could no longer feel his arms; they might as well have been removed alongside Robb. He didn't realize how his legs felt like jelly until he could finally rest them.

"Back to Winterfell," Farlen led the party in the direction they came from.

Jon was fatigued but couldn't fall asleep until he saw the walls of Winterfell with his own eyes. They had not been riding for that long, when he caught sight of the tall stone towers. He realized that the distance between the weirwood where they slept in, and where the search party found them, and Winterfell itself, wasn't that long. If he continued walking, he might have reached the castle during the night. Carrying Robb while walking must have made the journey much longer than it needed be.

The eagle was still circling above them and followed them all the way to Winterfell. It had been going in the right direction, after all. Jon thought it must belong to someone in the castle or from Winter town.

"The young lords have been found!" Farlen called out once they entered through the portcullis. All activity in the yard stopped as everyone looked to the children who sat in front of the guards.

"Get lord Stark!" One of the guards was the first to move. "He's with the first team preparing to ride out the North Gate to the Kingsroad. Quickly!"

"The young lords have been found!"

"Blankets and fire!" "Warm up the soup!" "Where are their clothes?" "Get the Maester!" The castle was once more a flurry of activity.

The lord of Winterfell appeared just as they were led to the Great Keep where the infirmary, along with their bedchambers were located. He seemed to have aged overnight. His hair wasn't as tidy as it usually was, and he still wore the same clothes he wore the day before.

"Father!" They both called out when they caught sight of their father. They were barely being held upright up their escorts, but somehow found the strength to meet their father halfway. Their father embraced them and held on desperately, without a care of the gazes on them.

"Thank the gods," father's voice was thick with emotion. "Thank the gods!" He briefly pulled away to scan over them for any visible injuries. "You're both unhurt?"

"Aye," Robb answered, tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry, father. It was me. I-"

"Hush now, we'll talk about it later," father wiped his face. "Where's Maester Luwin?"

"Someone already went to fetch, m'Lord."

"Let's get them to infirmary."

When they entered the Keep, in the corner waiting, stood Lady Stoneheart herself, her ever-scornful eyes taking in the scene. She didn't appear to be relieved at her son being found or distressed at him spending the night in the dangerous woods. She didn't even approach them to see if he was injured in some way. She simply watched.

A coldness swept over him as he recalled everything his brother said.

I know what you are, he wanted to tell her. I know what you have done.

Robb spotted her as well, and cringed away from her direction, pushing himself further into father's embrace. Father noticed his reaction, but assumed it was because the child was still feeling upset from being lost in the woods. Jon wanted to charge up to his father and tell him the real reason was standing right there inside their castle, but he had promised inside a weirwood tree that he wouldn't.

He gazed at her from the corner of his eyes as they were carried away.

After being checked for injuries and given the 'okay', submerged in a warm bath, and eating more than their stomachs could bear, father carried them both into his chambers, holding them firmly as if they were still babes rather than their current ages, and put them on his bed. Arya was already there, waiting for them, and pounced onto them the moment they were seated. Even the little lady Sansa was there, with red eyes and cheeks, that showed just how worried she was when her two brothers had gone missing.

"You play without me!" Arya punched her small fist into Jon's stomach. She was blissfully unaware that they were missing in the woods since last night. "We suppose to play in morning."

"Sorry," Jon said, catching her fist when it went in for another gut blow. "I'll play with you all day tomorrow. I promise."

"Let your brothers rest now, Arya," father said, taking off his outer layers. "They've had a long day."

"Everything is okay now?" Sansa asked, looking between Jon and Robb, her hands were clasped together as if in prayer.

"Aye," Jon answered, "Everything will be okay."

Father got under the covers beside them and lifted Arya to lay across his chest so she couldn't disturb them any longer. He blew out the candle, leaving the room in total darkness. The hearth was unlit, as they usually ended up getting overheated whenever they all shared a bed. Sansa slept in the middle next to father and Arya, while Robb laid between her and Jon.

Soon enough, father's snores filled the chambers. He'd spent the entire night frantically riding out along Winter Town, then parts of the Wolfswood, and then prepared to take the journey along the Kingsroad to Deepwood Motte, hoping to search the Eastern parts of the woods and meet up with the Glovers who Maester Luwin already sent ravens to. It might have been a bit hasty of him to enlist the Glovers, Cerwyns and Tallharts to help with the search when they'd only disappeared that night, but Eddard thought he'd lost both of his eldest sons and wasn't taking any chances. Maester Luwin would now have to deal with sending more ravens to call off the search and apologize for any inconveniences caused.

Jon was exhausted, but thoughts of Robb and Catelyn Tully kept him awake.

Never had he thought himself capable of such hatred as what he was feeling.

He had always been ready to forgive the way Lady Catelyn treated him. It was not her fault after all. It was father who had dishonored her and who had brought proof of his dishonor before her eyes. This, however, changed everything.

There will be seven hells for you, Catelyn Tully.

***Line Break***

Jon Snow's dark eyes watched Catelyn Tully from across the courtyard. There was a slight limp in her walk, one that wasn't noticed by any.

Except for a single bastard.

Any other time even his sharp eyes might not have noticed, for Lady Stoneheart carried herself with a commendable grace despite any discomfort. If he had not been the cause of her affliction, he would not have been looking for the signs.

It started some time ago, when the noise of the lost-and-found incident died down, Jon had tasked himself with observing the interactions between mother and son. The more he watched; the more wroth he became. How could he not have noticed before? The stares, the pinches she gave when she thought no one was looking, dragging him into corners for a few harsh whispers, and holding him in her room for hours doing and saying things only the two would know. The worst, he thought, besides the caning, was deliberately withholding meals as a form of punishment. Didn't she know that growing children needed to eat every day? Especially Robb who had morning and afternoon sword training, then two classes with Maester Luwin, and another with Ser Royce, all in a single day.

She was damning her own son to poor health.

To further his loathing, he discovered that it was not just Robb she subjected to such maltreatment; Lady Catelyn wasn't fond of Arya either. Thankfully (was it?) that dislike manifested in her ignoring Arya's entire existence. Not even a glance was spared in her direction on a normal day, and when she did look, it was filled with distaste.

Sometimes she would give Sansa a look that would make the girl sit straighter, but that was all. With Bran she was more than pleasant. He was the only one Jon was sure of that the lady held no ill-temper towards.

The entire thing made him mad with enmity. Like a fire was lit inside of him; when he laid sight on her he felt his blood boiling. It threatened to leak outwards and devour up the shrew and just be done with it.

"You can't tell father."

The promise was the chains that held him back.

The morning after, Robb told father that no, they hadn't been kidnapped. He was angry at losing the spar with Jon and ran away into the Wolfswood. He got lost and Jon found him, but then they both ended up getting lost and spending the night in a weirwood tree. Farlen found them the next afternoon. He never mentioned anything about Lady Catelyn or the beatings. Jon, not wanting to call his brother out, went along with the story.

Jon sorely wanted to tell father and have the Cold Fish sent away far away from them all, but he'd promised not to say anything, and Robb would suspect him even if he told father not to say who it was that informed him. He wouldn't break the sacred trust between brothers. No, father would have to find out on his own. Or when one of the servants noticed and built the courage to mention it.

Jon had taken note that some of the servants seemed to know, or suspect, but thought better of being the ones to denounce her. Like Maester Luwin, who would look at Robb with a perceptive gaze, but held his silence. Jyana, who fluttered around in the background, sometimes wringing her hands to the point that the skin would redden. Ser Royce who would frown in her direction. Allison, Lady Catelyn's handmaiden. Milly, the headmaid. Ursa, Sansa's nursemaid. Gage, the cook, who gave the lady skew looks from time to time.

It was not their place to accuse the Lady of Winterfell of anything. Especially not one that had ties to both the Riverlands and the Vale. What were they accusing her of? Being too strict with the young lord? Lots of parents were strict with their children. Was that not her right as his mother to shape him for his future? Even if they did bring it up, would the young lord choose their side over his own mother's? If he denied it they could end up having a fate worse than being sacked.

Jon resented it, but he understood them turning a blind eye. They weren't in a position to do anything. Just as a bastard like himself couldn't accuse a noble lady of anything.

It was times like this that he was reminded of and hated his status.

But being a bastard of Lord Stark also gave him a certain freedom that others did not have.

He knew father and Lady Catelyn had a formal relationship; neither had ever warmed up to the other. He knew Lady Catelyn had immense pride, and would never look weak in front of anyone, least of all those beneath her. He knew Lady Catelyn would not run to father if, say, a servant got it in their heads that they would enjoy a laugh at her expense. She would quietly investigate it herself, confront the perpetrator, and then take the evidence to Lord Stark to get rid of the servant.

So when Lady Catelyn was overseeing Robb's lessons in the library, like she sometimes did, he made sure there wasn't anyone present in the family wing and snuck into her room. He took out the needles he had borrowed from the seamstress and strategically placed a couple in each of her silk slippers - especially the ones she enjoyed wearing inside the Keep. When he left, he made sure nothing was out of place.

The next day, Lady Catelyn did not show up to break her fast, which was not unusual. The lady regularly ate in her own chambers, and rarely showed up for shared meals. Father did not ask after her, and neither did his siblings.

Robb was at ease; taking his time to savor the cold fruit soup a servant had given him. He noticed that it wasn't on the tables, it must have been made for him specifically then. Jon gave him a soft smile when he was offered and shook his head. "It's all yours, little brother." Robb looked at him strangely, for he knew it was a favorite to them both. He reluctantly took the rest when Robb insisted.

He only saw her three days later at supper. She shifted uncomfortably, her eyes darting around with anger and suspicion. He felt the side of his lip lift in a sneer, which he quickly stuffed full of roasted onion.

This is only the beginning, my lady.

He did not feel the slightest bit of remorse. For he was a bastard, and bastards were vile creatures.


[1] The Wolfswood is right next to Winterfell and is pretty huge. Weirwoods are occasionally found isolated or in pairs [A Game of Thrones, Chapter 48, Jon VI] so finding a Weirwood tree to sleep in shouldn't be too strange.

Author Notes: YEESH! Can I just say how hard it is to write about physical abuse? Super uncomfortable. I don't know how other writers can do it.

This is a long chapter, and can you believe I originally intended it to be even longer? It's ridiculous for a prelude to be more than 30 pages, so I moved those parts over to Robb's chapter.

It might seem a bit OOC for Jon to lash out at Robb for calling him a bastard, but this Jon grew up openly loved and accepted by his father and siblings, more so than he ever was in canon. He's never been pushed into cowering in corners by Lady Catelyn, nor is he compared to a Robb who is the same age as he is. Canon Jon probably would have sulked in his room or drowned himself in angst or something. This Jon has a clear role he's been given since birth; that of eldest brother and protector, and he is secure in his place within the household. As a result, he still retains his baser personality, but with more confidence. It's also canon (at least in the books) that he has a sort of darkness within him, so I tuned into that when he beat Robb, then when he took 'revenge' on Catelyn.

I'm currently watching Sansa vids to prepare for the upcoming Sansa chap which comes after Robb's, and I plan on reading the beginning parts of the books because her story arc is pushed forward due to her age and can I just say... it's kind of hard to like her. I'm starting to think that a lot of the Fics I read are Sansa propaganda. Not that I particularly liked her in the show either, but I thought that was just D&D giving her that sort of character.