Thank you to everyone who reviews!

I've got a lot of questions about why the Brother of the Night's Watch killed Jon, and I messaged a few people about it, but I'm going to explain it here as well. If you all remember, Donal Noye sent Robb a letter saying that they believed Jon and Ghost had killed the Halfhand and was now a traitor. If he was telling a king through letter, I'm pretty sure he was telling his brothers on the Wall. And so there was the expectation created that Jon would be beheaded when he got back to the Wall as that was what happened to traitors- but Jon wasn't killed. Instead, he was pretty much pardoned for being a traitor (even though he wasn't a traitor, I doubt anyone was explaining this to any of the Brothers on the Wall, at least not yet) and sent of South where all of the Brothers would rather be. They expected him to be punished but he was rewarded instead- and this made a few of them mad enough to kill him.

And yes, as many have pointed out, this does cut very close to cannon. But I'm laying the foundation for a lot of big differences to come, and that takes time. So right now things are happening similar, but they won't be for much longer.

I hope this makes sense! Feel free to message me if you still have questions, but that is what I had in mind when I was writing it. And thank you to all who review!

CHAPTER 12: A Trick of the Eyes

"I'm Jon Snow of Winterfell!" Jon called hoarsely, steering his horse to a rough stop in front of guards that didn't move. They were in Tully blue and red. This was Riverrun, home of the Tully's, so he supposed that was all well and good. Both men looked at him blankly, unimpressed. "Let me pass!"

Their eyes slid from him to the cloaked boy on the horse with him. Bran tightened his hold on Jon in fear. Then the guards looked to Aemon with a smaller cloaked boy on his lap with suspicion. They stared especially hard at Jynessa the Red on the third horse behind them, but she didn't volunteer any information.

"Who 're they?"

Jon adopted a look of mocking surprise. "Why Robb! I didn't see you there! How terribly you've aged, brother."

"Huh?"

"You're not the king," Jon sighed, making his meaning plainer. "I'll answer to the king. Not you. Stand aside, Ser."

The man scowled. "I can't let unknowns into Riverrun. M'lord."

"Fetch the king then."

The man scowled harder. "Look. You're not getting in until I see who's under them cloaks, m'lord. And I'm not bothering His Grace with the likes of you."

"Lady Catelyn, then. Bring her to me."

The man wavered.

"Do it," Jon said in the strongest voice he could muster. "Do it now."

The man didn't take his eyes off Jon but flicked his hand behind him at the other guard, who scurried off through the gates. Jon would have preferred Robb, and he didn't know how Lady Catelyn, who had no love for him, would receive him. Soon enough, the man returned with a woman Jon recognized in tow.

"Lady Stark," Jon said and nodded to her, trying to conceal his nervousness at the sight of her.

"Jon Snow," she greeted.

Did he imagine it? Did she look relived to see him? No, it must just be a trick of the eyes. Her face had changed in the time since he had last seen her at Winterfell, over half a year ago. It was lined where before it had been smooth. There were dark circles under her eyes, and they were wide and exhausted when she took him in.

Lady Stark rounded to the guards. "What is the meaning of this? Why was he not brought to my son at once?"

They quailed under her glare. "I- my lady, he is traveling with unknown people, we could hardly let them in!"

Lady Catelyn looked for herself as the man pointed indignantly. Her eyes narrowed, but Jon implored her with his eyes not to ask him to reveal them here.

"I need to speak to you alone, my lady," he said trying to convey urgency with his voice and eyes. "You and Robb. Please."

A moment of scrutinization, then she turned matter-of-factly to the guards and snapped, "Let them pass immediately."

Jon rode through the guards, Aemon and the red priestess following. Jon dismounted gingerly, arms and torso aching while Lady Catelyn waved over some nearby men.

"Take their horses to the stables," she commanded them and looked at Jon. He wasn't sure what was in her gaze, and avoided it.

Jon left Bran on their horse for a moment, murmuring for him to keep a firm grip on the horse. "Don't fall off, I'll be back in a moment. And keep your hood down," he warned in a whisper before going to Aemon.

Aemon was old and the journey had cost him greatly. Jon helped the man down gently, first taking the small bundle in his arms and handing him to Jynessa reluctantly. Jon had cautioned both children sternly not to reveal themselves or say anything until they were alone, and Jon said it was alright. Jynessa bore the weight of the four-year-old easily and tucked Rickon's face into her shoulder and stared at the castle ahead of them.

Jon left Aemon leaning gingerly on his horse while he collected Bran. He carried Bran in his arms carefully, hating how light the child was. He looked to Lady Stark and then headed to Aemon, adjusting Bran as he did.

"Follow me," Lady Catelyn said without comment on his guests. He was grateful she hadn't realized it was Bran in his arms as he had thought she might when Jon carried him. He supposed Bran had grown quite a lot since she'd last seen him. She led them to the castle as their horses were led away.

Aemon badly needed support and leaned heavily on Jon. Jon held back a wince, sore in his leg and body and arms. Bran was heavy and so was Aemon. He stood tall anyway. Exhaustion reared up in him, but he pushed it down. He would give in soon (he wasn't sure how long he could hold it off for anyway) but he would see them inside first.

"We must speak alone, my lady," Jon said firmly, slightly breathless. "Alone. It's urgent."

If Lady Catelyn found his insistence odd, she didn't say anything. She merely nodded. She led them into and then through the castle, finally bringing them to an empty room with a long table in it.

"I'll fetch Robb," she said and then was gone. The door shut sharply.

"Keep your cloaks up, both of you, and don't lower them until I say, no matter what your mother or Robb say," Jon said as he lowered Bran to a chair and helped Aemon into a seat. "You can sit though."

A few minutes later Robb burst into the room. Jon rose quickly and they embraced tightly. There was a sudden lump in his throat, and it throbbed there, and in his eyes, as well.

"Jon," said Robb into his shoulder. "I've missed you."

"And I you."

They pulled away and Jon took the moment to study Robb as Robb studied him.

"What happened to your face?" Robb asked, looking concerned as he pointed to the long scratch that started below Jon's left eye and trailed down to his jaw.

Jon smiled grimly. "We were fallen upon by a group of Wildlings on the way here."

Thenns, even worse. And they had a few reasons to hate Jon. Jon had won though, and they had broken and fled when he'd stabbed their Magnar through the eye. Styr had died hard, but he had died.

Robb's eyes tightened. "Are you alright, brother?"

"Aye." Although he and Ygritte being the two of the few fighters of their large party had been a bit of a struggle. The fight had been a near thing. Thinking of Ygritte brought a fresh wave of sorrow to his heart and a grimace to his face. He said nothing of her or Osha though, as he had sworn.

"Have… have you heard of Bran and Rickon?" Robb asked in a strained voice. He suddenly dropped his eyes, looking young despite the crown on his head.

"Robb, I have to tell you-"

"It was Theon that did it. I'll kill it for him, I swear. I swear it!"

"Robb, are we going to be interrupted?" Jon said urgently. He said nothing yet of Bran and Rickon. He had to be sure. He needed to be sure.

Robb narrowed his eyes slightly. "No."

"Are you absolutely sure?"

Lady Catelyn spoke now. "Yes, we're sure. No one will interrupt. Who are these people?"

"I'm Aemon of House Targaryen," said Aemon using his surname for the first time since becoming a maester however many years ago.

"Can we be overheard?" Jon persisted over their questions about Aemon.

"No." Robb looked concerned now. "Jon what is it? Who are these people? Why have you brought them? I don't understand."

Jon swallowed once, then turned to the table where Bran and Rickon sat. "I'll just show you. Don't look so grim, Robb. It's good news." He smiled at Robb then turned to Bran and Rickon. "Go ahead," he told them.

Bran lowered his cloak's hood at once and stared at his mother with wide eyes. "Mother," he croaked. "Robb. It's me, Brandon. Please say you recognize me!"

Rickon jumped to his feet and ripped away his own hood as soon as Jon gave the word. He ran to Robb first, and Jon wondered if Lady Catelyn had been away from him for too long.

"Rickon!" Robb was white faced as he stared at the child around his knees. He looked to Jon, his face slack with shock. "H-How can this be? I—I… Jon?"

"I found them," Jon said. "Bran when I was traveling with some wildlings south of the Wall. Summer saved my life. I found Bran later the next day, I think. Rickon, we found when traveling to Riverrun in the care of Osha, that woman of the free folk. It was just a few days ago. Summer and Shaggy Dog I left in the forest. I'll bring them in tonight under the cover of darkness. Don't you understand, Robb? At Winterfell, Theon burned two other children in their place when he couldn't find them. When they fled Winterfell. And Robb they… they must remain dead to the world until this is over, do you understand me? Robb? It's too dangerous, Theon will find them, Robb, Lady Stark. No one can know."

"Yes," Robb agreed hoarsely. He pulled Rickon into his arms and held the young child close to him. Tears were trickling down his face. "Yes, they shall not. Jon, I-"

Jon smiled at him, although he was sure it was more of a grimace. He was dizzy and exhausted. He sank into a seat and breathed deeply for a few moments.

"Are you alright, Jon Snow?" Jynessa asked him, concerned.

Jon glared at her. She had picked up using his full name from being around Ygritte for the past few days. He resented her for it. And he resented her for hauling him back to life, anyway. Dying had been horrible, but the resurrection had been worse.

"Fine," he said gruffly.

Robb looked to his mother, then Rickon again. He seemed to be in an almost shock-like state. But if Robb was in shock, his mother was far worse. Jon stared at her as she drew close to her son sitting at the table.

"Brandon," she whispered. Her face was bloodless, and eyes seemed unnaturally large in her head. Tears dripped down her face as realization of what she was seeing struck her. She took her son in her arms, and both cried.

Jon looked away at the intimate scene and tried to catch his breath. Exhaustion again bore down on him. He ached.

It was a few minutes later when they all sat down at the table. It was a few minutes more for Bran and Rickon to explain everything. Jon didn't listen closely, and instead leaned forward in his chair and rested his head on a hand and his eyes in darkness.

"Jon are you okay?" Robb's eyes were narrowed as he took in his brother. Jon was pale, and much thinner than Robb remembered. The slightly inflamed red cut down his face made him look dangerous, but it was negated by his incredibly gaunt appearance. Seeing him hunched over the table with eyes closed scared Robb.

"I'm fine, Robb," Jon said breathlessly. He didn't open his eyes.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes-"

"You must show them, Jon Snow," urged the woman Robb recognized as the red priestess he had sent to the Wall. He didn't recall her name just now. "They must know."

Robb didn't know what she was talking about, but Jon seemed to. He threw her an irritated, sullen glare Robb recognized from their childhood.

"No," was his simple reply.

"You must," she urged.

Robb expected Jon to fight harder, but he just sighed and put his head in his hands on the table again. He made no reply. Seeing Jon as drawn and sickly as he seemed now scared Robb worse than before, though he would never admit it.

"You must," she said again. "They must know what you have gone through to be here, Jon Snow. They need to."

"I don't see why." Jon didn't raise his head from his hands and his voice was muffled.

Jynessa only stared at him. In the silence, Jon raised his head and looked at her. Something he saw on her face must have convinced him. He nodded tersely.

"Fine," Jon said shortly and sat back in his chair. Delivering his brothers to Riverrun seemed to have taken everything out of him. Jon put his hands to his leather jerkin and unbuttoned it slowly.

Robb saw his hands were shaking and couldn't help but stare at them. "You need a maester."

"I've seen a maester. Aemon is a maester." Jon kept his eyes closed, looking worse the more Robb looked at him. "I'm just… tired."

The red priestess stood gracefully and began to help him unbutton it. Then she pulled the shirt he wore underneath off.

Robb was shocked Jon allowed her to touch him. Jon had been ridiculously shy around others, especially women when they were young. And the red priestess was surpassingly pretty, although there was an element of strangeness that disturbed him, Robb thought.

When Jon was bare-chested and sitting back in the chair, breathing heavy, Robb looked despite himself at Jon's chest.

Robb let out a wordless shout. At the same time, he leapt to his feet and staggered back, staring in horror.

"J-Jon," he stuttered. Jon's torso was covered in fresh, deep wounds. They dotted his stomach… and there was one directly over his heart. But no, surely Robb's eyes were deceiving him. That was all this was— a trick of the eyes.

Lady Catelyn, who hadn't torn her eyes from Bran's face, looked at Jon at the sound of her son's horrified voice. Her face paled further, and she had no words.

Jon seemed to summon some strength to him. He stood up and put his shirt on roughly.

"Jon… how?" Robb's voice was nearly a whisper. He staggered to a seat himself, suddenly fearing his legs would give out.

Jon took the question with humor and smiled wryly. "My, uh, brothers, didn't take it well when I came back to the Wall. I was half a Wildling to most, or a deserter at the least, and, even worse I was soon to be relieved of my duty on the Wall. They would have sooner seen me relieved of a head. And well… resentment like that is… it's no good."

"They… you should be dead, Jon." Robb's voice was still a horrible, strangled whisper he didn't recognize. A thin shirt covered the wound, but Robb couldn't tear his eyes from Jon's heart.

"They killed me. I was dead. I was dead."

"How?" Lady Catelyn's whisper was barely audible, and she hadn't taken her hands off Bran and Rickon's faces. Robb hadn't noticed putting Rickon down, and he hadn't noticed him going to their mother. She stared at Jon's wounds between her children's heads.

Jon laughed oddly, once, then twice. "Jynessa the Red. Ask her." There was a horrible, dry quality to his voice that Robb hated. Jon was angry, and a blend of something else, too.

Robb looked to the red priestess, startled to see her smiling brightly. She had a possessive hand on Jon's shoulder, and she moved it with him as he slumped back down into the chair limply. He didn't seem to notice her hand.

"What did you do?" Robb asked. He couldn't help his voice being breathless and hushed. His eyes felt dry and irritated. He'd had them wide open.

"I did nothing. The Lord of Light acted through me to bring his servant Jon Snow back."

"I'm no servant to your god," Jon said quietly. He opened his eyes but didn't look at Robb or Lady Catelyn. He crossed his arms over his heart and stomach defensively.

She seemed unconcerned by his protest. "It was just a simple ceremony, and life was restored where once there was only death."

A strange look passed over Jon's face for a moment. Robb shivered to see it. "How long was I dead for? I meant to ask…"

"Well," Jynessa turned her head to the side in thought. "You were murdered in the evening, and I didn't know until the morning, late morning at that… Perhaps 16 hours. More, even."

Jon made an odd sound in the back of his throat. Robb stumbled shakily to sit next to him and took his brother's arm. Jynessa didn't move.

"Are you going to be ill again, Jon Snow?" she asked lightly.

"No. I'm fine."

"You do look terrible, do you need-?" Robb broke off, startled at the smile on Jon's face.

"No, no, I'm fine, Robb. Just… Just tired. Jynessa says I will be tired for a few days, more since I exerted myself fighting wildlings and riding hard, but I will be fine. Just… I'm so tired."

"I've had quarters made for you. I'll show you to them. We can go now."

"No, no, Robb, sit, we must speak. Please. I would tell you everything tonight."

Robb hadn't noticed he had risen. But Robb didn't sit. He wanted to speak to Jon… But Jon looked so ill. "At least allow me to call food."

Jon thought for a moment, then nodded reluctantly. "But no one… no one can see Bran or Rickon. They'll be killed, Robb. No one can know. Even within this castle."

"You've already said, Jon. I swear only our family will know. Only us. I'll get it myself. I'll go now."

Jon's face twitched slightly when Robb said family, but he just nodded.

"I'll be right back," Robb said and swept from the room. In the hallway with the door shut firmly, he glared at the guards. "No one is to enter this room," he barked to them. "No one or I'll have you both hanged. No one but me. Understood?"

"Yes, Your Grace," they both said, nearly in unison. Robb took a moment more to glare at them before he stalked away.

Robb's head was spinning. He walked without looking to the kitchen and walked back laden with food piled high on a tray. His mind kept flashing back to Jon's torso, the exhaustion on his face… it was no wonder he'd brought a maester with him. It was a miracle he hadn't died on the way here. Robb's mind flashed to the long cut down his face and wondered if he nearly had. Or, hell, if he had. With Jynessa the Red there to haul him back… Robb felt almost sick, and at the potent smell of the food he was holding his stomach threatened to rebel.

"No one entered?" he asked sharply of the guards.

"No one, Your Grace," said one of the guards moving to open the door for him.

"Leave it," snapped Robb. "Keep your eyes on the hallway!" He opened the heavy door carefully and shut it quickly behind him. Jon seemed to come alive at the smell of the stew as Robb handed him a bowl, and he fell on it gratefully. He offered his mother a bowl, but she shook her head. Her face was brighter than he had ever seen it and the slight smile was unshakable from her face. His newly returned brothers and Aemon excepted bowls. Jynessa waved hers away. Robb still felt too ill to eat.

"It's a miracle, Robb," Lady Catelyn said shakily. She was still whispering. "Bran and Rickon! Alive!"

That reality had not yet hit home within him, Robb knew. "Yes, yes, it is Mother. Thank you, Jon. Thank you."

Jon's only answer was a wave of his hand. He was eating hurriedly. Robb put another bowl next to him and Jon nodded his thanks.

"They're my brothers too, Robb," Jon said, but he paled as he said it and he dropped his gaze. "Will you have Aemon released from his vows of the Night's Watch? I need him."

Robb would have agreed to anything. "Yes. Of course."

"I need to send a letter, too. Soon. Not now."

"Of course."

Jon looked at him gravely then before dropping his gaze again. "I need to speak to you, as well, Robb. All of you."

"About what?" Robb was puzzled by the grim look on Jon's face. "You didn't die twice, did you?" He tried to laugh.

Jon smiled wanly. "No, just the once. Believe me, it was enough."

"Then about what?" Robb kept his voice light. There was nothing Jon could tell him that would change Robb's opinion of him, nothing. Especially since he had returned Brandon and Rickon to them. To his mother.

Jon hesitated a long moment, staring into the bowl of stew he no longer ate. Before he'd simply seemed exhausted, but now Robb wondered if he was going to be sick.

At last, Jon said, "About... about my mother. And about my father."

A long silence heralded his words.

Robb recovered first. "You… Father told you about your mother?"

"Yes." Jon still didn't look at him.

"Who was she, then?" Robb was grinning, happy and relieved for his brother. Jon had wanted, needed, to know his entire life. And now he did.

Before Jon answered Lady Catelyn broke in, slightly confused. "Your father? What is this about Ned?"

Jon took a long moment to answer. He held his spoon idly in his hand and stared at his soup, no longer eating. "Ned was not my father."

Robb wasn't aware that he stumbled back until he knocked a chair over behind him. Jon jumped at the noise, but Robb hardly heard it.

"What do you mean?" he asked. But his mind was casting back to the conversation he'd had with his mother about Jon's parentage. Understanding hit home. "You mean… was it Uncle Brandon?"

Jon looked confused. "No. It— no."

"I don't… Jon, I don't understand."

Jon didn't look at him again. "I asked—I asked Ned before he left for King's Landing and before I left for the Wall." He took a moment and swallowed. He had stopped eating, and now looked sort of sick. He'd recovered much of strength, but still seemed weak. Delicate, even, and that was not a word Robb had ever associated with Jon before today. "No… my father was not Brandon… but let us speak first of my mother."

"Was she Ashara Dayne?"

"Wrong again, Robb," he said with a small smile. "No, my mother… Well… I don't know where to start. I'm trying to remember how Ned explained it to me… but perhaps… You all have to know that…" He sighed angrily, looking frustratedly at his hands. A moment passed, before he started again, voice forcedly even, "I was born in Dorne. So strictly speaking, I should be a Sand not a Snow…but that doesn't matter because… my parents were married. I have a paper Ned gave me to prove it. My mother gave it to him, before she died."

Robb blinked once. He looked to his mother, who was staring at Jon, rapt and hanging off his words.

Jon continued, "I… they weren't forcedly married either. That… Ned told me. He put his first wife aside, and married—married my mother… That's… important. To me."

"It's okay, Jon," said Robb, alarmed by the exhaustion and desperation in his brother's voice. "Just tell us, we'll understand. You're our family, Jon, no matter what."

"I—I," Jon looked sicker than ever. He looked to the old, white-haired maester beseechingly and said, "Aemon, please."

"If you'd like," the man said. He took up the explanation for Jon. "Robert's Rebellion was built on a lie. Prince Rhaegar had agreed to put aside his first wife, and to marry Lyanna Stark. The woman was not kidnapped. She was not raped. Jon has papers to prove it, as he said. Jon is the legitimate son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. And his true name is Jaeherys Targaryen, the third of his name."

He seemed oblivious—was oblivious- to the stares of Robb and Lady Catelyn. Bran and Rickon seemed to know already, and Jynessa was only studying Jon in silence.

"Would you like me to tell them the rest, Jon?" The maester was impassive.

"Yes." Jon had buried his face in his hands. Robb stared at him, speechless, but Jon wouldn't look at him. He didn't look at any of them.

Aemon took up the story again. "Jon told me what Lord Eddard told him. While Robert proceeded to King's Landing and Rhaegar fell on the Trident, Lord Eddard went to Dorne. There he found his sister, protected by Ser Arthur Dayne and others of the Kingsguard. They fought, and Lord Eddard won. He went to his sister and held her as she died. He told Robert she died of a fever… and she did. A birthing fever. Lord Eddard knew Robert would kill the child as Tywin Lannister had Rhaegar's other two children killed."

Aemon was silent for a moment, an odd expression on his face… Robb saw after a moment that the old blind man was furious. Robb thought to the deaths of Rhaegar's children… Jon's half siblings and he felt odd to think of their fates. A fate Jon had almost shared.

The maester continued, "He had promised his sister, his dying sister, that he would protect her son with his life. So, he took the child North with him and claimed him as his own son. The child was named Jaeherys Targaryen for his great grandfather by his parents… but Lord Eddard gave him another name, the better to hide him."

Robb saw there were tears coursing down Aemon's face. Robb realized with a jolt that all the man's family were dead… all but Jon.

"He was raised as a bastard, but he is the trueborn, rightful heir to-"

"Aemon," Jon interrupted gently, and the man broke off, sighing. "Thank you."

"You must claim your place, Jon," Aemon urged. "You must wage war for your brother and sister and father and deliver justice unto Tywin."

"I mean to do that, Aemon." Jon's voice was light, although his face had darkened at the mention of his brother and sister.

Robb sank into a chair. Too much had happened in the past few hours. Jon was looking at him, he realized. When Robb met his eyes, he saw with a jolt that Jon was looking at him with something close to fear.

He rushed to assure him, "Jon this… this changes nothing between you and I. You are my brother. You will always be my brother."

Jon sagged with relief. "Thank you, Robb. For saying that. I feel the same."

Now that everything had been discussed that needed to be, Jon felt exhaustion press hard on him. His hands shook, and his wounds ached.

He was about to say something when Robb quickly said, "Perhaps we should retire?"

"Yes, Your Grace," Jon smirked slightly, "That would be good."

Robb reddened. "Don't call me that when we're alone, Jon, please."

"As you command, my king."

Robb and Jon laughed quietly, and the tension was broken.

"We will speak more on the morrow. Jon, I'll show you to the chambers I've had arranged. Maester Aemon and my lady Jynessa you'd best come as well. Bran and Rickon I'll see to in private later."

Jynessa moved to help Jon rise but he waved her off roughly and went, limpingly, to help Aemon.

"Allow me," Robb said quickly and gently helped the old man to rise. Jon's mouth twisted slightly but he nodded. And as they left, he allowed Jynessa the Red to help him, Robb noticed. He wondered what had happened to Jon's leg but didn't ask. There would be time for that tomorrow. And Robb could only think now as he watched them standing together that he rather disliked this red priestess from Asshai.

Jon had chambers next to Robb's, and Robb quickly arranged for the room next closest to be prepared for the maester. He suspected Jon would want to be close to him. This was confirmed when Jon shot him a grateful look as he gave the command. He'd have Bran and Rickon put in the empty rooms that were connected to his own, he thought. Jeyne would have to be sworn to secrecy, but that would be no problem.

"Do you need anything, Jon?" Robb asked after they settled Maester Aemon. There were fresh clothes in the room, and everything else Jon might need. But still, Robb was courteous.

"No, thank you… But Summer and Shaggy will need to be brought in, now that I think of it. I told, uh, them that they'd be allowed to sleep in the castle tonight." Jon looked at him meaningfully, and Robb understood that Bran and Rickon wanted their wolves.

"I'll see to it myself. Is Ghost outside as well?"

"No. He was still beyond the Wall when I came South. He's come through the Bloody Gate now. I hated to leave him but well, direwolves can't climb. He'll be here within a day or two, though. He's coming."

"Climb?" Robb was puzzled. It took him another few seconds to understand. "You didn't climb the Wall, did you?" He was aghast.

Jon tilted his head back and laughed deeply, although the sound was frayed slightly. "Yes, I did. Being up that high… it was glorious, brother. But we'll speak tomorrow. I'll tell you it all."

Robb nodded, dazed, and went to the door. Before he opened it, he turned around and smiled at Jon. "I'll hold you to that… and Jon? I meant to ask earlier… but what are you wearing? I thought that the Night's Watch wore cloaks of black?"

Jon grinned and took off the cloak of whitish grey Robb spoke of. He threw it over a nearby chair gracelessly. He sat down as if he couldn't bear to stand, and Robb's heart hurt to see his brother weak as he was. "They do. This is the cloak Mance Raydar gave me when I, uh, was north of the Wall. It's sheepskin."

"Who?" Robb had never heard the name.

"The king of the free folk. The King beyond the Wall. Mance. Mance Raydar."

Robb's eyes widened. He had almost forgotten that Jon was thought to have joined the wildlings a moon or so ago. "I have questions about that mess," Robb said with a wide smile. "I never believed it when they told me you deserted, and I still don't. I'll bet it's a hell of a story, though."

"Yes. That it is. I'll tell you on the morrow, Robb. And, uh… thank you. Again."

"For what?"

Jon shrugged. "For today. It all went better than I had hoped for."

Robb nodded to him and said, "Thank you, Jon," as earnestly as Jon had said it to him.

"For what?" Jon honestly seemed puzzled.

"You know what for."

"You don't have to thank me, Robb. Truly, you don't."

"All the same."

Robb crossed the room in two quick strides, pulled Jon from the chair gently as he could, and hugged his brother tight. Jon hugged him equally as hard.

"I'm glad you're here."

"Me as well."

Robb left, and Jon slept like the dead that night.