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CHAPTER 13: Of Flames and Fire
Robb woke up early that morning. He left Jeyne sleeping and padded silently, his feet barefoot and still in the clothes he had slept in, through the connecting door from his bedroom into the room he'd put his brothers in.
Bran and Rickon were on the bed. Robb stayed in the doorway and looked at them for a moment. He'd thought they were both asleep, but Bran sat up a moment later.
"Hi," he whispered.
"Hi."
Bran sniffed and Robb realized with a start of bewilderment he was crying. "Bran? What wrong?"
"Nothing," his brother said. His voice broke. "I'm just glad to be here. Can we… can we go somewhere else? To talk?"
"Yes."
Robb lifted his brother and brought him to another of his rooms. He was a king, and his rooms in Riverrun reflected that. Besides the two bedrooms, there was a room with nothing but a few fur chairs and a large fireplace. Robb settled Bran on a chair there and threw a heavy fur over him before kneeling to start a fire.
"So, what's wrong?" Robb asked his brother.
Bran sniffed again. Robb thought of how young he was.
"Bran?" he asked.
Bran's voice was small as he said, "Hodor… Hodor's dead."
It took Robb a fraction of a second to place the name. Then he nodded and sat in the chair next to Bran. "Hodor was at Winterfell. Theon killed him, didn't he?"
His brothers might be alive, but Robb would still have Theon's head. The betrayal hurt badly, and it had festered like a wound for moons now.
But Bran was shaking his head. "N-No. Hodor helped rescue me and Rickon out of Winterfell. When we got split up from Asha and Rickon it was just me and Hodor until Jon found us. He… he carried me. But wildlings… wildlings killed him on our way here."
Robb understood. "The same wildlings that hurt Jon. That cut his face?"
Bran nodded, miserable and still tired. "Yeah. They knew Jon. They called him by name. They called him a traitor and a crow and I knew they were the ones that Jon had been traveling with when he saw Summer and came back for me. Jon called one of them by name… there were so many, Robb. I thought we were going to die."
"How many?"
Bran shook his head. "13 or 14, I think."
Robb stared at him, incredulous. Jon was a great fighter, but 13 or 14 wildlings? When he was as frail as he was now?
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. Jon and Hodor and Ygritte and Summer and Shaggy killed a lot of them, and when Jon killed the big one the others ran away." Bran was very tired still and his voice dropped slightly as he spoke through a yawn. "Jon stabbed him through the eye. He called him a magnet or magner or something. And then Stein, like that was his name. He called him a Thenn, too. But I don't know what any of that means, really."
Bran didn't notice his slip, but Robb did.
"Who is Ygritte?"
Bran sat bolt up in his chair as much as he could, his legs useless. He looked stricken. "Oh, no," he said. "I wasn't supposed to mention her."
Robb was curious. "Her? Did Jon tell you not to mention her?"
"No, Ygritte did. She said it wouldn't do Jon any good if everyone knew about her with the laws down south of the Wall and his vows. This was before Jon left the Watch, when I don't know what he was planning on doing after bringing me here."
"But who is she?"
"She's one of the free folk. Her and Jon were really good friends, and she stayed with him when he fought the other wildlings even though she was one too. The magnet Stein called her a crow wife and then Jon stabbed him through his eye. That was when the others ran away. Hodor was dead by then. Stein had pushed a spear through his throat."
Bran shuddered and Robb put a hand on his shoulder. He didn't need crow wife or the subtext of really good friends to be explained to him.
Robb was very curious now, and Bran hardly needed to dwell on the death he had seen. "Bran… what did she look like?" he asked.
"Jon said she was kissed by fire. When I asked him what it meant he said it was something the free folk told him. It just meant she had red hair and was lucky because of it."
"Was she… pretty?"
Bran considered for a moment. "I guess," he said finally. "She was really nice… kind of. I thought she was going to kill me when I first met her, but Jon had told her who I was, and she didn't. And then Jon passed out because he'd been shot in the leg with an arrow and Ygritte said he had lost too much blood and we hid him with me and then she went hunting. She caught a lot of birds and rabbits. They were good."
The way words tumbled out of Bran made it obvious to Robb that he was clearly traumatized by all this. Despite this, Robb would be lying if he said he wasn't interested.
"And then Jon woke up," Bran continued, "and had to go back to the Wall to warn them that there were a lot of wildlings coming to attack them, and he left me with Ygritte. Jon said he would come back after he warned them and then he would bring me to you and Mother. I didn't think Ygritte like me much, at first, anyway, but I could tell she actually did." Bran looked happy at the thought, and his lips twitched into a smile.
"How?"
"Because when I fell asleep the first night after Jon left, I woke up with her sitting next to me, so I didn't fall over like I usually do or get cold since we couldn't have a fire. She wasn't asleep though, like I thought she was, even though she was really tired. And she had her bow loaded and held it really tight, like she was afraid of something. I didn't see what, but I didn't make a noise because she had put a finger to her lips when I woke up and told me not to. We looked out together for a while, and then Summer started to growl. It was a wildling, like the one she'd shot when Jon came back to find me. She saved my life then by shooting him while Jon passed out, I think.
Robb thought about asking about that, before he remembered how tired Jon had been. He kept quiet and Bran continued.
"Anyway, there was another wildling that night. Ygritte said he was a scout and had likely come looking for the one she'd killed. She shot that one dead the moment he appeared. I was glad too, because he looked really mean. Then Ygritte said we had to move, even though it was the middle of the night, and we went to a different Ghost Tower a little way away. I said Hodor could carry me fine, but I don't think she much liked him because she wouldn't let him and carried me on her back so she could hold her bow at the same time."
They were quiet for a moment while Robb struggled to process this and understand. He reminded himself Bran was still just a child, and it showed in how he explained, with events over days muddled together like they'd happened together. "You didn't see any more wildlings until Jon came back, then?"
"No."
"But when you did that was when Hodor died, right?"
"Yeah."
"And Jon and Ygritte fought them?"
"Yeah."
"And Hodor?"
"Yeah."
"I'm sorry about him dying, Bran. He was a good man." A horrible thought occurred to him. "Ygritte isn't dead, is she?" If she was, that might explain why Jon had looked so tired and miserable last night… Robb couldn't imagine losing Jeyne.
"Oh, no. No. She was a better fighter with her bow than Jon was with his sword, since he couldn't really walk to fight. Aemon told him not to, and that he would just pass out if he tried. And Jon could only do so much from the horse."
"Why isn't she here, then? She'd be more than welcome… she saved your life." And maybe she would cheer Jon up.
Bran bit his lip. "She…she…"
"What is it, Bran? You can tell me, it's okay. I promise."
But Bran shook his head and didn't look at Robb. "Jon would be angry if I told you. He was really upset when she left… I think he even cried a little, although I couldn't see his face since Aemon was hugging him."
That took Robb aback, but he quickly recovered. "I'm sure Jon wouldn't be mad at you, Bran. You're his brother. Besides Jon's going to tell me everything anyway, he said he would, but this way it would be easier if he didn't have to say it."
"It did make him really sad."
"Why didn't she come here?"
"She… After we fought the wildlings and found Rickon and were making camp that night, Jon took her off into the forest to talk privately. He said he had to tell her something, had to tell us all something. But he wanted to tell her first. They went off for a while and when they came back both their clothes were all dirty like they'd been in the dirt and fit them kind of weird. Ygritte was holding his hand, too. I knew he'd told her, though, because there were tears on her face. Then he told us how he'd died on the Wall, and how Jynessa had brought him back. Ygritte wasn't surprised, and I knew Jon had told her when they were alone."
"She… she didn't like that?" But if their clothes were dirty and disheveled… Robb didn't understand.
"I don't think so, but it didn't seem to scare her like it scared me at first. She asked to see his chest again and when he did, she dropped his hand and backed away. She started crying then, with noise and everything. Jon did too, I think, but he didn't make any noise. It was dark and kind of hard to tell."
"And…" Robb struggled to believe it. "And she left him? Just like that?"
"Yeah, that night. She didn't take a horse, and Asha went with her. Then it was just us left."
"But she didn't say anything to Jon?"
Bran shrugged. "She whispered something to him before she left. But I dunno what it was."
"How was… how was Jon? After she left?"
"He didn't talk for the rest of the trip here, except for once or twice or to Maester Aemon. Jynessa kind of took over as leader while Jon just seemed… I guess stunned."
"You… you said he cried?"
"Yeah." Bran's voice was small, and he looked as sad as Robb felt. Oh, Jon… He'd been through so much… "But you won't tell him that I said will you?"
"No, Bran. I won't. Of course not."
"Okay."
"And you didn't see Ygritte again?"
"No."
They sat in silence for a while. Bran didn't say anything, just looked pensively into the fire. Robb looked with him, thinking. Finally, he cleared his throat.
"Did you know about Jon's parents?"
"Yeah. He told us when we asked about Maester Aemon."
They talked of Jon for a while more, and of how Bran had come to be North of Winterfell with only Hodor and Summer. They talked of how they had found Rickon, and how Jon had been silent and shuttered for the rest of the journey. They even talked of Aemon, who Bran liked quite a bit, and Jynessa the Red, who Bran did not like much. Eventually, though the conversation steered back to the shocking truth of Jon's parentage.
"Do you know what it means?" Bran had been sad and withdrawn before, but now he was smiling.
Robb shook his head, though he did.
"I realized it yesterday morning and when I asked Jon he nodded but said it didn't matter… Since his father was the prince, and the prince is dead and he was the oldest son… Robb, it means Jon could be king!"
"Jon said it didn't matter?"
"Yeah. He didn't even seem to care when I told him. He said you were the king now and that was as close to royalty as Jon wanted to get."
But Robb was only king in the North… That would bear thinking on, Robb knew. "Huh," was all he said now.
"But," Bran said excitedly, missing Robb's thoughtful expression. "I saw Jon in a dream, and he was wearing a crown! So, I know he must be king! There was a woman with him, and she must have been his wife because she was wearing a crown too."
"It wasn't Ygritte, was it?" From the sound of it, Robb somehow thought that she would be the only wife Jon would be interested in having. For a while, at least. Maybe for a long while.
"No. She had white hair and purple eyes. Ygritte's eyes were brown."
Robb cast an idle eye to the window. They were on the third floor, so no one could see inside. The sun was just visible on the horizon, its light peaking in. He looked at Bran and smiled.
"How about I go fetch Mother and some food for us? We'll break our fast here."
Bran grinned and nodded enthusiastically.
Robb went through the boys' room and when he saw Rickon was blinking awake in bed, sitting quietly, Robb said as cheerfully as he could muster, "Bran's through there, if you want to join him. I'll be back with Mother and some food in a few minutes."
Rickon got out of bed quickly, but he did not go to the room Robb had indicated and instead came to Robb and grabbed his leg. Robb frowned and was just about to attempt to detach the child when a voice in the doorway made him smile.
"And who is this?" Jeyne was there, a smile on her face and her hair mussed from sleep. Robb caught her eye and she winked before stepping further into the room. She kneeled next to Rickon and smiled gently at him. "Are you Prince Bran?"
Robb laughed quietly at Rickon's immediately indignant face. "No!" he said hotly, the first Robb had heard him speak since arriving at Riverrun.
Jeyne gasped in mock astonishment. "Prince Rickon? Is that you?"
Robb left Jeyne and Rickon talking and nodded to the room Bran was in as he left. She nodded and smiled at him. "I'll be back," he told her. "With breakfast and my mother."
"You'd best hurry back. I think Prince Rickon is more charming than you, Robb."
He laughed and went to do as she said. He walked by Jon's room and was disappointed to see the door was still shut. He hesitated firmly, thinking it was still quite early, before he opened the door. It was well oiled and opened silently. To Robb's complete lack of surprise, Jon was sleeping heavily. He hesitated, then studied his brother for a moment.
Jon was still paler than Robb would have liked. His hair was a mess. There were dark circle under his eyes. He was sleeping bare chested as well, but Robb didn't look to his brother's grievous wounds. He left quickly, not wanting to wake him.
And thankfully he didn't. Robb thought Jon would probably sleep for hours more, if his exhaustion was anything to judge by. He crept quietly to his mother's room and knocked on the door.
She opened the door quickly. Robb looked at her and said meaningfully, "Would you like to have breakfast with Jeyne and me? In our chambers? I'm on my way to fetch the food now."
His mother beamed at him. "I'd be delighted, Your Grace," she said. "Allow me to accompany you to the kitchens."
She must have been thinking along the same lines that Robb was, that Bran and Rickon needed a decent meal, because when they walked back to his chambers both were carrying heavy trays of food.
"Is Jon joining us?" she asked as they passed his room.
"No," Robb said quietly. "I checked in on him and he was still asleep."
"Ah." Lady Catelyn seemed to be thinking. "I don't recall him ever sleeping late at Winterfell."
Robb shook his head. "No, Jon was the first to rise. But did you see him? He was exhausted."
"Yes," she said softly. "He was. You should send Maester Aldrin to him."
"Why? He brought Maester Aemon with him. I'm sure he's… in good health."
Robb knew they were both thinking of his chest then. They walked in silence the rest of the way.
The reunion between Lady Catelyn and her two youngest sons was joyous and over the top if you considered they had seen each other last night. It was subdued if you considered they hadn't seen each other for months before then and she had thought them dead. Speaking of Jon's death had put both of them in an odd mood. Robb stayed and ate with his family for a while but couldn't sit still. Finally, when the sun was much higher in the sky, Robb stood up and stretched. He'd been sitting longer than he thought. Jon was surely awake by now.
When he told them where he was going, Jeyne and Rickon both asked to come with him.
"You must stay with me," Lady Catelyn said to Rickon, "for I cannot bear the pain of your absence."
Rickon pouted, but only for a second.
"Perhaps," Robb said slowly. "We can have lunch with Jon together, Jeyne. I would… I would see him alone first." And he had to tell her of how Jon had died… and now was not the place for that.
His queen was, as ever, understanding. "That sounds lovely," she said and retook her seat with grace.
When Robb came to Jon's door he knocked. There was no answer and after hesitating for a moment, Robb cautiously opened the door. It was empty. The bed was still a mess, and Jon's cloak was slung over a chair, untouched.
Next Robb went to Maester Aemon's room. The door was shut, and he debated not even knocking, not wanting to disturb the old man's rest, until he heard Jon's voice clearly from within.
"Are you sure, Aemon? Meereen?"
Whatever Aemon's reply was going to be, it was cut off when Robb knocked. There was rustling, then the maester's face appeared through the smallest crack in the door.
"Who is it?"
"Robb. Robb Stark. Is Jon here? I was hoping to speak to him."
Aemon looked behind him and Robb heard Jon say something. Then Aemon opened the door and said, "You can come in. Yes, he's here."
The door was shut firmly behind Robb, and he was met with a strange sight. Jon was sitting on a chair at a small round table in the room. He was wearing different clothes from last night, and his long-sleeved tunic had its sleeves rolled back to Jon's shoulders, looking very strange.
"Good morning," Jon said quietly.
Robb studied his brother. He looked much better than he had last night, that was obvious. His face had color in it, and his eyes had a dull spark to them where there had been nothing last night. Robb watched idly, cheered by Jon's better appearance, as Aemon bustled between them and sat in the chair pulled up next to Jon's. He dipped his fingers into a bowl on the table and came back with hands dripping a strange black, glistening goo. Aemon moved his fingers gently along Jon's—
"Jon, your arm."
Against his will, Robb's voice was higher than he'd meant when he said this. His face turned pale, and he felt lightheaded as he stared at the impossibly deep, foot long gash that went from the crook of Jon's elbow to the beginning of his palm. It was a deadly wound if ever Robb had seen one. To his utter horror, the terrible wound was mirrored on his other arm, which was laid across the arm rest of the chair as his other arm was.
"Jon, your arms. What happened?"
"It's fine, Robb," Jon was quick to assure him as the maester added more goo to the gash on his left arm. "I promise, it's fine. Aemon's seeing to them, see? Well, he's treating them anyway." Jon smiled hopefully at the joke.
"But what… What happened?" Robb couldn't tear his eyes away, and he listened, rapt, as Jon explained the red priestess had done them while he was dead.
"Lady Jynessa needed blood to bring me back, get it? I don't understand why she didn't just use some of my other blood, considering I was soaking in the stuff from the state of my clothes at the time but, uh," Jon seemed to realize that saying this was somehow unhelpful. "Well, anyway. I was dead so it didn't even hurt. And they stopped bleeding real quick once I was breathing again."
"Oh… oh. Right."
"And Aemon's going to heal them, want to watch?" Jon seemed in far too good a mood. Robb finally looked away from his arms and saw to his shock that Jon was grinning at him. "It's really cool. He tried it on my leg a few days ago, otherwise I wouldn't be able to walk at all. He'd have done it sooner, but he said I wasn't strong enough."
"You weren't," Maester Aemon agreed. He stood from the table and wiped his hands on a rag. He crossed to the room and grabbed a torch from the wall. Robb wasn't sure how he knew it was there considering he was blind, or how he didn't burn himself. Jon didn't bat an eye though. Maester Aemon continued, "And if I had tried it would have killed you. Mind, my lord, this will only work on a Targaryen such as me or Jon. Anyone else, it would kill immediately. Or hurt them very badly."
Robb didn't realize he was the lord Maester Aemon had been speaking to until Jon said, gently, "Robb is king in the North, Aemon. And he's my brother."
Maester Aemon didn't respond, but merely reclaimed his seat with the burning torch in his hand.
Jon sighed slightly but when he spoke next it wasn't to Aemon. "Robb, if you want to watch you should come sit." He gestured to the third chair. "Just don't, uh, don't freak out."
Robb sat. "I'll try not to."
But it was impossible not to stand up in horror when Maester Aemon casually brought the torch down on Jon's arm, where he had smeared the black gunk… Robb realized belatedly it was oil. Robb shouted, but he was the only one to do so.
"Seat yourself," Maester Aemon told him, his tone not unkind.
Robb didn't sit. Instead he stared, aghast, held captive by the sight of Jon's arm alit in furious flame.
"Robb, look. Really. It's fine. It doesn't hurt at all, I promise."
Robb sat. He was looking where Jon indicated and saw… he wasn't being burned. The fire swam on top of his arm. It touched him, but didn't not burn him, Robb thought. It was too bright to see what it was doing specifically over the wound, where it danced merrily, and Robb had to look away.
"How?" he asked, voice unsteady. Jon was just full of surprises, lately.
Jon shrugged. "I don't know. It's magic of a sort, I suppose. It's odd, because I was burned before, but not since I know who I am, or since I came back from the dead. I don't know. It doesn't hurt at all though, like I said. It sorts of tingles and tickles. It's an odd feeling. Not a bad one."
Maester Aemon had a simpler explanation. "Dragons are fire made flesh, Robb Stark, and Targaryens are dragons masquerading as humans. We are of flames and fire. How could fire harm us?"
Jon must have agreed because he merely shrugged at Robb, still smiling slightly. His eyes flickered to the door a second before a knock rang out.
"I'll get it," Robb said and answered the door. At the table the fire was slowly dying. In its wake it left unblemished skin. Robb looked closer… not unblemished, he saw. The wound was gone but there was a thin, silver scar where it had been.
It was his mother at the door. "Is Jon here? I'd like to speak to him."
Robb nodded then looked behind him. "Can my mother come in?" He wasn't sure who he was asking, but it was Jon who nodded. When Lady Catelyn came in there was no more fire on Jon's arm, but she saw his other wound quickly enough.
"What happened to your arm?" she asked, horrified at the sight of the single gash remaining.
Jon laughed. Lady Catelyn looked affronted and bewildered, and he hurried to assure her. "No offense meant, Lady Stark, but Robb asked the same. It was part of what Jynessa did to resurrect me. It doesn't hurt and Aemon is fixing it now. Would you like to sit?"
Robb ushered his mother to sit down, and they all watched as Maester Aemon repeated what he had done before. Robb watched with new understanding as the black goo was spread over his arm.
Before he could light Jon's arm, Jon quickly said, "Wait a moment. Watch this, Robb." With a grin to his brother, Jon scooped up what was left of the black gunk out of the bowl and cradled it in the hand of his healed arm.
"What is that?" Lady Catelyn asked.
"Oil," said Jon, still grinning. "Watch this. Go ahead Aemon."
The maester lowered the torch to Jon's arm, and as he did Jon carefully caught some of the flames in his cupped hand. Robb's mother was yelling in horror and had stood up in fright, but Robb watched in silence, transfixed.
Jon was holding the fire in his arm harmlessly, not paying the slightest bit of attention to the fire on his arm, apparently healing him. When he caught Robb's eye he grinned and made a fist, extinguishing the fire. Then he showed Jon his palm… it was unburnt. The larger fire on his armed burned for perhaps another minute before it too died out. In its absence the thin silver scar, matching the other arm's, was clear to see.
When his mother asked the same questions Robb had, of how this could be possible that fire could heal not harm him, it was Jon who answered her questions.
And within an hour he had sent a letter with an envoy on a boat to Meereen, where Daenerys Targaryen, the Stormborn and his father's sister, was said to be in the market for an army.
When Robb left with Jon in tow to see to the boys later, it was with Jon's words ringing in his ears. Jon had said to Lady Catelyn's questions, simply, "Fire cannot burn a dragon."
