Chapter 3: Jon
Jon stared at the book that Bran had given him for his nameday last year and sighed. It didn't seem fair. The book had fallen a few times, when Jon had been careless enough to drop it, and yet it remained unbroken. But Bran? Bran was broken, he was also unconscious. He'd gone climbing whilst the rest of them had gone out for a hunt and then he'd fallen. Fallen and likely broken his back, meaning he'd never be able to walk again.
It wasn't fair. And it didn't make sense. Bran never fell. Never. Jon had seen him climb the highest tower in Winterfell, heart in mouth, and Bran had looked as if he'd been born to climb it. He'd always come down safe and sound. He'd never put a foot wrong, until a few days ago. He'd fallen from the old Tower, the one that was barely a tower anymore, and now he was fast asleep in his bed, with no idea of what had happened.
Everyone was distraught. Robb had gone somewhere with Theon after being told the news and Jon had had to help Theon carry Robb back into his chamber without anyone seeing them. Arya was irritable, Sansa was quiet-which was a change given she'd spent the last few days sticking firmly to the Crown Prince-and Rickon? Well Rickon was too young to understand what had happened and why Bran was suddenly asleep all the time.
Jon's father spent most of his time with the King, discussing who knew what, whilst Lady Stark remained firmly at Bran's bedside. It was that that had prevented Jon from going to see his brother. He didn't want to see Lady Stark's accusing eyes, to see her glaring at him, demanding to know why he still lived whilst her son was near death.
That angered him. He was almost a man grown now. He should not be terrified of a damned woman. A woman he could harm if he so chose-not that he ever would-but still, whenever he looked at her, he felt like a little boy. A little boy who she blamed for Robb getting hurt, or for whatever ill befell her children.
That was why he'd gone to the Tower, to see what might have caused Bran to fall. He'd thought that maybe if he found something he could go to Lord Stark and to Lady Stark and then she'd not look at him with such hatred. A childish idea, but one he had seriously considered. At least until he had actually entered the tower.
He'd found nothing. Nothing at all to suggest that Bran had been pushed, apart from one stray golden curl. At least he thought it was golden, there was a lot of dirt in the hair. It was that dirt that had stopped him mentioning it to anyone, he couldn't damned well say anything with the hair being that dirty.
"You should really stop staring at the book and finishing packing, Jon." A deep voice said, pulling Jon out of the melee of his mind.
Jon blinked and turned around to find Ser Oswell Rivers, a knight who'd come from the Riverlands to serve in Winterfell years ago, standing there looking at him.
"I'm packed." Jon said.
He liked Ser Oswell, the man had a dark sense of humour that always made Jon laugh, and he was very, very good with a sword. Indeed, Ser Rodrik had proclaimed him the finest swordsman he'd ever seen, which given Ser Rodrik had fought against Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Gerold Hightower, was saying something.
"Then why are you staring at nothing?" Ser Oswell asked.
"It's not nothing." Jon replied, he turned around and walked to the book and picked it up before turning around to show Ser Oswell. "Bran gave me this last year. I was just thinking on it and the fact that Bran is where he is, and this book is where it is."
Ser Oswell said nothing, he simply stood there.
"I don't know if I should go on to Essos." Jon said, getting to why he had been staring at the book to begin with, and why his thoughts had turned to Bran.
"Why?" Ser Oswell asked.
"Well, it doesn't seem right. Bran is how he is, Lady Stark is in no fit condition to do any actual ruling. That means the burden will fall on Robb. And Robb is, well, Robb is my age, I don't know how he'll manage ruling Winterfell and the north in our Lord Father's name." Jon said. Robb was a good man, but he was still just a boy, and Winterfell and the north was a serious responsibility.
"Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrik will be on hand to advise him." Ser Oswell said.
"Yes, but they will treat him as the Lord of Winterfell in action if not name." Jon said. "They won't be able to tell him when he's being a complete idiot. Nor will they be able to counter Theon's influence on Robb." And that was what Jon was really worried about. Theon Greyjoy's influence. Greyjoy was not a good man; he was a whoremonger and a wretch who was tolerated by almost everyone because Robb got on with him.
"Lord Robb is old enough now to be able to hold to himself, Jon." Ser Oswell said.
"Is he?" Jon asked. "You saw how he acted after Bran's accident. That doesn't speak of a man in control of his emotions. He was led on by Theon." That was how Robb always got into trouble, when he allowed Greyjoy to get under his skin.
"Well then he will have to learn how to be a man." Ser Oswell said.
"I am his brother; I should be here with him." Jon said.
He expected Ser Oswell to nod and defer to him as he had done before-that had always surprised Jon-but this time the man simply asked. "Are you sure you really want to stay here, Jon? Especially once Lord Stark leaves with the King?"
Jon frowned. "Why wouldn't I want to stay here? Winterfell is my home."
"I know, Jon, but, think about it. Think about who would be in charge, in name, if not in deed." Ser Oswell said.
"Lady Stark." Jon replied.
Ser Oswell nodded. "She will be in charge, and she is in a terrible situation. Her son is how he is, and her husband is leaving. She will not be in a good state and she will want to blame someone, who do you think she will blame?"
"Me." Jon said in a small voice, feeling very much like a child then.
"Exactly." Ser Oswell said. "It is not right and it is not fair, but it is what will happen. Do you remember what happened with the direwolves?"
Jon nodded. They had all just come back from the execution of the Night's Watch deserter, the Stark children had the direwolves with them, and Lady Stark had come out and asked what had happened, and where they'd gotten those wolves. Bran had told Lady Stark the whole story, including Jon arguing with Lord Stark that his children should keep them. She'd looked at him once, a small smile had crept over her face then when she'd realised he had no direwolf himself, before she'd simply nodded and walked back into the castle.
That small smile had been seen by no one but Jon and it had pierced his heart. Even after all this time, Lady Stark still loathed him.
"So, I should go, leave my home, all because of Lady Stark?" Jon asked.
"No, you should go because it will be good for you to see more of the world than just Winterfell and the North. When you return, you will be a stronger and better man, and then it won't matter what Lady Stark thinks." Ser Oswell said.
"How do you know?" Jon asked, hating how small his voice sounded.
"Because I will make sure of it." Ser Oswell said, grinning.
Jon raised an eyebrow. "You're coming with me to Essos?"
"I am." Ser Oswell answered.
"Why?" Jon asked. "I thought you were going south with my Lord Father?" At least that was what he'd been told initially.
"Lord Stark asked that I accompany you. He wants someone who knows you to accompany you on your journey through Essos. Especially given the strange customs some of the Free Cities have." Ser Oswell said.
Jon smiled. "Well, then I am happy you are coming."
Ser Oswell smiled. "That's the spirit."
Jon laughed then glanced at the window and swore. "Sorry, Ser Oswell, I have to give something to Arya before we depart." He moved to the wall, grabbed a small package and hurried out past the knight. He hoped Arya liked her present. If she had any sense she'd find someone in King's Landing to train her. Maybe when he came back from Essos he could train her as well.
