It was the final day of the Royal Family's stay at Winterfell as Jon Snow ascended the steps of the Great Keep of Winterfell, trying to put out it of his mind that this may be the last time he did so. The cloudy day had turned to snow, yet men in the yard were running chaotically, attempting to gather the Royal Family's luggage to return to King's Landing. His sisters were to depart as well. After Bran fell, his Lord Father had chosen to bring Arya along as well, as Bran no longer could. Jon had never seen Prince Edric smile so much when he had heard about that. Those we the thoughts on his mind when he reached Bran's room.
Inside Bran's room, candles were burning as Lady Stark sat at his bedside, the Septon saying a prayer to his health. I can understand allowing a small Sept to be built, even allowing a Septon to come from White Harbour, but allowing a Septon, any Septon, to see the son of the Lord of Winterfell and Lady Stark forbidding any Green Man to see him? The Gods will surely look down on us for this. Yet all those thoughts faded away as Lady Stark set her eyes upon him.
She seemed to not recognize him at first, her blue eyes blinking in confusion, until they focused into a gaze. "Why have you come?" she droned, her voice lacking any emotion, even scorn.
Jon steeled himself for his own reply. "I've come to see Bran… to say goodbye."
Lady Stark lifted her head and her disheveled auburn hair fell over her shoulders. The Septon continued praying in High Valyrian, seemingly unaware of the world around him. "You've said it, and you can see him right there. Now go away."
He stepped forward into the room, letting Ghost run around him and into the room. He had a piece of himself that wished to flee at once, but Jon knew he may never see Bran again if he did so. "Please." he said.
"I told you to leave. We don't want you here." she said, ice seeming to flash through her blue eyes. As a child, that would have made him run away, or even cry. Now, it simply made him angry. He was the blood of House Stark, and through him flowed the blood of Winter, and that of Maekar, the Anvil of Redgrass Field. Were she still alive, his great-grandmother would have been at Bran's side, saying prayers, but Daella had passed only weeks following Rickon's birth.
Jon felt his will turn to steel, as he continued forward. "He's my brother." he said. His fear began to melt away. He was to swear himself to the Night's Watch, he would have far worse things to fear than Catelyn Stark.
"Shall I call the guards?"
"Go ahead. Call them." he said, his fear having fully vanished. "You can't stop me from seeing him." He crossed the room, keeping the bed between them as he crossed. As he did, Ghost began yapping at the Septon, likely smelling the oils on him.
"Lady Stark, I believe I said that the wolf must not interrupt the prayer, it is much less effective when it is interrupted." he said harshly, before continuing to recite his prayer. Jon barely noticed as he looked down at Bran's face. Lady Stark held one of his hands. It looked like a claw. The flesh seemed to stretch over him like the wood of a bow. This wasn't the climbing boy he remembered. Under the blankets, his legs bent outwards in a way that made Jon gag. His blue eyes stared upwards unceasingly, empty, looking but not. He remembered that Arya had to walk Prince Edric away from the room as he shuddered and choked back sobs.
As Bran's chest continued to rise and fall in shallow breaths, Jon finally spoke. "Bran, I'm sorry I didn't come before. I was afraid." As he continued, tears rolled down his cheeks and onto Bran's face, yet Jon couldn't bring himself to care. "Don't die Bran, we're all waiting for you. Me, Robb, Rickon, and the girls." Lady Stark had done nothing, and Jon took that as acceptance of the situation. Outside the window, the direwolf howled again. The direwolf Bran had not named. "I must go now. Uncle Benjen is waiting, we must leave now, before the snows come in force." He recalled Bran's excited face, how he was so happy to see Jon ride off to the wall. It was almost too much to bear, leaving him behind like this.
"I wanted him to stay." Lady Stark said dully. Jon watched her, warily. She wasn't even looking at him, but he knew she was talking to him. "I prayed in the Sept seven times, once for each face of god that Ned would change his mind and allow him to stay. Prince Edric prayed in the Sept as well, for Arya to come south. Sometimes prayers are answered." she said, gripping Bran's hand tighter.
Jon didn't know how to reply to that. He didn't believe in the Seven, yet he couldn't just say nothing. "You couldn't control that." He managed, after the awkward silence had fallen through.
Her eyes met his. Her gaze had no warmth. "It is not your absolution I seek, Snow."
"Of course you don't, such a sinful creature as a bastard cannot possibly grant absolution, only deeper sin." Jon turned to see the Septon, now having stopped his prayer.
"I don't mean to offend. I was offering my sympathy to the mother of my little brother." Jon said respectfully. He did not wish to challenge the Septon now, in front of his brother's sick bed. "Goodbye now." he said, after lightly kissing Bran on the forehead. He hurried from the room at a quick enough pace that had either of them spoken another word, he wouldn't have heard them. It was a long walk back to the courtyard. When he reached it, everything was chaos and confusion. More and more men were running in all directions, loading up luggage into wagons, saddling and harnessing horses, leading them out into the courtyard, and gathering everything for the long ride back to King's Landing. The snow had picked up in speed since he had gone inside, and everyone wanted to be gone from Winterfell before it stuck to the roads.
Robb was standing in the middle, shouting commands in an effort to keep order. He seemed bigger than he had before, as if Bran's fall had somehow made him gain strength. Grey Wind noticed him first, as Robb turned to look at him. "Uncle Benjen was looking for you! He wanted to be off an hour ago!"
"I know." Jon replied. "Soon." He looked at all the noise and chaos. "Leaving is more difficult than I'd have imagined."
"For me, too." Robb agreed, the snow touching his auburn hair and melting away. "Have you seen him?" Jon nodded. "He won't die. I know he won't."
Jon nodded again. "You Starks are hard to kill." he said, his tiredness showing through. Robb frowned, he knew something was wrong.
"My mother?" Robb asked.
"She… wasn't cruel." Jon said. Robb relaxed at that.
"Good." he smiled. "The next time I see you, you'll be in all black." Jon forced himself to smile back at his brother. "It always was my colour. How long do you think it will be?"
"Soon enough." Robb promised. He grabbed Jon and pulled him into a hug. "Farewell, Snow."
Jon returned the embrace. "You too, Stark. Take care of Bran… and the Princess."
"I-I will." Robb replied, pulling away. His face was slightly more pink than before. "Oh, Uncle Benjen said to send you to the stables if I saw you."
"I still have one final farewell to make." Jon said.
"Then I haven't seen you." Robb answered. Jon left him there, as he returned to giving orders to the men. It was a short walk to the armoury from there. He found the second Prince there, sitting on the bench with one leg up on it, his chin resting on his knee. The moment he noticed Jon, he hopped off the chair with their package.
"He finished it not a few moments ago." the Prince said, trying to find the right way to carry the package, before slipping up and dropping it. After picking it up, he handed it to Jon, clearly embarrassed. The two of them left the armoury and crossed the covered bridge into the keep.
Arya was in her room, packing a polished chest of Forrester Ironwood that was even bigger than her. Nymeria appeared to be helping. She would simply point at something and Nymeria would run and grab it, before bringing it back. As she finished packing something, however, Arya stopped, and turned around to face them, jumping as she did so. She jumped into Jon's arms with a hug. "I thought you had gone already. The Septa wouldn't let me say goodbye!"
"Arya..." Edric said carefully. "I thought I helped you finish packing all this already, why is it all out again?" she untangled herself from Jon. "The Septa." she said simply. "She said that it wasn't packed right. That a Southron lady doesn't throw her clothes inside her chest like old rags."
"My sister does, she only folds the nice dresses." Edric muttered.
"Exactly! But who cares, they'll be all messed up anyway by the time we make it to King's Landing!" she replied.
"The Septa evidently does." Jon said. "I don't think she'd enjoy Nymeria helping either."
"She's not gonna stop Nym from helping." Edric said, holding out his hand as Nymeria licked it. "Besides, he has a present for you, one that has to be packed the most carefully." Her eyes lit up.
"You do, Jon?" she asked. He nodded in reply.
"Close the door." Seemingly wary, but excited at the same time, Arya quickly checked the hall.
"Nym, go guard the door." Edric said softly. The direwolf perked up, and walked over to Arya, who pointed her where to guard. She closed the door behind the wolf. While she did that, Jon unwrapped the rags that the Prince had wrapped the package in. He held it out to her. Arya's eyes widened as she laid her eyes on it. Grey-blue eyes matching their father's.
"A sword." she said quietly. The scabbard was black leather, not ordinate in any way, Edric reached out and drew the sword carefully, holding it with the finger-rings.
"This isn't a toy." Jon said. "Careful not to cut yourself with it, the edges are so sharp you could shave."
"Girls don't… usually… shave." Arya said, casting a furtive glance in Prince Edric's direction.
Not wanting to tread on that soil, he tried to alleviate some tension. "Well, maybe they should. Have you seen the Septa's legs?" They all shared a giggle at that.
"The sword is really skinny. And why are there rings above the pommel?" she asked.
"The sword is skinny because you are, too." Edric replied. "The finger rings are there to hold you fingers to hold it easier." He backed up and demonstrated, swinging the sword finely.
"Bravos use them across the Free Cities." Jon added. "It won't behead a man, but it can leave him bleeding from many holes if you are quick enough."
"I can be fast." she said with a smile.
"You'll have to work at it every day until your arm will get used to it." Edric said, handing the sword to her. She carefully took the hilt and gave it a practice swing.
"Do you like the balance?" Jon asked.
"I think so." Arya replied, giving the sword a practice swing
"First lesson." Jon said with a smile. "Stick 'em with the pointy end." She smacked him on the arm with the flat of her blade. Despite the fact that it hurt, he couldn't stop smiling.
"I know which end to use." she grimaced. "Septa Mordane will take it away from me."
"Not if she wants to remain a Septa." Edric said. "Or if you just hide it." he quickly added after Arya glared at him. "I can practice it with you once we get to King's Landing. I'll commission a sword to spar with you."
"Of course, whatever you do..." Jon said, before all three of them said in unison, "… don't… tell… Sansa!"
Jon ruffled her hair roughly. "I'll miss you, little sister. Take care of her, Your Grace" Edric blushed heavily.
"Don't say weird things like that." he said, looking away. Jon laughed lightly.
"I have to go, I'll spend my first year cleaning the chamber pots at Castle Black if I make Uncle Benjen wait any longer." Jon said. Arya began to run at him for a last hug, but suddenly stopped, looked at her hand, then placed her sword down, before running up to him and placing kisses all over his face. Prince Edric said his temporary goodbyes then before leaving the room then. Jon followed him soon after, the warmth of her laughter at their choosing of the swords name keeping the cold away for the ride north.