Author's Note: English is not my natural language, so I'm sorry for any grammatical mistake you may find.

CHAPTER FIVE

On the morning of the third day, his eyes were affronted with the very well known lines of Moat Cailin. The blocks of black basalt looked like an outstretched hand of a giant sinking in the distance, waving one last goodbye to the skies above before being dethroned by the Neck's hills. It had been like centuries since the last time Jon was there. His father had taken Robb, Theon and him to hunt in the Wolfswood, but they had lost track of time and the night suddenly fell on them so they'd decided to sleep here. They'd spent the whole night listening to stories about it and learning its most unshared secrets to the point they could no longer sleep well for two or three days after. Thanks to that though, Jon was one of the few people in the world who knew the truth behind Moat Cailin, all its tricks and hidden passages. He also knew it was a mortal trap despite the appearance of a good for nothing old ruin.

Ghost sniffed the air. The fauna was everywhere they could look at, under every collection of stones, every damp fertile inch of land and every column of steam raising from the poisonous bogs and marshes. To Jon, it seemed to tell plainly that any innocent walk could mean becoming part of The Neck itself, no matter how large the army was. He maneuvered the reins gracefully through the few open pockets of the road until his steps were enclosed by a random ring of arrows jutting out the ground, probably due to archers' practice not so far. He smiled to himself.

The rich Neck's air was baptized with a sweet summer snow of thousands of tents, cookfires, steel tipped lances, horses and the whole strength of the North force at his feet.

The large camp left not a single glimpse of green squares to the eye, the voices echoed with an unheard magnitude from years of human abandonment since the last wars had ended and the sea of nickel melted together with the horizon wholly. Jon marched forward with Ghost trotting beside him, his hands flexed against the reins feeling a jolt of adrenaline and his eyes drank finally the length of all the banners flying atop of his head. When the ground proved to be dry enough, he came to a halt and fixed a lengthy stare to the rows of men and horses. One after another heads turned to him in confusion, several bodies froze in their ways out or in and whispers of "Jon" "Snow is here" "Ned's bastard" "Robb's brother" were heard nonstop.

But it was a glimpse of sharp steel over his shoulder which drew back all his attention.

"Shouldn't you be at The Wall, Snow?" He heard at his back.

"Shouldn't you be of better use with a sword in your hand, Karstark?" He answered, smiling.

He turned around and faced the Heir of Karhold Harrion Karstark, who was leaning over him with a sword inches away from his neck. But suddenly he let go of it and hugged Jon, like he hadn't seen him in a long time.

"I'm glad you're here Jon." He said cheerfully. "Maybe now we can get a break from Robb's obsessive battle lectures."

"Where is he? I need to see him."

"At the war council, where else?" Harrion pointed to the high ground ahead of them. "Come on, I'll take you there myself."

Jon followed Lord Rickard's son blindly. The cold stares soon became discreet bows, even some squires offered to look after his horse eagerly. Jon nodded to them and his eyes searched for Ghost but the direwolf had long since disappeared, probably following his brother down to the unseen boundaries of the camp. He straightened his head and a high-roofed tent peered over the distance, with steeply pitched slopes rising to peaks and a handful of screams and bellows breaking from the inside. The wet mud soon opened at their feet and the soon-to-be-tumbled-down entrance revealed a large and crowded table, loud enough to be heard several leagues away. Even the short candles were casting pitiful shadows over the wood which sustained heavy blows and ripples.

"They've been like that from almost three hours." Harrion whispered to him.

"Tywin Lannister is sprouting in the Trident like some bad weed while we seat here. We need to march now, put their men to flight and prevent any early attempt to besiege more castles south of the Trident."

"We'll loose men. We'll loose mounted force. We can't afford to meet him and expect a victory when the numbers are greatly on his side."

"Even if we consider doing that, Moat Cailin needs to be heavily garrisoned before leaving The North. Men we won't be able to fill in our ranks later."

"And do you think the crannogmen will only wave them as they watch Lannisters parade through their lands?"

"It's exactly what the Lords of the Vale did with Tyrion Lannister. Nothing!"

Shouts and screams went on forever. Jon had never heard so many voices speak at once, but there was one yet to be heard. Robb remained silent in his seat, listening quietly to all his bannermen and probably weighting each of their arguments individually before making a conclusion. The fire reflection in his silvery breastplate launched trails of orange light over the table and the mass of pelts at his right and left all the same making him even greater than the Greatjon, but his eyes seemed to be someplace else, somewhere between the map and the pieces draping it. For a moment, his clenched jaw and fierce immersed look gave Jon the feeling he was looking at his own father, or how he would've looked at the eve of the Battle of the Trident.

"They did something." Finally Robb's voice calmed the Lords. "Tyrion Lannister escaped but we know for certain he reached his father's camp in no time at all. That means Tywin Lannister sealed the Kingsroad all the way up to the Trident's crossing and is well placed there with a large army. Raventree and Harrenhal fell and Lord Blackwood holds Riverrun, which is now under siege by Jamie Lannister. Seagard and the Twins stand alone now."

"All more reasons for them to join our cause." Robett Glover said. "If we split our army in two and break the siege we will have their support and their men as well."

"Not to mention, the Kingslayer. Or what would be left of him." The Greatjon bellowed, sending his sixth or seventh goblet flying into the air like he had Jamie Lannister's face right at the other end.

Cheers and more shouts erupted again, with more banging of their fists and ale horns against the table. By the time they were done, Rickard Karstark titled his head to the tent entrance and coughed.

"Well. I'm glad you decided to grace us with your presence, Harrion." He addressed his son snorting. "You should've been here hours ago."

"I'm sorry, Father." He excused himself with an innocent smile. "I was on my way here when I stumbled into someone."

Harrion moved to the left and revealed his companion to the baffled men. For a moment, the crackle of candles and the sound of fingers rasping parchment cemented the air while the thundering voices had turned into nothing more than a mix of stuffed breaths. Jon was almost sure now his body had been carved into stone, sword and everything. He exchanged a brief and wordlessly look with everyone until he came to a stop when his eyes found Robb lastly. Finally, the two pair of eyes met again, blue on grey and grey on blue, and that alone said more between them than nothing ever could.

"Jon…" Robb breathed, standing up. His lips turned into a warm smile instantly, one he reserved only to his brothers and sisters. Theon, sitting right next to him, only laded his head annoyingly to the side.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, my Lords…" Jon began courteously. He welcomed all the strangled looks together on him with almost military deference, like his Father had taught him.

"Stark Two is here!" The Greatjon roared before he could go on and was joined by most of Robb's bannermen at once.

Jon was indeed more surprised now than before. He hadn't expected to be received like that. He was a bastard nonetheless, and a deserter too in their eyes. Surely, the Great Lords still didn't know of his secret concerning his vows to the Night's Watch, vows which do not longer exist and yet he had chosen to remain fealty to them. He waited until the half drunk chorus in his name could cease but a cold voice did that for him first.

"He's not a Stark. He's a bastard." Theon claimed in a low voice, but Jon heard him still.

"Mother, look!" Dacey Mormont observed, next to her mother Lady Maege Mormont. "He's carrying our House's ancestral sword Longclaw. He's the man Uncle Jeor sent us."

"So he did keep his word." Lady Mormont chuckled, watching him like a member of her family. "You're the new owner of my Brother's sword. Welcome, Jon Snow."

"Is this true?" Lord Hornwood asked, shifting his eyes between Jon and Robb. "Lord Commander Mormont sent one of his own?"

"It is, Lord Hornwood." Robb answered him, eyeing Theon especially. "He has all right to be here as any of us."

"It is only the interest of the Night's Watch what brings me here, my lords." Jon explained plainly. "Lord Commander Mormont doesn't think it's legit for the crown to self appropriate one of the only remaining Valyrian Swords in The North, Ice. By law, it belongs in The North, to protect its people from the threats which lay Beyond the Wall. I'm here to help in my brother's cause and fight to bring it back, if necessary."

"Ice, huh?" The Greatjon did an approving grunt. "That's alright, boy. We all expect to get our hands on something from that Red Keep for what they did to your father."

"My Lords…" Robb raised respectfully his voice over them. "Would you be so kind to leave me a moment alone with my brother."

The Northern Lords and their sons rose from their seats and bowed. As they passed next to Jon most of them patted his shoulder fatherly or exchanged a few courtesy words with him, gestures he returned kindly. But Theon Greyjoy only watched him harshly and dashed off, without a word. Finally Jon and Robb stood there alone, face to face.

For a moment, only the clatter from steel against steel and the sound of chopping wood echoed faintly and alone inside the walls. Robb's eyes were shining so brightly that if the Ice Dragon wasn't inside of them, it was very close. The next moment, he closed the distance between them and hugged Jon with a tight grip, pressing his eyes shut against his fur. Jon's arms circled him, his hands buried in the soft auburn curls protectively with the gusts of wind only bringing them closer. When they pulled back, both smiled like they haven't seen each other in years probably.

"I never thought you'd be in the rearguard." Robb joked lightly, still with a hand in his brother's shoulder.

"Very funny." Jon retorted and his frown suddenly deepened. "You left me no choice. If you had told me everything from the beginning, I would've gotten here sooner."

"You know I couldn't do that. It was never my intention to drag you out of the Night's Watch and take you into a bloody campaign with me. I wanted you to follow your own decisions because…" Robb hesitated and searched for his eyes before continue. "I just need to be sure you won't regret this."

"I won't." Jon assured him. "I will never regret this. This is my place, Robb. By your side, always…"

"Well, it's not too late you know." Robb murmured. "Soon I will have to start the negotiations with Walder Frey. I can't imagine any man in his right mind to be willingly up for something like th-"

"Robb." Jon cut him, taking a step forward and clutching his face between his hands. "Stop trying to ease this for me. You can leave that for your bannermen but not for me. Tell me, honestly. What are we up against?"

Robb drifted his eyes away.

"Something bigger than you and me." He confessed after a silence and his blue eyes burned with brutal truth.

Jon said nothing. He knew Robb was right. After this moment there would be no place for mistakes or retreats, because it could mean great losses for both of them. And, being so close, he was reading even worse things inside his brother's eyes. One faulty step and their father and sisters' lives would be in danger forever. One rough breath and embers would stir beneath the earth, consuming everything with high tongues of red fire. The Lannisters army's advance was now measured in hundred of meters not miles, with fresh troops renewed from the West front continuously so it was only a matter of time for the castles in the Riverlands to perish whether after a nasty fighting or a hopeless resignation. Towns and villages near Stone Hedge had been plagued with the worst part of The Mountain's raiding, earth and houses put to the torch and any chance of fighting back was severely evacuated. And Jon knew the North was next. Robb and his men were not likely to surrender a single piece of it, it wasn't in his brother's nature to retreat even when armed with only a wooden sword, but the enemy's bulk was growing larger against their daily thinner southern line flank. The days to come were not very promising.

"Even if it's as big as you say, you have very good generals by your side. Either you go against Tywin Lannister or the Kingslayer, these men will follow you into battle just like they did for Father before. And…" He stopped, feeling a whip of fire burning in his throat. "I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."

Robb half-smiled. He turned away from Jon and picked up the map from the table, rolling it securely between his gauntleted hands.

"I should be the one who says that. I'm your older brother." He admitted, looking at him with curls falling before his eyes. "If this goes as I planned we won't have to worry. But I will need the Riverlords support first and to do that I must break the siege, at any cost."

"And this implies convincing Lord Frey as well." Jon recalled.

"He's my mother's bannerman. I believe she doesn't trust any Frey but if I'm granted an audience at The Twins I will make sure to do everything I can to convince him."

"Just like you convinced Lord Commander Mormont?" Jon said, amusingly. Robb did a distracted nod, but his voice turned rather nostalgic then.

"It didn't work for our younger brothers though."

"I know." Jon seconded. "I stopped at Winterfell in my way here. They miss their mother."

"I told my mother specifically she should go to Winterfell. Bran and Rickon need her more than I do here but she just wouldn't listen. She's been fearing for the girls too." He sighed remorsefully. "That's why I have to do this. For them and Father."

By this Jon knew he was referring to the deal with Walder Frey, the campaign against Tywin Lannister and the also not so inspiring retaking of Riverrun. Every mile he had endured in this journey was for every time this war sprouted a new and more slippery front, and it wasn't yet done. He stopped to look at Robb extensively and admired how much his brother had grown up in these few days they haven't seen each other. His features seemed to be carved with a knife now, his beard was like his but rusty and his brow was more curved into a frown than usual, altogether made him a very realistic and younger copy of their Father. The solemnity in his eyes was a promise that each lesson Lord Stark had invested on them would not be in vain. Jon smiled lightly and satisfied.

"You are like him." He whispered. "I'm sure he is very proud of you right now."

A pang of pain assaulted Robb's face for the first time since their meeting. Pain and fear but Jon wasn't sure because Robb hid it very fast as usual. But it was there still and Jon wondered since when it had been there. He turned his back on him again but this time his body was half claimed by darkness, only a brilliant orange line cut his frame from it. Something was wrong.

"I'm not like him." Robb admitted, barely audible. "Not after what I did."

Jon's eyes widened. The shadows inside the walls were shifting and for a moment, he swore a wolf had replaced his brother's shape. A wolf like him, like the ones that lived inside both of them, like the ones that were running to face lions away from their home. He was prepared for this moment, nothing else had plagued his mind since he left The Night's Watch but this was far more real than he had anticipated in the first place and he found himself white and inert, like Winterfell's practice dummies. All those moments when Robb tried to reveal the truth were spiraling inside his head, the clearest of all was at the woods and Jon recited to himself the words he had heard that night. "I should've told him everything. I should've told him about the sword and about this. Even though, I don't know if he'll believe me." Now nothing seemed more exact than this. Nothing fit more perfectly, not even the sea and the shore. Not even north and winter.

"I'm sorry." Robb continued, almost scaring him. "I shouldn't have said-"

"No…" Jon interrupted him, and his eyes pierced through his with unknown shades of grey. His blood was running so fast he felt his cheeks burning up. "Robb… I… I kno-"

"Robb!" Theon's urgent voice hit them both the same. Neither of them had noticed his presence till now.

"What?" Robb turned to him, bluntly.

"Your mother is here." He told him, in a dutiful tone. "She wants to see you."

A/N: Hi! I want to thank all the people who read this story and gave it an opportunity. Please, leave me a review if you can. I would like to read your opinions and impressions of it.