Hi, I thought the previous chapter did not have enough of anything in it so here is the next update. This one is pretty long. I know I've been abusing Jon Snow, well in this one, he's getting braver.. or fed up. :)
I do hope you like this, and few more chapters to go.
Enjoy reading! Ciao!
JON
"I think it's time to change the dressing on that wound, Jon. The new horses can smell your blood." Arya said, looking distastefully at his hand swathed with a piece of cloth he found in the kitchen. They were at the stables, Jon feeding the horses Ser Jory brought home from the wild.
He did not bring it to Maester last night for he thought it was too late of night. And Lady Stark directed him not to tell the events of last night. He decided that letting the maester see his wound will raise questions and doubts. Jon would rather much keep it to himself than come up with a lie.
"Don't fret about it, Arya. Ser Jory said they were covered in blood when he found the lot, their riders might have been killed on top of them." He continued lifting hays with the pitchfork, wincing at every boost.
Arya crinkled her nose. "Where did you get that cut, anyway?" she asked, sitting on a barrel beside the haystack.
He remembered last night, how he saw Lady Stark cried at the edge of the valley. He had kept himself hidden in the small cove. He grew afraid when she was leaning forward to the edge. He thought the lady was contemplating killing herself, and decided, against his right mind, to approach.
Jon almost missed her hand when the lady slipped. He blamed himself for startling the lady, panicking her, making her fall over.
He was filled with fear thinking how his brothers and sisters would suddenly become motherless.
Jon recalled how the lady's weight and the slippery earth were also dragging him onto the edge. It was fortunate that he reached the lamp and he had enough time to break and stab it onto the floor and used it to hold onto as he pulled the lady up.
He did not feel the pain in his hand until he was told by the lady that she wished to not be seen with him. He was pulled back into his reality.
Jon did not hope for much, not even gratitude. But he hoped for at least an acknowledgement of how important the lady was to him, that he would risk his own life for her.
But it did not matter. It did not change anything.
"Uhm, I was helping Mikken last night. I was startled, and then sliced my hand with a sharp dagger." He lied, looking at the dirty dressing. He rearranged it, careful not to mess it up more.
"Where is Koreen? I haven't seen her during breakfast." Arya asked.
Jon looked at Arya, picked the pitchfork once more and stabbed the hay for transfer.
He had been thinking of Koreen. She was pregnant, he still cannot believe. They were still so young. And the fact that Robb was to be betrothed for lineage made her worried for her more.
"You ask too many questions." He flung the hay over the wooden cart.
"You never complained before." She jested.
"Aren't you supposed to be in sewing classes right now?" Jon questioned.
"Aren't you supposed to be in swords?" Arya replied, smartly.
Jon did not feel like going to his classes today. He was not ready to face Robb. And it was not like Ser Rodrik will be looking for him. He would just think that Lady Stark gave him orders.
"I heard father was home last night, and then he had gone again. Did you see him last night, Jon?" Arya was curious.
Jon recalled his confession. "Yes. We got the chance to talk. Well, he's home now, did you not know?" Jon was already at the stables when he heard the bell. Lord Star was already inside the castle when he arrived to meet him.
"I know, I heard the bell and ran down as fast as I could. But he went straight to the Maester. Is it true that Father and Mother fought?"
"…If you hurt Jon ever again, I will leave Winterfell to Robb… and I will take Jon with me."
"I don't know. It's rude to eavesdrop on anyone, Arya." He answered. Jon felt guilty, he couldn't even look at his little sister in the eyes.
Jon felt Arya's eyes fixated on him. "Sansa said they fought about you." Arya uttered.
"That's not new, sister." Jon admitted.
Arya then became quiet, making Jon glance at her carefully.
His sister gazed at him with apologetic stare. "I'm sorry about mother, Jon. I don't know much about what's happening about you and her, but I notice things." She uttered innocently. "I notice how you don't eat with us when father is not home. I notice how you call all of us our title whenever mother is around. I may be young but I'm not stupid, you know."
"Nobody thinks you are stupid, Arya." Jon was sorry for making Arya felt bad about him.
"Well, mother is." She quickly uttered, taking Jon aback.
Jon was fast to call Arya on it. "Don't say that about your mother." He told.
"Why can't she understand that it was not your fault that you are a bastard? It's not like you had a choice. Like me having no choice but to be a lady just because I was born a girl and a daughter of a lord and a lady."
Jon has always known how Arya detested her lessons with Septa Mordane. But she had loved to study archery, and she was gifted with marksmanship.
"You don't need to be a lady, if you do not want to, Arya. But you should be grateful for the privileges of your name. Take advantage of it." Jon advised, getting back to his job.
"Well, if I don't need to be a lady, then you don't need to be a bastard… unless you want to, right?" Jon looked on Arya, remorseful. He didn't think opinion will be thrown back at him, by a little girl for that matter.
"My name has no privilege at all, Arya. It's more of a curse." Jon plainly said.
"Stark is no different from Snow, Jon. We both hate our names."
"Stark is father's name, he's an honorable man. The most honorable man I know. You should be proud of it, Arya." Jon spoke truthfully.
"Are you proud of it? Being father's bastard?" Arya did not mean any offense, he was sure. She was just a child curious of her surroundings, he reflected.
"No. I'm not. But I always thank the Gods that he is my father. I could be anyone else's bastard. I am fortunate, I am his."
Arya looked at her brother with much love. He smiled back and mussed her already unruly hair.
"Ugh! Stop it!" Arya laughed when Jon tickled her side.
"Look at you, Arya! No wonder you're always dirty by afternoon." Sansa interrupted their play. "Septa Mordane has been looking everywhere for you." She announced with a face of displeasure.
"Oh, you're a snob and a half, Sansa. Worry not; I shall surprise you a hug later before I take my bath." She stick out her tongue to her and ran to the castle, leaving Sansa behind.
"Maester Luwin was also looking for you, Jon. He said you meet him in his sick bay." She said, turning to go back.
"Thank you. I'll get there as soon as I'm finished here." Jon said.
"Be done with it, I'm not your messenger." Sansa uttered above her shoulder.
"Of course, I'm sorry." Jon whispered.
Jon was quick with his chore, especially without Arya distracting him.
"You should have brought this to me, Jon." Maester Luwin removed the piece of clothing wrapped around his right hand. It was soaked with blood and dirtied with grime.
Jon grimaced as the wrapping was removed. "It was so late, Maester. I didn't want to disturb you." He winced. He didn't bother looking at it last night. He just washed it with warm water as he stayed the whole night in the kitchen.
"I had trouble sleeping after what I learned, Jon. You, boys had kept me awake of worry." Maester Luwin lifted his hand, as he meticulously checked the deep wound.
"I'm sorry." He apologized for the events that put the old man in an awkward spot. Although Jon did not say it directly, Maester Luwin seemed to understand his apology.
"What happened to your hand, Jon?" Maester asked as he looked in his cabinet for the saline to clean the injury.
"I-i was sharpening a dagger, it slipped." Jon stuttered. He just couldn't master lying, he admitted.
"Of course," the maester gave a look of suspicion. Jon met his gaze. There were many times he had lied to maester about his wounds, but he knew the maester never really believed. Most of the time he didn't bother bringing to him injuries he received, it was much better than lying to the old man.
The two of them looked at the door that suddenly burst open. Lady Catelyn then entered as Jon looked down, trying not to meet the lady's gaze.
"Do you need anything, my lady?" Maester Luwin asked inquisitively.
"I need to speak to him, maester. If you don't mind."
"No, of course not. It's just that Jon needs his wound cleaned and dressed, my lady. I can send him to your study as soon as we are done." Maester said without taking off his look at her.
The lady came near them and took the saline solution and the gauze from Maester Luwin.
"I'm afraid this cannot wait, Maester." She looked at maester in the eyes. "I have raised five children, I do not require education in cleaning and dressing wounds to the hand." Her look was challenging, commanding.
"As you wish, Lady Stark. I shall be outside if you need my assistance." Maester Luwin conceded and took a concerned look at Jon.
"Kindly close the door, Luwin. The guards will take you to the kitchen, Luna steeped some jasmine tea from Dorne. Save some for me, will you?" Lady Stark requested when the maester was at the door, while her eyes were fixed on Jon.
"Certainly, Lady Stark." He slightly bowed before exiting and closing the door.
Jon felt the grim look Lady Stark afforded him. He swallowed nervously, still staring down. He barely felt the lady approached him.
"Give me your hand." She commanded.
Jon held out his wounded hand and she took it over the shallow basin on the table. His hand was cold, he knew. He flinched when Lady Stark generously poured salt water on his wound. Jon bit his lip so that he won't cry out of pain.
Lady Stark looked at his face. Jon looked down after seeing his stepmother staring at him. He had never looked at Lady Stark this close before. In fact, she had never held his hand as far as he can remember.
Her hands though were soft and warm to the touch.
"Did you ever wonder about your future, Jon?" she asked, while she gently unfolded the thin roll of gauze.
Jon thought it was a trick question, asked to him as an insult.
"M-my lady?" he wanted to make sure he heard correctly.
Lady stark started with his thumb, wrapping the cloth around it. "Time goes by so fast, do you have any plans for the future?" she asked once more, eyes fixed on his wrapping.
Jon searched for an answer. "N-no, my lady."
Lady Stark didn't seem surprised. She knew his answer.
"So all you have is the hope that I stay kind to let you live in our castle?" she wrapped the gauze around his palm. "Don't you have dreams to have some sort of legacy that will bring yourself a bit of honor? Do you not dream of having a family of your own, so that you stop cramming yourself into the house of Stark?" her offence stung. "Do you not desire to attain a trickle of dignity?" She continued binding his injury, making sure the wound is closed and the dressing tight.
Jon grew indignant. How can she offend him when she was dressing the wound he sustained from saving her life?
"I'm sorry if I thought myself welcome to the castle, considering Lord Stark is my father." Jon said with defiance. He was still scared, but she was asking questions, he was to answer. "I've always dreamt of bringing honor to the house. I try to learn all that was taught to me, however little lesson I get." Jon paused. He swallowed apprehensively before mustering another word. "I have dreamt of having a family of my own, one who would not detest my existence, my lady. I have imagined myself holding even a smear of pride, but all my efforts are in vain." He humbly declared.
"Koreen is pregnant. Robb told me-"
"I am not the father, Lady Stark. Robb is." Jon cut her off. He felt where her interrogations were heading. "I'm so sorry, but I will no more take responsibility for your son's mistake."
He did not care what Robb had told his mother. He felt Lady Stark's hands getting colder as she continued to dress his cut.
"Robb has his future fixed for him…" she said, wrapping his wounds a little less tightly than before. "He cannot take a wildling wife. And I cannot take in another bastard child." Her voice was breaking, her words slightly stuttering.
Jon remained stern, although his hands were starting to tremble. "But I cannot take anymore faults that are not my own…" he argued. It was odd for him to reason out to the lady. And it was stranger to feel her closeness to him. She could be warm, he realized.
Catelyn tucked the end of the bandage underneath the layer under his thumb, looking at Jon's eyes after.
"This is going to break your father's heart." She declared before heaving a sigh.
Jon initially felt guilty, but soon realized that he had done nothing wrong.
"No, my lady. Robb is going to break father's heart." Jon corrected.
Jon was stunned when the lady held his hand, she wept.
"I know I don't deserve a favor from you, Jon. But please…" she cried, whipered, appealed to his stepson.
Jon was covered with confusion. Robb cannot take a wildling wife, the lady cannot take another bastard in the castle…
"Your request is too demanding, my lady. This will also hurt Robb, he loves her." He protested. He didn't know if Lady Stark knew of Robb's feelings towards Koreen, but she had to know.
"The sooner you leave with Koreen, the sooner you'll both get used to your new lives. I will help you start a life away from here, where no one will recognize you as a Snow. You can start your life once more, Jon. You can lead your life however you want it." She bargained.
The lady's proposition was tempting, a new leaf of life was more than any bastard can hope for. But when he thought of his father, Arya, Bran and Rickon… even Robb and Sansa, his heart breaks.
"You're asking me to leave home and forget about the people I love, Lady Stark. Please, have mercy…" he begged, he had too few people that he loved. Nevertheless, he loved them greatly. He let go of the tears brimming his eyes.
"You're my only hope. My family has crumbled because of you, Jon. I'm afraid I need you to leave for it to be fixed." She still hit his guilt. But she was known to tell the truth.
He wished they have been cruel to him more, that they were all unkind to him since he was a child, that they did not let him harbor love and care for any of them. It would have been easy to just runaway.
Jon looked down. And thought of his father's face, Arya's laughter, Bran's playfulness… Jon cried. He immediately wiped his tears. He did not think Lady Stark would care of his agony.
"For years, I have prayed every day and every night… I prayed for Father's protection, for your change of heart, and for my mother who I do not know…" Jon sniffed, "The Gods are a lot kinder to you than to me, my lady..."
Jon has finally given up.
"If my presence is causing you too much pain, I will leave Winterfell. I can take Koreen with me, I can take care of her and your future grandchild. But I have made a promise to Father, Lady Stark. I promised that I shall not leave the kingdom without his permission. I trust that you will ask him, so we can be on our way as soon as possible..." Jon looked at Lady Stark who was stunned. She did not think that he will ask for a term in his leave.
"Thank you for cleaning up my wound, my lady. I shall never forget about this moment as the first time you called me by my name… Pardon me." Jon then stood up and headed out of the door.
"Jon…" Catelyn called out his name, making him stop to the door, he met her teary gaze. "I'm so sorry, Jon." Her voice was trembling.
Jon nodded, opened the door and let himself out.
His heart was racing. He was miserable.
He went straight to the room where Septa Mordane was teaching the girls, hoping he would see Koreen. But she was not there. He even caught Arya looking at him, puzzled.
He then proceeded to the kitchen where he found Koreen sitting together with Maester Luwin and Lord Stark, sipping teas.
Jon paused, composed himself.
"Father. Maester." He bowed slightly to greet them.
Lord Stark gazed at him carefully. Jon was breathing hard, and his forehead dotted with sweat.
"Let me check your hand, son." Maester took his hand and looked at his wrapped palm.
"What happened to it, Jon?" Lord Stark asked.
Jon exhaled before answering, "It was cut by a broken glass lamp, Father." His father looked at him, brows furrowed, "I do not lie to you, Father."
"I trust your words, Jon." He declared.
He swallowed, "May I please speak with Koreen?"
"What's the matter?" Lord Stark questioned.
"Nothing father… I just wanted to show Koreen the steed Ser Jory brought home. I thought she might like to see how to tame a wild horse."
Ned studied his face, "All right, be on your way, and be back before supper."
"We will, father." He bowed before the two and left together with Koreen who was still confused.
Jon brought Koreen to the stable, he checked if they were alone. He faced Koreen when he was sure no one was there.
"Lady Stark knows you're pregnant." Jon uttered.
Koreen fell silent. "Maester? Did he tell?"
Jon shook his head no. "She said Robb told her." He answered.
Koreen held on to her belly. She felt nauseated, perplexed.
Jon touched her head. Comforted her in ways he knew. "It's going to be alright, Koreen."
"No, it's not! Stop saying that! Robb asked me to marry him, I said no! I would ruin him…" Koreen was frantic, tears overflowing her eyes.
"Your babe needs a father, I can be that, Koreen." Jon suggested.
"What?" Koreen asked in disbelief.
Jon held her face, "You do not need to marry me, you don't need to name your babe after me, I live a hard life. But we can leave Winterfell together."
"Your family, what about your family?" she asked him, more confused than before.
"I'm not a Stark." Jon once again admitted.
Koreen looked at Jon's eyes. She knew she needed to leave, she was just scared for her child. But if Jon was with him…
"When do we leave?" she asked, determined.
"I'll tell you as soon as I know." Jon answered. He knew Lady Stark may or may not keep her word about telling his father. But he was grateful for the time he can buy to prepare.
It may be too compulsive, but he was filled with anger and misery to care. He wiped Koreen's tears and hugged her tightly.
"So, this is what it feels like to be betrayed, brother…"