Noxious Snow

Part 6

"Arya!" Snow shouted, only managing to distract her attention as she turned to look at him, not used to the sound of danger in someone's voice. Jon didn't think twice as he ran forwards and shoved his little sister out the way of the oncoming arrow. The commotion alerted Robb and Ned as Robb quickly caught sight of the assailant and launched a small dagger of his own at the target, hitting him precisely in the eye. Jon looked down at his sister finding no arrow which made him internally sigh in relief. His little sister was safe. It wasn't until he noticed her wide eyes and where they were locked onto that he finally felt the sharp pain in the lower left side of his chest. Hesitantly he looked down, seeing the head of the arrow buried deep between two of his lower ribs. At that moment the shock made itself evident as the muscles in Jon's legs gave out and he dropped to his knees with a slight tremor. Snow frantically told himself to remain calm in his head, that this really wasn't as bad as it seemed, the fact that he was still breathing or the fact that his heart was still beating strong told him that he wasn't dead yet nor was he going to die anytime soon.

"Jon!" Eddard yelled, panic filling his every nerve at the image of something he never wanted to see. The protective father rushed forwards and dropped to his knees to curl an arm around his son's shoulders to hold him up. Robb too darted over, finding himself holding his breath as he took sight of his brother and the long arrow shaft that stuck out of him.

"It's ok Jon, you're going to be alright," Ned soothed, worried by the fact that Jon seemed to be still lost in a daze.

"Arya go to my pack there should be a roll of bandage, ointment and some other supplies," Eddard ordered. It took a repeat of the instruction for Arya to break out of her trance, as Ned knew she needed the biggest distraction and didn't need to have the image of Jon like this burnt into her memory for the rest of her life.

"Ouch," Jon finally spoke sounding surprisingly calm, it was all act, to fool himself into thinking that he was totally fine as he began to realise the severity of the wound. Snow grimaced as he was helped by Ned and Robb to lie down, now feeling the jolt of agony with each breath he took.

"Just stay calm, I'll have that arrow out of you in no time," Eddard reassured managing to sound as sincere as possible to not frighten Jon any further.

"It's not even that bad brother, I'm fairly certain you've taken worse during sparring," Robb then added trying to ease his sibling's clear state of anxiety.

"Worse than getting shot?" Jon half joked with shaky words, managing to at least accomplish a small curl at his lips as he looked up at the slightly older Stark.

Arya returned hastily, handing to her father the supplies he had asked for before taking her place at Jon's other side.

"Alright, Jon I need you to listen, this is going to hurt but I need to you close your eyes, relax and take a deep breath, can you do that for me?" Eddard encouraged leaning over to get a better view of the arrow which he needed to remove without it snapping. Jon nodded, but before he closed his eyes he felt both his hands being lifted up off the ground; his left being held tightly by Robb who just gave him a reassuring nod and his right being held between both Arya's smaller hands as she managed to hold back the tears in her eyes for a comforting smile. The gestures were heart-warming and it made Jon feel stronger knowing that they both cared for him deeply and unconditionally. He then closed his eyes and took a deep breath finding solace in the warmth of his sibling's kindness. Ned inwardly beamed at his children knowing that he didn't even need to ask them to do what they did for their brother, showing their profound bond.

Seeing Jon's discomfort, Lord Stark carefully wrapped his fingers around the shaft, mentally counting down to three before pulling the tip out. Jon winced, barely masking a cry of pain by biting his lip as the sharp end was removed leaving behind a small but deep bleeding incision.

"Robb, put pressure on the wound, it's going to need stitches," Ned ordered tossing him a small rag which Robb easily caught with his free hand and pressed against the seeping crimson. Before Ned tossed away the dreaded arrow, something caught his attention: a scent. One that he recognised which instantly made his skin crawl. As he turned his eyes to the arrow tip he noticed a difference in colour between the metal used and the tint of the pointed end which appeared as though had been dipped into something before firing.

"Poison, the arrow was poisoned," Ned muttered in disbelief as he angrily chucked the thing out of his sight. He knew this poison and what it did, it was a fairly common Wildling poison, but rather unheard of on this side of the wall.

"What?" The flash of terror in Robb's blue irises was so severe it was almost like a bolt of lightning had struck the deep ocean. Jon appeared to be too stunned to even react to that knowledge but to Robb and Arya they knew it had frightened him as his grip had tightened significantly along with the tremor.

"Will he be alright!?" Arya then interrogated glancing between Jon and her father. Ned ran a stressed hand down his face as he searched for the best answer he could.

"The poison is slow acting but brutal, used for those who escape the Wildlings for multiple purposes from entertainment to using a supposed surviving target lead them to whatever they seek before eventually dying, the problem is there isn't a cure for it in Winterfell but there is Kings Landing...however that's nearly a week's ride away from here," Ned described, not liking the turn this trip has taken at all. He instead focused on tying the silk around the needle deciding it best not to tell Jon of the effects the substance would have.

"How long does the poison usually take to…?" Robb couldn't even finish his sentence with a word and instead swallowed hard, not wanting to think about the answer.

"About a week," Ned then responded plainly, "it means we have no time to take a detour back to Winterfell and I'm not letting Arya go back alone, it will be too dangerous for us to split up…Arya you're going to have to come with us to Kings Landing." Usually hearing that she could come on such a trip would have the young girl jumping in delight, but under the circumstances she really didn't feel all that excited anymore.

"Are you sure it's safe to take Arya along with us?" Jon finally spoke, needing to change the topic on his own mind so instead of worrying about his own safety he decided to worry about that of his sisters, after all it was worrying over her that got him shot in the first place – though it wouldn't matter how many times he would replay the event, he would have always reacted the same.

"No, but I've seen it with my own eyes…Arya is capable of defending herself, she saved my life…anyone would be a fool to underestimate her," Ned smiled at Arya with commendation, "perhaps giving her a sword Jon was rather a good idea."

"You knew?" Jon uttered, digging his elbows into the ground to prop himself up to look at his father with a slightly guilty expression.

"Of course I knew, Jon, I'm a father, it's my job to know," Ned said smugly as he gestured for Robb to move the cloth away from the wound. The sodden piece of fabric was taken away and Ned began to undo the clasps on Snow's tunic to get a better view of the injury which probably wouldn't take very long to suture.

"Robb you might want to clean up your own cut as well, you don't want to get an infection," Eddard reminded, one son staring death in the face was bad enough.

"All done," Ned stated, finishing of his round with the roll of bandage. Jon let out the breath he had been holding feeling the sting slightly easing off as he secured his tunic back up. The word poison replayed over in his mind, it was weird because at the present moment he felt fine apart from the actual wound, everything he had heard about the substance made him think that by now he should have been coughing up his own insides. Maybe that would have been easier than waiting for the terror to start, still at the same time he should have been thankful that he had time left at all.

"Robb, what are you doing?" Eddard asked as he watched his eldest son reel up his bedroll.

"Packing," came the eldest Stark son's reply.

"What for?" Ned frowned, as Robb told his younger sister to get up and start packing herself – not that she moved and instead looked at her father with confusion.

"What for?" Robb frowned with incredulity, "father we should be making haste to Kings Landing, not wasting Jon's precious time by waiting here, you said so yourself we have a week and it takes a week to get to there."

"It's the middle of the night Robb, it's too dangerous to travel nor is it wise to do so with such little sleep," Ned argued, with experience on his shoulders he knew better than to rush blindly forwards. Sure, he would rather have spent night and day travelling if it meant that it would work and he could guarantee his whole families survival in doing so, but he could not and therefore could not risk it.

"But father–!?"

"Father's right Robb…what would happen if we got ambushed again on the road? We wouldn't see it coming in the dark and you know that's when Wildlings like to hunt and if we don't rest, we'll be easy targets," Jon interrupted, he didn't want to endanger the rest of them, with a skull already on his head, having the burden of others would be too much to bear.

"But Jon!?" The Stark heir continued.

"I'll be fine," Snow reassured, deciding he would too believe in that remark. Robb let out a loud sigh as he moved away from his horse and sat himself back down near the still burning campfire, kicking a black charred twig back into the fire's clasp.

"You know what they say about Starks?" Ned then proclaimed trying to lighten the mood as he looked past three sullen faces.

"That Starks are hard to kill," Jon finished mindlessly, right as Arya shifted closer to him and curled her own arm around his much larger one before pressing her cheek up against his fur swathed shoulder.

"Exactly, we are all here of Stark blood whether it by name or by birth," Eddard reminded, managing to raise a little of the spirit around him as his children each managed to produce a small smile, "well I'm going to go move these bodies away from the clearing, Robb you're on next watch, the rest of you get some sleep."

"I'll be taking Jon's watch as well," Robb added, finally noticing the distinct smell of iron in the air which wasn't all that pleasant.

"What? Robb I'm still more than capable of taking watch," Jon claimed, not liking the idea of suddenly being seen as some invalid.

"I agree with Robb, you're going to need all your strength, you may feel alright right no but once that poison sets in, it's only going to go downhill from there, I'll take double watch tomorrow night," Lord Stark decided. Snow grumbled under his breath but didn't argue with his father's decision, knowing far better than to do such an impolite thing – plus there was no chance of him ever winning.

As Ned Stark grabbed hold of the legs of a dead Wildling and began dragging the limp corpse away from the clearing, Jon shifted over to his bedroll, ignoring the pulsating throb in his chest that ached with each movement. Arya collected hers (well her father's – Ned now borrowing Robb's) and placed it even closer to Jon's than before. Jon lay down, looking up at the starry sky wondering how many bright lights twinkled up there and how far away they were from where he was. It was a silly thought, but it remained a hold on his mind nonetheless. Arya settled down beside him before shuffling closer and draping her arm over his chest, clutching at his tunic – being careful to miss the injury. Jon tuned his head to look at his sister, not really minding that she wanted to snuggle up to him like this.

"Please don't die…" she whispered before resting her head on his collar.

"I won't," Jon Snow muttered.