"What are Valyrians? Foolish things, worthless slaves. Killers and hunters of their own kin; worshippers of false idols. What are Valyrians? A pestilence; a commodity of labor overgrown; a people who have become the thorny weed amongst wheat. They exist only to be killed."

-Empress Dhatigara, Ghiscari ruler during the latter portion of the Ghis-Valyrian Wars.

GAME OF THRONES

JON

Jon allowed Robb further into his chambers. Robb's nose scrunched, no doubt smelling the vomit that was balled amongst Jon's sullied laundry within its sheepskin sack.

Robb.

He was adorned richly. A dark velvet tunic hugged Robb's chest, while his black cape, flared at the neck, stretched from the high of his wide back to the edge of onyx boots. His hair was loose, long and vibrant, as it pooled on either side of his shoulders. Jon lowered his head, gray eyes narrowing.

"What is it?" He asked harshly.

Robb's eyebrow raised- a small grin painted his face. Annoyance and superiority radiated from him, infuriating Jon.

"Do you remember what Father told us- in the Godswood." Robb started, inclining his head towards Jon.

Ghost crept underneath the bed as the bastard responded.

"Of course." He replied.

Robb inhaled deeply. He turned away from Jon, cape flowing behind. Robb paced to the window, standing before it for some time despite the chill.

What's going on?

After the dream Jon had, after even Theon's stupid warning... this, this specifically, felt like too much.

Jon's chest tightened.

"Things are not as secure as they may seem." Robb said, head bowed.

Jon flashed back to the night he had spoken with Theon, the ironborn's warning flashing across a troubled mind.

He almost blurted Theon's words- but cautious nature prevailed above paranoia. Despite this, however-

Jon's heart pounded.

Is... my life really in danger?

Fear..

Anger!

indignation-

All of those emotions welled up within Jon. he remained silent, gray eyes darkening.

Robb continued.

"Father... he spoke to us three specifically. He trusted us, he knew- or assumed- that we would keep his words to those of us he chose to address directly."

Robb turned halfway to regard Jon, blue eyes nearly glowing.

"Us three. You, Arya and I. No one else."

His voice rang with accusation.

Jon scoffed, not knowing what to say. He was no fool-

Something had clearly happened.

He had spoken about father's warning to Bran... and encouraged Arya to see what Sansa was told. As it turned out, neither Bran or Sansa were approached by Father.

A chill passed through Jon.

Had one of them said something?

Bran could've possibly- however, if Sansa decided to boredly speak about Arya's rambunctiousness to her friends...

Realization settled in upon Jon, his eyes widening.

"There are murmurs... jokes amongst the noble ladies amongst Winterfell, those close to Sansa." Robb said, his eyes focused on Jon.

"They say he's scared of the King. Say that he's prepared for the King to perform some ill deed here."

Jon looked away from Robb.

"Father said that himself days ago."

Robb stomped forward on one boot, his mouth turning.

"To us."

Robb then took another step closer.

"To you and I." He said silently.

Jon felt like a fool. Of course Father wouldn't have wanted him to discuss what was said in the Godswood with Bran-

Let alone encourage Arya to say things to Sansa.

Jon...

He curled his hands into tight fists, shame washing over him.

I didn't- I didn't think things would evolve like this-

"What else has been said?" Jon asked quietly, retreating to his bed before sitting upon it.

Ghost scampered from underneath it, pooling at Jon's feet before the boy picked up the direwolf, placing Ghost beside his thigh.

"The girls with whom Sansa tutors belong to noble families. Many of them have links to the south." Robb said.

Jon sighed, putting hands over a swirling head.

"And I'm sure their fathers and mothers say worse things than me, especially with what they know."

Robb laughed derisively.

"That isn't the matter. You and I are both growing older. Something is bothering Father, something about the King. Secrets, sensitive ones, are prattled daily by those who shouldn't. This situation... something about it feels different." Robb said.

Robb's voice then grew softer.

"Even to me."

Jon was silent for some time.

Finally, he spoke.

"What does us growing older have to do with anything else?" Jon asked.

"Because you are a bastard." Robb said simply.

Jon lowered his hands, smiling bitterly.

"I didn't ask to be."

Robb looked away from Jon.

"I know."

Jon shuddered.

"I don't want what's yours, Robb."

After speaking, Jon regarded Robb sadly.

Robb replied with a confused expression, spurring Jon to continue.

"I don't want Winterfell. I don't want anything." As Jon spoke, he felt despair tugging at his throat, causing words to crack against Robb's resolute demeanor.

"It's not about what you want." Robb's eyes hardened.

"It's about everything else. Everything that is at stake. I know that you didn't want it to be this way. I didn't want it either."

Jon met Robb's eyes again. Robb continued, not dropping an opposing gaze.

"This is the reality we have been dealt. And we cannot afford actions like yours. You'd be surprised by how little it takes for a kingdom to fall. For a family like ours to come into harm."

Silence crossed the space between Jon and Robb for some time.

Outside, the winds began picking up, gusts of it whipping against frozen glass.

He's right.

Jon glanced towards the window. He noticed flurries of snow beginning to billow as they passed by.

The bastard smiled.

Similarities held with a wayward flake of ice became readily apparent to him then.

"I haven't told Father. There would be no point to. I'm sure he's already aware of the mumblings here." Robb said finally.

Jon closed gray eyes, lowering his head. Long hair tickled the bottom of cold ears.

All the while Robb watched on, gaze steeled.

"So you'll spare him the knowledge of my direct involvement." Jon said bitterly.

Robb gave a short chuckle.

"For now."

Jon watched as Robb looked about sparse chambers, cape softly whistling as it was carried across the stone floor.

"We are not enemies, Jon. However, I will not let tragedy befall my family."

Robb turned to face Jon, face seemingly written over in stone.

"I understand your circumstances. Due to that, I hope that you understand mine." Robb spoke softly, making way from Jon's room.

"I may have treated you harshly, in the past." Robb said, stopping.

"And I complicate things, without wanting to." Jon answered.

He wasn't speaking out of a place of self pity- it was rather the fact that Jon truly did understand their respective roles.

I'm a bastard. A bastard... speaking to the heir of Winterfell.

"I will be honest, Jon." Robb began, placing his hand on the door.

Robb pushed the door forward.

"I do not think we'll ever be brothers, not truly. I do not think we could be friends. Regardless of that, I wish no harm upon you."

The sounds of Winterfell gingerly snaked into Jon's chambers. It was then Jon noticed that Robb had paused- he stood underneath Jon's doorway, waiting for a response.

"And I wish none towards you." Jon said, finally.

Robb left the room, steps echoing as he walked away.