Chapter 2: Mad or a Memory
Notes:
I finished this chapter much faster than expected so enjoy! Thank you all for your comments and kudos on the first chapter and I hope that I live up to your expectations!
Chapter Text
Jon gathered himself and prepared to step out of his chambers. He was about to meet a number of ghosts, and he had to do his best to make sure none of them suspected anything was amiss. The last thing he wanted was to be carted away to Oldtown on account of madness.
He stopped for a moment to consider it, was he mad? Could everything have been a dream? Everything had been so specific and Jon didn't think that his mind was capable of spinning such a tale. He had read about dreams that seemed to last years but had taken place in the span of one night. The notion felt wrong, his life was real, the one beyond the Wall, the one with Ghost and Tormund. He was married, he had children and grandchildren for god's sake. At seventeen, Jon hadn't wanted any of that. He had thought that it was impossible for him, a bastard with nothing to his name. Despite this, he had lived it, but he had nothing to show that it was real. Nothing but memories of the people he held dead. Nothing that could fully put his mind at ease.
He put a hand over his heart, and was surprised to feel so little layers between himself and his skin. In the North, not a day would go by when one could simply pull on a tunic and step out into the open air. What surprised him more though, was the feeling of raised skin on his chest.
Jon gasped and hiked his shirt up. His heart almost gave out when he saw them, the scars from his former brothers. They had healed nicely as the years passed, but they were always visible, pink and raised as a constant reminder of the betrayal. Now though, they appeared to be red and angry, healed enough not to be scabbed, but like they were still settling on his skin. He twisted his body around and noticed that he could feel the pull of the newer skin.
He ran his hands over them, these were his proof. It would've felt like a punishment if not for Tormund. Jon had hated the scars, whenever he looked at them it was like looking into Olly's eyes all over again, and that hurt almost as much as feeling the knife pierce his heart. Now though, they were remainders of his life, evidence that he wasn't mad, they showed him that it wasn't a dream. He smiled, Tormund had always wanted to touch these scars, kiss them, saying that it reminded him that his crow had overcome death itself to get back to him. Breathing deeply, Jon decided that it was time to go back in time and see the many faces of the past.
Eddard Stark was aware of the fact that he wasn't the brightest lord in Westeros, Jon Arryn had raised warriors, not maesters. Nonetheless, he wasn't stupid either, he could tell that something was off with Jon. The young man had walked into the hall and went green when he saw Ned and Robb. From his seat at the High Table, it almost looked like Jon's eyes were watering if he was going by the shine reflected from his eyes.
Jon turned sharply and went to gather his food, he did so curiously and slowly, like he had never seen the spread before him, despite the fact that it was mostly the same each day. Ned watched as his son (for that was what Jon was to him, no matter who his parents may be) took a seat in the back corner of the room and absentmindedly held a sausage under the table, only to frown and bring it back up, seeming to remember something. Jon tucked into his food, ignoring those conversing around him. He was a quiet boy but he had never gone out of his way to isolate himself, today though, he sat alone and it seemed that he wished to be left with his thoughts.
He was shaken out of his reverie by his wife "Ned, you've hardly touched your food, are you feeling alright?" She looked concerned, Ned guessed that he had spent a bit too much time staring into what seemed like empty space.
"Aye Cat, I'm alright, just a bit tired." She didn't look convinced but let the matter drop, She went back to the conversation she was having with Sansa. The closeness between the two of them was something to behold, Sansa emulated her mother in almost every way, from her eyes to her desire to go south. The two of them were always on the same page, they never argued and were often seen walking the grounds of the keep together. The two of them sat at his left, with Rickon besides Sansa, on his right, he heard the chatter of Arya and Bran. Robb sat directly to his right, symbolic of the bond between lord and heir.
His eldest leaned over to him and asked "Father, are we still going on a hunt today? Bran really wants to try out his new bow." The little boy had not taken to the sword as naturally as his elder brothers and elected to try his hand elsewhere, asking for the help of Theon who was the, self-proclaimed, best marksman in Winterfell. Bran had gotten quite good with the weapon and had been begging Ned for a bow of his own for a while. He gave in for Bran's tenth nameday and the begging moved on to the boy wanting to go on a hunt to test his skills.
Ned nodded and replied "After breakfast, we shall begin to prepare. We should be back about three hours before the evening meal." Robb nodded, the heir was also itching to get out of the castle. It had been a while since they had gone on a true hunt, for the past few months they had let the others in the fort do their hunting, citing that the Starks had been busy with matters of state.
While the rest of his family was finishing their meal, Ned could not help but be consumed by the nagging feeling in the back of his head, saying that something was wrong. He glanced back at Jon and elected to speak to the boy before the hunt. He ate the rest of the meat on his plate, though it tasted like ash on his tongue as he worried for his Lyanna's boy.
Jon hurried from the hall as soon as he was finished breaking his fast. Eating felt wrong without Ghost begging for bacon or sausage, the boisterous laugh of Tormund and the teasing between Munda and her brothers. He had forgotten what it was to eat alone, it felt a bit odd for the meal to be done in mere minutes, but he had forgotten the names and stories of those who sat around him. It would make for a very awkward conversation if he was suddenly unaware of everyone and everything around him.
He headed back to his room and was about to slip inside when he was intercepted by his uncle. "Jon, I've come to remind you that we are going on a hunt today, I would like to set out before the morning chill is gone." Jon almost wept at the sound of his voice, it had been so long since he had seen the man who had raised him. He looked at the older man with awe and quickly schooled his features when he realized that Lord Stark took note of his odd reaction.
Ned peered at him, seeming to expect him to say something back. It took Jon longer than he would have liked to admit to remember the southern tongue, he had gone over a decade without speaking it frequently. He cleared his throat and responded "I remember, I will be ready soon." The words felt odd and too formal on his tongue. He kicked himself for not practicing in the North, but then again, how could he have known that he would be sent back in time and made to remember his old language and customs.
"See to it, when you are ready, meet me in my solar. I wish to speak with you." Jon nodded and his uncle turned away from him, leaving the younger looking man to his own devices.
Jon walked into his room and thought for a moment, he didn't remember a hunt like this in his past life. He knew that he didn't remember every single day but this event felt important for some reason. Perhaps this was one of the 'gifts' that he was told to expect, he hadn't the faintest idea. Regardless, he began to get dressed for the day. He had not been outside that morning, but from the hall, Jon could tell that it was a warm day by Northern standards. He put on a light cloak, chuckling a bit at the black fur and pulled on his boots. The material felt foreign to his skin, too soft and tailored, made for comfort, not practicality.
He dressed quickly, he did not have much of a wardrobe, so it was simple to pick out the appropriate garments and get on his way. He didn't have the distraction of Ghost begging for pets or Tormund's wandering eyes and hands. He had no desire to keep Lord Stark waiting either, so as soon as he was properly dressed, he made his way to his solar.
It took him a while to make his way through the winding halls of the fort. Winterfell was not the largest castle Jon had seen but it had so many corridors that it was a maze for those unfamiliar with its layout. He had been met with a dead end thrice before he found his way. After a few more minutes of walking, he finally reached the tall door of the solar. He remembered being intimidated by the room as a child, whenever he went in it was to have a 'talking to' usually meaning that he was in trouble for something or other. He stepped closer until he was only a few feet away from the door.
There, he was met with the two guards who were always posted outside Eddard Stark's solar, Jon believed their names were Jory and Alyrs but he wasn't sure. He hadn't seen the people of Winterfell in over three decades, it had been longer for those who had gone south with Lord Stark. Jon felt guilty about his lack of recognition, but it was to be expected as time passed. Faces blurred and merged into each other and made it so that many of the people he knew faded into the background and their visages into those of strangers. The guards had no such issue. The two of them knew who he was and they stepped aside to let him knock on the door.
Lord Stark was there in moments, beckoning Jon in and waving the guards off. Jon hesitated in the center of the room but eventually sat on the wooden chair across the more ornate seat that the eldest Stark took. The room was covered in different furs of bears and elks, a head of moose was mounted at the back of the room, a show of power and meant to intimidate those who had ill intentions. Jon was well aware of the fact that he was not aiming to harm anyone in the castle, but he was still terrified of being speared through every time he set foot into the room. Even when he was King in the North Jon felt like an outsider in the room. The moose's eyes seemed to follow his every move, glaring at him for taking the solar from someone more worthy. Someone trueborn. A true Stark.
Ned sat down in his chair, it was much more comfortable than the others in the room, outfitted with the furs of wolves while the others were just simple wood. He'd noticed Jon's apprehension when he walked into the room, his hesitation when Ned had asked to speak with him. It seemed that with every moment that passed, Ned had more and more reason to be worried about Jon. The boy seemed to get paler by the second, and he was hardly wearing the appropriate attire for a hunt, he was going to freeze.
"Jon, are you feeling well? When you came into the hall this morning, you seemed to be a bit disgruntled. Are you sure that you are able to come hunting today, Maester Luwin would be happy to tend to you if you are not." The boy in question stilled, he looked like he was turning the words over in his head, digesting them as though he could not recall their meaning.
The reply came after a few moments "I'm feeling well. I just didn't sleep very well last night."
"Has this restlessness been frequent?" Ned ventured, he knew that Jon was a private boy, but he did not want to leave any stone unturned.
Jon shook his head "No, simply an odd dream, nothing more." The young man looked almost pained when he said this. Ned nodded, he himself was no stranger to night terrors. He frequently dreamed of Jon being in the place of Rhaenys and Aegon, of little Lyanna in that godforsaken tower, covered in her own blood, breathing her last. He knew not what could be troubling Jon though, the boy had not left the walls of Winterfell and was yet to see battle. Perhaps it was the foolish nightmares of children, ones that are not real but no less horrific.
"Alright, if you feel faint or ill, let me know Jon. Now, go wait out in the courtyard, we shall be heading out shortly." Jon nodded and left the room without his usual formality of a bow and a muttered "my lord.' Thinking back on it, Jon hadn't used any formalities during their conversation. Either he really was not feeling well, or he finally felt comfortable enough with Ned to abandon them, at least when they were in private. While both were quite unlikely, Jon had never lied to him before, and Ned had been asking him for years to stop being so formal, they were family after all. The lord sat and pondered, he wouldn't get to the root of the issue right now, but perhaps he would get closer when they were all on the hunt.
Jon kicked himself all the way to the yard, it had barely been two hours and already he was being suspicious. If Lord Stark was able to pick up on it, then he must've been shouting it for all to hear through his facial expressions. He would have to take more care in the future, he knew that he would have to leave Winterfell soon, but while he resided there, Jon would have to be tactful with all of his moves.
While he could school his expressions and words, he could not shake the odd feeling of not having Ghost running around his legs, excited for what the day was to bring. His legs felt cold at his old friend's absence.
As soon as Jon reached the yard, he was met with another spirit of his past: Theon Greyjoy himself. At the end of his life, the kraken had greatly changed from the cocky and unpleasant boy that sauntered around Winterfell as if he owned the place. He was more timid, but still had one of the bravest hearts Jon had known. Now though, he had reverted back into the perverted ass that Jon had known in his childhood.
He spied him speaking with Robb. It pained Jon to see the two of them conversing so casually, when Jon knew of Theon's betrayal. He stood to the side and watched as Ser Roderick was gathering some supplies for the hunt. It seemed that those south of the Wall traveled heavily, not caring if the animals could hear the clanking of their bags or the crinkles of the provisions. Jon knew that he should not judge, as he was born here and had witnessed many successful hunts, but when he saw a guard with two satchels for a hunt lasting merely a few hours, he had to contain his laughter. The Free Folk may have teased him for being a fancy lordling but he had always known the principles of a good hunt.
He was noticed then by Robb, his brother waved him over with a grin. "Jon! Come and tell Theon that it is much easier to take down a raven than a rabbit."
Theon rolled his eyes "Rabbits are much too fast to be easy game, especially with arrows."
"Ravens can fly Theon."
"So can arrows."
The two of them continued to squabble, frankly Jon agreed with Robb. Ravens were quick and crafty, and they were a smaller target. He also doubted that either of them had ever tried to shoot down a raven. Rabbits were fast, but they left tracks and were quite noisy in the snow.
Jon found himself smiling at the two of them, they were acting like children, and it was one of the most heartwarming things he had ever witnessed. Neither of them had been broken by torture, or hardned by war. They were boys, fighting like brothers, they were okay.
Behind him, he heard someone walking towards them. He turned around and saw Bran, his Bran walking towards them. He was smiling, how long had it been since Jon had seen that smile? The little boy had leaves in his hair, suggesting that he had just gotten down from climbing a tree or something of the like. Bran didn't look burdened with the knowledge of the world and its past, he didn't look apathetic to the world around him. He looked free.
Robb turned away from Theon and grabbed Bran, ruffling his hair while the boy struggled to get out of his hold. When Robb finally let go he asked "Your first hunt, how are you feeling?"
Bran smiled even wider, the picture of boyish glee. "Excited, I want to see if I could bring something back with us." He paused for a moment before continuing "How does it feel to eat your own kill?"
It was then that Lord Stark came up behind them. He took it upon himself to answer "It feels like pride. You know that you have provided for yourself and your family, and you are proud for it."
Bran nodded, bouncing on his feet, clearly eager to try his hand at hunting and experiencing that feeling for himself. Jon smiled at him, he had missed his younger brother…cousin. The way that Jon addressed his family in his head changed frequently. He would always see Robb and Arya as his siblings, and most often thought of them as so. With the others it was more difficult. Bran had been the one to banish him, and when they had last seen each other, Bran was a shadow of a person, emotionless and empty. Sansa hadn't gotten along with him during their childhood, and when they had reunited, Jon saw her more as a friend than a sister. He cared for her greatly but he wasn't sure what he should address her as. Rickon…he had barely been six when they had parted. The next time they saw each other, Rickon was running from his death, only for it to shoot him down while Jon watched. He didn't think that he was worthy of calling Rickon a part of his family.
Now that everyone was in the yard, they began to prepare the final steps before heading out. Jon followed Robb and Theon to the armory. During his years in the North Jon had maintained his combat skills, sparring with other Free Folk and teaching the young ones how to fight. In turn, they had taught him how to fight with two hands. He hadn't fought in a battle in many years, but he won more spars than he lost. Which was saying something, as the Free Folk fought every fight as if it were their last. He had learned different techniques that made him a much better marksman than he had ever expected to be.
Jon perused his options, he knew that none of the swords would be as balanced as Longclaw was, but Winterfell has good forges so he had no doubt he would find a good sword for himself. He wasn't likely to be using a sword on the hunt but it was better to be safe than sorry,
He found himself wandering over to the bastard swords which were the most similar to the style that the Mormont blade had been. He selected one that was about three hands in length and gave it an experimental swing. It was well balanced, obviously castle forged steel, but strong and reliable. He then walked over to the bow area. Jon hadn't used them much in his last life but he had learned his way around them eventually. Jon knew that he wasn't as tall as most men so a bow his size shouldn't be very hard to find. There was one made of black locust wood that looked appropriate for his height and build. He tested the draw weight and found it to be a bit light but suitable for his purposes. Jon attached the sword to his hip and slung the bow over his back. Finally, he gathered a good number of arrows and left the armory.
He met Robb and his lord father outside, the two of them both had their usual swords on their hips. The sheer size of Ice was something to behold, it almost dragged on the ground as Lord Stark walked. Robb had taken to a sword of a similar size, or at least as similar as he could get, to prepare himself for the monster of a sword. Neither of them had bows and they were on horses.
Jon wasn't a slouch on a horse, but it wasn't something that he would choose for a hunt. They were too large and made too much noise. When they noticed him both looked queerly at the bow on his back. Robb raised an eyebrow and Jon shrugged "Thought I'd try my hand at it, can't hurt." His brother let the matter drop but it seemed that Theon had caught the tail end of the conversation.
"I doubt that Snow could hit a wall at five paces, much less any game," he sneered.
Jon didn't rise to the bait. Theon was a ward, Jon was a bastard, the kraken was of a higher rank than himself, so disrespecting him would not be taken well. He simply shrugged and replied "We shall see."
Theon glared at him, and opened his mouth to say more but was cut off by Robb "We should get going before Arya gets out of her lessons and begs to accompany us."
Lord Stark nodded and turned his horse around to lead the hunting party away from the castle. Robb and a few guards followed after, giving Theon time to mount his own horse. Jon however stayed on his feet. Horses in the north, even Winterfell, were in short supply, so usually not everyone in a hunt would have a mount, which suited Jon well. He did not plan to leave empty handed.
Hunting was something that he enjoyed beyond the wall. Ghost mostly went off on his own to find himself hares and other small game while Jon and Tormund sought elk to feed their tribe. Everyone did their share but himself and Tormund used hunting as an excuse to spend time away from the squabbles and disagreements of the others and just spend some quiet moments to themselves. Well… it wasn't always quiet if Tormund got his way, the man was insatiable.
He followed at the back of the group, hoping to be able to slip away unnoticed and find animals that had run away from the noise of the rest of them. The woods were distantly familiar to him, he knew the terrain faintly like the words of a lullaby, but the trees and landmarks were difficult to discern for him. Jon had spent a good amount of time within them in his youth but it had been so long that any memory of it had become muddled with time.
He heard a rustling in the leaves and put himself on alert. He saw a bit of fur under the brush and decided to follow its trail. It wasn't like anyone would mind his absence, the hunt was more for Bran than anything. As much as he loved Bran, he wanted to put his mind at ease for a few hours. Hunting and focusing on the chase for that time would help greatly.
Ned was once again worried for Jon. He wasn't at the front with himself and Robb like he normally was. Additionally, he hadn't accepted a mount, he, like his mother, was a natural on a horse. He had looked back to see the boy walking near the back of the group with that bow on his back. It seemed that Jon had gone through something during the night, perhaps it had something to do with the dream that he had spoken of.
He was shaken when he heard Bran inhale sharply on his left. He had spotted something. Everyone went quiet as Bran knocked an arrow and drew it back, the boy took a deep breath and let go, the squeal that sounded revealed that he had hit something but it hadn't gone cleanly. Robb got off of his horse and came back with a dying squirrel. Bran looked a bit green at seeing the animal but it was overshadowed by the pride on his face.
His little boy looked to him for validation. Ned smiled at him and nodded. Bran took the small animal and put it in the satchel designated for killed game.
Then, the party heard a rustling in the bushes, it sounded like a large animal. It was in front of the hunting party and it sounded like it was coming closer. Those around him drew their swords and knocked their arrows. If they could bring this animal down, it was very likely that they would come back with a feast.
The bushes parted and everyone tensed, waiting for the beast to reveal itself. Instead of fur, black curls revealed themselves. "Nice shot Bran! Hitting a moving target like that was very impressive." Ned could see Bran sit up straighter in his saddle, his younger children loved Jon, looked up to him as he spent much of his time with them, unimpeded by lordly duties as Robb or himself was.
Jon fully came out of the bushes then, around his neck were three large rabbits strung together. That alone wouldn't be out of place, but the fact that the rest of them hadn't seen any life outside of the squirrel combined with the short time they had been out made Jon's catch very impressive. Ned breathed a sigh of relief at the fact that Jon seemed to be awake and alert. Looking at his son, he saw a faint smile on his face, he looked at ease, which was something rare these days. The boy had drawn into himself a bit more in days past, speaking more of the Wall and the Night's Watch.
Ned nodded at Jon who did the same in return he gave the rabbits to the squire carrying the bag and Ned saw that all of them hadn't been killed with a blade like he had expected, but instead with a clean shot through the eye or heart. Robb smiled and called out to Theon "Looks like he hit a bit more than a wall!" The boy in question took a look at the animals and looked like he had sucked on a lemon, his ward and son had never gotten along. Theon thought himself too good for a 'bastard' and Jon wasn't one to try and forge bridges with someone who ridiculed him.
They moved on quickly from that spot, trudging carefully and slowly through the woods. It was a mostly normal hunt, the occasional hare or deer making itself known before fleeing at the sound of a leaf shifting. The one thing out of place was Jon, who seemed to have shifted into a forest spirit in the night. He slipped in and out of the crowd unnoticed until he emerged carrying a rabbit or, once, even dragging a deer back to the party. While he was not the only one to kill game, it seemed that he was, by far, the most proficient at it.
Ned had his horse trotting alongside his sons', Jon was speaking with Robb when he tensed. Jon stopped in his tracks and stared down at the ground. Ned realized that he was looking at tracks, they were not especially large, perhaps the size of a hound, but it seemed to be bothering Jon.
The boy creeped forward and the group did not follow him, all seeming influenced by Jon's apprehension. Jon stepped about fifty paces in front of the rest of them and stopped. Ned saw the rustling too late, by the time he opened his mouth to warn Jon that something was there. Something shot out of the buses, it was all black and much too quick for someone to see. It ripped through the foliage with its sharp claws and pounced. Knocking Jon back into the brush behind him.