They left Winterfell at the crack of dawn, so early that only Robb and his father had come to see him off, the rest of his siblings soundly asleep, but he had already had his teary goodbyes with them the night before.

His father gave him a small bag of gold and bade him to obey his new knight and honor his family, then he hugged him and told him he was proud of him. Not proud enough to make me a Stark. The thought came unbidden to his mind and he bitterly shoved it away, when he was younger, he thought that surely if he became proficient enough with the sword, surely if he was the best fighter in the yard day after day, his father would grant him legitimacy, fully accept him into his house, but it seemed the taint of bastardy was not so easily cleansed.

Robb hugged him as well, they exchanged light jokes as they always had, and part of his broke knowing it would the last time he would see him in years. 'Show those valemen what you're worth, make a knight of yourself, brother.' Were the last words he told him.

The sight of them waving him off as he rode behind the blackfish was one that he would never forget.

The next few weeks on the road with the blackfish had passed by in a heartbeat, it was not the first time he had left Winterfell, he had made many trips across the North accompanying Ser Rodrik on whatever task his father had assigned him, he had grown used to the forests and the tundras, to the mountain peaks on the horizons and wet trees, the low fog of the mornings and the moonlight evenings spent admiring the moon and stars.

It didn't make the trip any less boring or painful however, he had not been eager to revisit the endless hours spent on horseback and the sore-ridden sleep on the grass.

Their pace, however, was meandering enough that Jon's instruction in the Andal method of fighting could begin, something he had been looking forward to from the moment he saw the blackfish riding through the gates of Winterfell.

He had some familiarity with it from sparring with the Royces when they were traveling to the wall and from his few trips to White Harbor, there seemed to be a greater focus on defense and technique, lacking much the direct brutality he'd been taught by Rodrik his entire life, he would have thought the practice inferior, had he not crossed blades with the Bronze Royce a year ago, and the blackfish now.

The Tully's swordhand lived up to his legend, the man was so good it was nigh unbelievable, and nary a spar did Jon manage to win.

"Lower the sword and cross it." The older man said, standing opposite him, steel in hand. "It's too dangerous to swing overhead, even with your speed."

For all the difference between the two styles, they still shared much of the same fundamentals and polishes, Brynden only helped him better master what he already knew and to integrate the few techniques that were completely foreign to him, with some time, it should morph into something that boasted the strengths of both styles.

The older knight's company was also rather pleasant, he wasn't much of a talker, but that suited Jon just fine, most days they rode in comfortable silence, some days the blackfish regaled him with tales of his youth, of teenage adventures and war stories, some days Jon told him stories of his nieces and nephews.

"…and then Sansa, she has maybe five or maybe six name days, she goes up to Alys Karstark and tells her Robb wants to marry her, and the girl goes and tells her father." Jon said as the man riding besides him tried to contain his laughter. "Now father's confused by the ordeal, Arya's crying because she doesn't want Robb to leave us, and Robb tries to convince me to help him fight her brothers."

"Why would he have to fight her brothers?"

"I don't think he understood how marriage worked, I didn't either, I just agreed." Jon said, shrugging with a smile on his face, he had so many memories back in Winterfell, it was all he'd known, and he was leaving them all behind.

It was going to happen sooner or later, I had no place there, not truly. He thought. At least it's a fortress of knights I get to go to, I wonder where Arya, and Bran and the rest will end up.

It may not be in the next month or the next year or even the next decade, but sooner or later all of them save Robb would leave, perhaps even riding on the same roads Jon was taking now, with all the same sights and smells, the thought of it cheered him somewhat.

"Look ahead!" Brynden said, pointing somewhere at the hill above them, Jon squirmed his eyes and made out a few of large buildings and a stable. "An inn, which means a real mattress and warm food."

Jon stretched his back at the thought, they'd avoided every castle on their way, both major and minor, Brynden worried their would-be hosts would keep them too long, and the North being as sparsely populated as it was meant they were hard pressed to find any villages or taverns to buy fresh food from or spend the night in.

They still had some daylight, but realistically the most they could have squeezed was an hour or two of riding before they had to make camp, better to end the day early, restock their supplies and allow themselves and their horses the chance to rest.

Once they arrived, they roughly navigated their horses to where the stables were and gave the leads into the hands of a bored stable hand, the blackfish flicked the boy a copper while Jon headed for the door.

The hall of the inn was large and spacious, scattered across it were plenty of men and a few women sitting over tables and engaged in various states of discussion too low for him to hear, they ignored his entrance for the most part, and in the center of it all roared a great hearth that warmed the room.

He walked to the bar, which was mostly empty, with one man who had fallen asleep in one of the chairs off the side, there was a woman behind the bar who gave him a soft smile.

"Two plates of your best food, if it please you." Jon said, sliding into one of the chairs. "I need to wash the taste of jerky and moldy bread from my mouth."

"Two?" She asked.

"The other's for me." Brynden said, taking a seat next to him.

"Ser knight, I apologize, I didn't—." She said, recognizing his sword and armor, but Brynden just waved her off, and she relaxed and leaned against the bar. "The meal tonight is venison strew, my husband caught quite a big deer nearby, he stuffed the head and is selling it for a silver if you're interested, and if you stick around for a couple days, we'll have venison jerky, which I can assure you tastes much better than normal jerky."

"I don't know if I can trust jerky again." Jon said. "But it'll be two servings of venison then, some fresh bread and butter if you have it and two cups of ale."

The woman nodded and disappeared behind a door; Brynden turned to Jon, his voice mixing with the din and chatter of the room around them.

"Your father lets you drink at your pleasure?" He asked, "How old are you?"

"Six and ten." Jon said, then shook his head, feeling guilty. "That was a lie, I turned five and ten last month."

"Starks are too honest, it'll make my job easier at least." Brynden said, smiling. "I'll let you have a cup tonight, but no more without permission, I'll have no drunkards in my care."

Jon nodded as the woman reemerged from the door with two big plates in one hand and a pair of mugs in the other, she set them on the bar in front of them and the two dug in, he was never a fan of venison, but the taste of warm food was enough for him to declare it his new favorite.

"How much is a room?" Brynden asked. "Two beds."

"A silver a night, five coppers for each meal." She said, leaning forward, Brynden paused his eating and fished in his purse, then slid the woman a few silvers stars.

"Will we stay a couple nights, give us a chance to rest?" Jon asked.

"I'm rested." Brynden said dryly, in truth Jon was looking forward for the rest more than him, Arya and Robb rather enjoyed horseriding, Jon considered it a necessary burden. "We'll leave at dawn, prepare us a bag of foodstuffs for the road and some apples and oats for the horses."

"Of course, ser, let me get your change." The woman said, but he waved her a refusal.

"Keep it." Brynden said. "In exchange for some news of the road south, any bandits or animals to look out for?"

"Lady Dustin keeps the roads clean of any mischief." She said, leaning forward on her shoulder on the bar. "Banditry's been nonexistent, and the crannogmen've always kept the wildlife in check."

"Are they in the habit of attacking travelers?"

"They're friendlier than you make them out to be in the south." She said. "Helped keep the Inn safe during the war with the Greyjoys."

The conversation faltered until someone called the woman to bring more ale, and she yelled back, before disappearing and reappearing again, a tray of mugs in hand, the two of them meanwhile continued the rest of the meal in comfortable silence borne from weeks of companionship on the road, the bar woman would come and go throughout the evening, exchanging the occasional word with the two before being called away.

"High in the halls of the kings who are gone

Jenny would dance with her ghosts."

Jon had heard his sister sing songs of true love and gallantry before, her voice was lovely, but it didn't compare to the one that now emanated through the hall, conversation around the room dimmed as heads turned to the source of the singing, a tall, lean man with a lute in hand and a smile on his face.

The lute was a pitiful weapon in most situations, but this man commanded the room with it better than he could have with any sword or spear, taking them through the highs and lows of the song, before ending to the applause of everyone in the room, even the blackfish clapped his hands once or twice with a reminiscing look on his face.

The man bowed and turned to his seat, sitting down and throwing an arm around a smiling woman.

Someone should have told Theon to take up singing.

"I haven't heard that song since, well, since the prince unveiled it at Harrenhal, they say it brought your aunt Lyanna to tears."

"Father never talked about her." Jon said, feeling some grief for the family he would never know, the family that was taken away during the Rebellion. "But she was why father denied me permission to leave for the south for so long, why he's turned down fosterships for all my siblings, when he fostered in the Vale, he hardly got to spend time with her, not truly, not until she was dead, he didn't wish for us to endure the same."

"Times are different, your father's best friend sits the Iron Throne, but… mayhaps he has some sense, I could not have predicted a single war that I fought in, even when it seemed as though we were on the dawn of a century of peace, something or someone would come along and plunge us into conflict."

"And all any of us can do us fight." Jon said contemplatively, running his finger around the rim of his cup, before looking back at the blackfish. "I'll keep them safe, I won't let what happened to my aunt and uncle happen to them."

"Your father must have thought the same while he was in the Vale. Your uncle Brandon as well when he charged the Red Keep, and your grandfather when he answered the king's summons to King's Landing." Brynden said, meeting Jon's eye as a frown crossed his face. "Protecting those you love is harder than you make it out to be, it takes more than swordwork to survive, and much more than that to keep anyone safe."

Suddenly the door to the inn burst open as four armored men walked in, between them a chained and bruised man huddled, the bar lady who had been ferrying drinks dropped the tray onto the floor, soaking it with beer and rushed to the man's side.

"Duncan!" She cried, "What's the meaning of this!?"

"Your husband was caught poaching on Lady Dustin's lands." The man at their head said, he was tall and blond, with a strong jaw, long hair and a short beard, his right eye scarred and missing. Must be hard to fight with half the vision. "He was given the choice between losing his hands or joining the watch, he decided on the watch, you've this last night together before we escort him to the wall at dawn."

He gestured at the other armored men, they left the sobbing couple alone and moved to the corner of the room and sat around a table, one the previous occupants hastily abandoned, the men started to chat and laugh and joke as though they weren't inconsolable weeping not twenty feet from them, as though not everyone in the hall was looked upon them with reverence and fear.

Almost everyone, Jon only glared with distain and disgust, the blond leader noticed him and matched his scowl, but it would far, far more than that to scare Jon off.

Eventually the man grew bored of glaring, he spat in Jon's direction and went back to conversing with the other men, Jon looked back at the barmaid who had been so kind and jovial to them wailing while he husband could only hold her and shake in place, whispering something in her ear, sweet assurances and lies that did nothing to calm her, the sight of it broke his heart.

"Poor bugger." Brynden said. "The choice between being a burden on your wife and abandoning her forever, I wouldn't wish it on anyone."

"We have to do something right?" Jon asked, though the knight only gave him a raised eyebrow.

"Do what? These are not our lands, Snow." He said, taking a gulp of his cup. "There's nothing we can do."

"They're my father's lands." Jon said. "And he's never punished poachers like this! Two hands? For poaching? You'd think he murdered someone!"

"Neither have I, nor my brother, but these are not your father lands, they're Lady Dustin's." Brynden said, shrugging. "Now drop it."

"But ser…"

"I said drop it." He said, then looked back to the sobbing couple. "I think it's time we turned in for the night, come, we've an early start and a long day tomorrow."


Sleep didn't come easy.

He should be thankful for the bed, even if it was far harder than his mattress in Winterfell, seeing as it was stuffed with straw instead of feathers, but it was still much more comfortable than the hard ground he'd grown used to sleeping on.

Maybe it was that, combined with the burning guilt he still felt that left him twisting and turning for hours on end, until he finally sat up with the blackfish sound asleep on his own bed a few feet from him, and made his way to his saddlebags, digging inside for some oats.

He'd go and feed Grey, the girl must be scared, she must have grown as used to sleeping and waking up around him as he had her, and maybe a quick feeding would do them both some good, maybe even feed the Blackfish's horse as well.

He gently passed through the door and hurried along hallways and down the stairs to make it to the inn's hall, it was dead quiet, a stark contrast from how it was a few hours ago, the hearth which once billowed with a great fire was now reduced to ashes and embers, the room was completely empty save for Lady Dustin's men who were scattered about, sleeping on the tables and chairs.

There was one figure still awake, the scarred one-eyed leader from earlier, who was sitting on a chair staring mindlessly into the embers, only looking up when he heard Jon moving down the stairs.

"Boy." He said, almost spitting the word out. "You're up late."

"I could say the same for you ser." Jon said, slowly walking to stand opposite him near the dying hearth. "Guilty conscience keeping you up?"

"Conscience, what conscience?" The man said with a cruel laugh. "I don't sleep boy, conscience has nothing to do with it."

"You've no remorse at all? Shouldn't the punishment fit the crime ser?" Jon asked, crossing his arms. Who in the hells doesn't sleep? "You would happily take a man's hands, a man's being for a single deer?"

"He is losing no hands, he's going to the wall, and he's getting it easy, probably balls deep in that bitch before his prick freezes off at the Wall, mayhaps when he's gone and the lady begins to sell herself to keep her stomach full, I'll stop by and fuck her brains out." He said, though Jon's face contorted in disgust, he was used to vulgarity but even Theon at his crassest sounded less filthy. "Tsk, tsk, there's that look again, you better wash it off your face, boy before I smack it off."

"I'd love to see you try." Jon said confidently, he feared a great many things, but crossing blades with this man was not one of them.

"Boldness like that won't serve a hedge knight." The blond man said, spitting in the ashes of the hearth. "You've not the pedigree for this arrogance, you lowborn miscreant."

"You'd be surprised." Jon said, the man was growing increasing aggressive, but oddly, that made Jon calmer. "There's nothing I can do to reduce his sentence?"

"Ask me one more time and you're going to the wall with him, if I don't decide to chop off your head here and now."

"You threaten a lot, ser, yet you're still glued to your seat." Jon said, looking down at the man from where he was standing, ramblings and insults seemed to be the only things the man was comfortable with, Jon looked around to the rest of his men, all of whom were still sound asleep.

"What does that make you boy? Scrapping your knees for the freedom of some commonborn criminal, all talk and no action." He said, then brought his hand to his chin. "Come to think of it, it was the late Brandon Stark who once told me there's two kinds of men in the world, dogs who bark and men who act."

"He wasn't wrong." Jon said, crouching to look into the last dying ember, now extinguished, it was his uncle who had ridden to King's Landing and his father who started a rebellion, while countless stood by and watched their king commit crime after crime in the eyes of gods and men. And it is I who stands now, the fate of an innocent man in my hands. He thought, noting the Dustin man's blindspot on his right. I can't pretend I have no choice when one is staring me in the face. "But you ser, are a poor judge of character."


The next morning, Jon stood half asleep in the stables, leaning against a post until the blackfish suddenly swung into view.

"Jon?" He asked. "You're up early."

"Couldn't sleep much." He said, not wholly lying. I don't know how to, so let me not lie. "The tavern lady left us this bag."

The blackfish opened it and saw it filled with smoked fish, salted pork, and countless apples and oats, he nodded approvingly and threw it on the back of his horse.

"Surprised she found the time with her husband and all." Brynden said, jumping atop his horse and gesturing for Jon to do the same. "I didn't see him, nor any of Lady Dustin's men, they could have at least given the two a few days together."

"Cruel men, ser." Jon said, jumping on his horse and trotting to catch up with the blackfish. "I've a question."

"Is it about the men?"

"Partially." Jon said, his life at Winterfell had been fairly sheltered, and now the wildings and the scarred man were the only things on his mind. "I feel… I feel as though there's many cruel men."

"There are." The blackfish said. "Once you've lived as long me, that much becomes clear."

"But some laws protect them, like Lady Dustin's men, or even the mad king." Jon said.

"Aye." Brynden said. "Some men accept it, some men challenge it."

"Which kind are you?"

"The one who's never had to find out." He said, Jon looked at him as he leaned back in his saddle and brushed his beard, the boundless blue sky and northern tundra stretching out behind him. "Every war I've fought, I fought for my house, for my blood, any man would do the same, and there is justice in that, but a war against cruelty, against tyranny, against savagery for the sake of compassion? That is not a mantle I've ever borne."

They rode off in silence while Jon thought over the man's words a hundred times over, and his father's words before him, it is for war and battle, the slaughter of men, and if you're lucky, you will do it in the name of a just cause. What cause will that be? How will I know?

A few days later, a man would stumble upon Lady Dustin's men in the tavern's stables, they were bound and gagged and frothing with rage, their horses, their prisoner and his wife never to be seen in the north again.