Chapter 19
The familiar chill of the Winterfell air nipped at Jon's cheeks as he walked through the training yard, the rhythmic clang of steel a constant soundtrack to his daily life. Cregan's absence was a palpable void, a silence that echoed in the usually vibrant space, but his presence still lingered in the very stones of Winterfell, as both he and Robb were trying their best to honor his memory. He had been gone for a couple of months now, and while his presence was always there, his absence had forced both Jon and Robb to step up, to take on some of the responsibilities that their older brother usually shouldered, but this time, while keeping their age in mind.
He watched Robb spar with one of the guards, his movements a mixture of youthful enthusiasm and growing skill. Robb had always been a good fighter, but now, Jon could see that his techniques were becoming more refined, his movements more deliberate. It was as if Cregan's departure had spurred him to fill the void, to become a leader in his own right. Instead of overseeing the entire armory, however, Robb had focused on helping with the inventory, making sure that the weapons were properly cleaned and maintained. And he had also started accompanying his father on his trips through the region, learning how to become a leader from the quiet wolf himself.
Jon, on the other hand, had focused on other aspects, most noticeably in assisting Maester Luwin in the library, poring over maps, ledgers, and histories, and while he was learning the complexities of ruling, he also had a more hands-on approach to his learning. He had taken on the task of helping Maester Luwin with bookkeeping, carefully noting all the details, and understanding the complexities of the castle's daily needs. He also helped with the education of his younger siblings, sometimes helping them with their lessons, or spending their time in the training yard alongside them. It was as if they were each trying to embody one aspect of Cregan's personality, all while trying to create their own identities.
"You're staring again, Jon," Robb said, his voice breaking through Jon's thoughts. He had finished sparring and was now approaching him, a playful glint in his eyes. "Is there something wrong? Are my techniques not up to your standards?"
Jon chuckled, shaking his head. "You're getting better, Robb. But you still rely too much on brute force. You need to be more fluent, more efficient" He paused, his gaze drifting to the distant horizon. "Like Cregan would say."
Robb's smile softened, his gaze shifting to follow Jon's. "I miss him, Jon," he confessed, his voice laced with a hint of melancholy. "I know we have to help out here, for our family. But I also think about how much fun he is having, out there, exploring the world. I want that too."
"He's just gone to Barrowton," Jon said, his voice calm. "It's not that far away. He'll be back soon enough."
"Yeah, but by next year it will be my turn," Robb said, his voice filled with excitement. "I'm going to Riverrun, to squire for the Blackfish. Can you imagine?"
Jon nodded, his own excitement hidden behind a façade of calm. Robb's fostering had already been announced. It was something that Jon knew was happening, something that was not a secret, but still, it felt a bit unfair that both Cregan and Robb were allowed to leave, while he, the baseborn son, would be stuck in Winterfell, doing nothing but trying to keep the place up and running. He tried his best not to let his frustration show, however, as he knew that it would bring down the other members of his family, and he did not want to cause any unnecessary trouble.
Later that evening, Jon found himself in the godswood, the ancient weirwood tree a silent witness to his inner turmoil. The chill of the night seeped into his bones, but he barely noticed, his mind preoccupied with his thoughts, with his dreams of exploring the world. He sat there for a long time, and then he heard the familiar sound of footsteps approaching from behind.
"You seem troubled, Jon," Arthur Dayne said, his voice calm as he approached, his gaze filled with concern.
Jon sighed, turning to face his uncle. Arthur had become a confidant and a friend, and Jon was never afraid to confide in him. "I just feel… I just feel like I'm missing out," he said, his voice soft. "I see Cregan and Robb going out into the world, learning new things, meeting new people. And I feel like I'm always going to be stuck here, in Winterfell." He paused, and looked into his uncle's purple eyes. "I don't get why they get all the adventures, and I'm always going to be stuck here."
Arthur sat down beside Jon, his gaze fixed on the dark forest beyond the godswood. "You have your own path to follow, Jon," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "You have your own strengths, your own skills, and your own destiny to fulfill. Your value is not determined by where you are, or by what you do. It is determined by who you are, as a person."
He placed a hand on Jon's shoulder, his grip firm, his gaze filled with understanding. "Cregan and Robb have their own paths, yes. And the fostering system, is something that the Northerners have always held high. They are seen as valuable assets to their families and to the North itself," Arthur continued. "But your path will be different, that does not mean it will be any less important, or any less fulfilling. You need to remember that."
Jon looked down, his gaze fixed on the ground. "But I'm a bastard," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "That will never change."
Arthur's gaze softened, his eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and affection. "You are not just a bastard, Jon," he said, his voice soft. "You are also a son, a brother, and a young man with a bright future. Do not ever let your birth define you, or limit what you can become."
They sat in silence for a while, both of them lost in their own thoughts, the only sound the gentle rustling of the leaves in the godswood. The silence, was a reminder that he wasn't alone. He had family, and that while his life may not be what he expected, it was still his to live.
"And do you really think he is enjoying himself that much?" Arthur asked, his voice with a teasing undertone. "I bet he misses home, the warmth of Winterfell. And he is probably working himself too much, just as he always does."
Jon smiled, a small smile that reached all the way to his eyes. "He probably is," he said, his voice a bit more cheerful.
"And we still need to get to all of the practice swords," Arthur said, as he rose to leave. "So get ready to keep training tomorrow, if you think you will have any time at all to think about him," he added with a laugh.
Jon laughed too, a genuine sound of amusement, that echoed through the woods. He knew that Arthur was right. He had his own path to follow. And he had his family to protect. He had to keep learning, keep training, and keep growing. He had to be ready for anything, he had to be better, stronger, and smarter, so that when the time came, he would be ready.
Cregan may be gone, but Jon still had his own responsibilities, his own duties, and he would not let his family down. And as he made his way back to the castle, he smiled. Even if Cregan was far away, his presence, his lessons, and his love, were a constant reminder of what it meant to be a Stark, even if you were never truly one by name.
