AU ;; for robb
Jon fled the Wall without looking back, his thoughts bent Southward to where his father's head was moldering outside King's Landing, where his sisters were vanished or dead, where the only family he knew for sure he had left had just declared himself King in the North. Robb's face breezed through Jon's mind as he rode hell-for-leather South; Robb as a boy playing knights in the yard at Winterfell, playing at being lords or kings-- and now it had happened for Robb in truth, and though Jon was sure he would be a good king, now was not a good time for anyone to wear a crown in Westeros, and he feared for his brother's life.
When he reached Mole's Town, he rode straight through without stopping.
Somewhere along the way he rid himself of the black clothing that would give him away. No one in the North would deal kindly with a deserter, unless it be King Robb himself, who could pardon anyone no matter what their crime. Jon held onto that hope as he rode, and even long after he'd changed crow's black for southerner's forest greens and browns, he thought of the Wall, and woke sometimes at night sure he'd heard Ser Alliser's footsteps approaching, certain he'd heard Lord Mormont's raven cawing at him from the tree. Robb will help me, he thought. And I will help him, and it will be just as it used to be-- just as it should always have been. He knew Lady Catelyn was at Riverrun as well, and though he did not expect a warm welcome from her, at the very least he hoped Robb would be able to elicit some courtesy from her for his half brother.
Finally he came in sight of Riverrun, and could not tell whether it had been a day or a month since he'd left Castle Black. His poor tired horse, the third he'd changed on the course of the journey, was too glad to limp into the stables and take her rest, while Jon, with his heart in his mouth, went to present himself to the King in the North.
When he reached Mole's Town, he rode straight through without stopping.
Somewhere along the way he rid himself of the black clothing that would give him away. No one in the North would deal kindly with a deserter, unless it be King Robb himself, who could pardon anyone no matter what their crime. Jon held onto that hope as he rode, and even long after he'd changed crow's black for southerner's forest greens and browns, he thought of the Wall, and woke sometimes at night sure he'd heard Ser Alliser's footsteps approaching, certain he'd heard Lord Mormont's raven cawing at him from the tree. Robb will help me, he thought. And I will help him, and it will be just as it used to be-- just as it should always have been. He knew Lady Catelyn was at Riverrun as well, and though he did not expect a warm welcome from her, at the very least he hoped Robb would be able to elicit some courtesy from her for his half brother.
Finally he came in sight of Riverrun, and could not tell whether it had been a day or a month since he'd left Castle Black. His poor tired horse, the third he'd changed on the course of the journey, was too glad to limp into the stables and take her rest, while Jon, with his heart in his mouth, went to present himself to the King in the North.