Fic: 19 Random Moments From Jon Snow's Life
So, here is my Yuletide fic written for airawyn.
Title: 19 Random Moments From Jon Snow's Life
Rating: PG
Characters: Jon, the Stark family, Theon, Satin, Melisandre
Pairings: Jon/Satin, slight Jon/Melisandre, very slight Jon/Sansa, Jon/Ygritte
Word Count: 3,087
Summary: A collection of scenes from Jon Snow's life.
Note: I only remembered after I'd finished writing most of this that Satin was not part of the group of trainees Jon trained with. I would have liked to change it, but it was too vital to the story.
i. Jon always knew that Lady Stark was not his mother, that he had no mother. He didn't realize that there was anything wrong for a long time. Palla the kennelmaster's daughter didn't have a mother either. Her mother had died when she was born, and Jon assumed the same was true of his mother.
ii. When the snow melted away, the trees in the godswood bloomed with gold-green leaves and pastel blossoms. It was his first summer and it was the most beautiful thing Jon had ever seen. Then Arya was born. She was a tiny red thing with a cap of dark fuzz on her head. He and Robb snuck into the nursery to see her while Old Nan was asleep. Robb dared him to touch her and he did and she started crying. Afraid that someone would hear and they'd get in trouble, he picked her up and snuggled her close to his chest. She quieted, and suddenly she was more beautiful than summer and more precious than Winterfell.
iii. He'd always heard the word bastard and knew it referred to him, but he didn't understand what it meant until Theon Greyjoy informed him. He fell off his pony and Theon laughed, and Jon angrily told him to go away, that he wasn't a Stark and he didn't belong at Winterfell. That's when Theon said that Jon wasn't a Stark either. Theon said Lord Eddard had gotten him on some peasant wench and brought him home because he felt sorry.
iv. The first time he saw his father do justice, he was afraid of him for days afterwards. When Father took him to the godswood, Jon worried that Father had found out about the tart he'd stolen from the kitchen and he was going to cut off his hand because that's what happened to thieves. But Father held him in his lap and gently explained that he only delivered justice to very bad people and he'd never hurt Jon or his brothers and sisters or anyone at Winterfell.
v. When Lady Stark was pregnant with Bran, sometimes she would say to Father, "He kicked again."
Jon knew that he was getting a brother or sister and that he or she was inside Lady Stark. Once at dinner, she held Robb's hand against her big belly so he could feel the babe move. It took all his courage but Jon managed to ask if he could feel it too. Lady Stark's smile vanished, as it always did when she looked at him, and he was afraid she would say no. But she nodded and he hesitantly reached out to touch her belly. He felt something and he jerked his hand back almost immediately.
vi. "Jon." Arya bit her lip. "Am I a bastard too?"
Jon wondered where she'd gotten that idea from. "No. What makes you think that?"
"The new baby looks like Mother, just like Robb and Sansa and Bran, and I don't look like them so maybe I'm a bastard like you."
"It doesn't mean that you're a bastard. You just happen to look like Father, like me."
She still looked worried. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure." Jon ruffled her hair. "Your mother loves you, doesn't she? You're her daughter and a trueborn Stark."
Arya threw her skinny arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. "You're the best brother." She skipped off happily.
It wasn't her fault. She was too little to realize how she'd hurt him
vii. In all of his fourteen years Jon had never been more astonished than the day Sansa asked him to kiss her. "What?!”
"Kiss me," Sansa repeated, looking as innocent as if she'd suggested they build a snow-knight.
"I'm your brother!"
"You're only my bastard half-brother. Please, Jon. Jeyne says Robb kissed her and I want to be kissed too."
He pressed his lips to her forehead though he knew that wasn't the kind of kiss she wanted. "You don't want your first kiss to be with your brother, do you? And a bastard too. Why don't you wait until some handsome young lord comes along?"
She left looking crestfallen and it was only then that Jon remembered Theon Greyjoy. He could have suggested Theon to her, but the thought of Theon kissing his sister made his skin crawl. He watched Theon carefully after that, to make sure he didn’t realize Sansa was growing up and seek to take advantage of her.
viii. Unlike his brothers and sisters, Jon had not been presented to King Robert. At meals, he was seated far below the high table, beneath the notice of the royal family. It was purely by chance that he turned a hallway and nearly collided with the king one morning.
"Watch where you're going," snarled one of the Kingsguard. The man raised a hand to strike him, but the king stopped him.
"You're Ned's bastard," he said, seizing Jon's chin and peering at his face.
"I am, Your Grace," Jon confirmed.
"Ah, Ned's not so stiff. You're proof of that. His juices will flow again when we go south."
His father approached, saving Jon the need to reply to the king. Lord Eddard looked worried. "Jon, Ser Rodrik wants a word with you."
Jon ran to the First Keep where no one would bother him. He knew Ser Rodrik didn't really want to speak to him, that his father had just wanted him gone. He cried.
ix. “Jon, I beat Prince Tommen! I beat him.”
Jon had watched the trueborn boys spar from the bridge above the training yard. “I saw. You made me proud, Bran.”
“He’s nice. I like him. He petted Summer, but the queen saw and scolded him and told me she’d speak to my mother.”
“They don’t have direwolves in the south. It’s only natural that the queen would fear for her son’s safety. Some of our own men are afraid of the wolves.”
Bran sat down next to him. “Sansa’s going to marry the older one, Prince Joffrey. He’s going to be king and Sansa’ll be his queen. I’m going south with them too. I’m going to be a knight of the Kingsguard when I’m a man grown.”
Rickon came running up and tugged at Jon’s sleeve. “Gage threw a stone at Shaggy and then Farlen tied him up.”
Jon had been tired lately, though he was doing less than he had before the royal visit. He could feel his head starting to throb too. “What did Shaggy do?” he made himself ask.
“Shaggy was naughty.”
“Rickon has him steal food from the kitchen,” Bran said.
“Shaggy was hungry.”
“Wolves don’t eat apple pies; even a baby should know that.”
“I’m not a baby, and Shaggy likes pies.”
“So why was your face smeared with pie?”
“Shaggy shared with me.”
“Enough,” Jon said, more sharply than he’d intended. He patted both their auburn-haired heads. “Please excuse me.”
He went to his bed chamber and barred the door shut. He lay down on his bed and Ghost jumped up beside him. Jon remembered finding the direwolf well away from his pack-mates. Lately he seemed to belong to his pack no more than Ghost had belonged to his.
x. “The Wall?” Robb sounded as incredulous as if Jon had announced his intention to build a ship and sail to Old Valyria.
“What’s wrong with taking the black? Uncle Benjen’s a man of the Night’s Watch.”
“Nothing’s wrong with it. It’s only…Can’t you wait a few years?”
No, he wanted to snarl. Waiting wouldn’t change the fact that Robb was the lord-to-be and he was the bastard. Jon forced himself to grin instead. “The sooner I get my arse up there, the sooner they’ll make me Lord Commander.”
Robb returned his smile and clapped him on the back. “Mayhaps one day we’ll ride north side by side to battle a host of wildings and grumpkins.”
As terrible as it was, part of him wished that it was Robb going to the Wall.
xi. A loud moan emitted from the shadowed wall of the armory. Jon was careful not to look as he walked pass. He had grown up with such sounds and fleeting glimpses of the accompanying sights.
"Snow!"
He was tempted to continue walking when he recognized Greyjoy's voice, but Theon hadn't actually done anything to warrant such rudeness. Not lately, anyway. "What is it?"
Theon sauntered into view, lacing up his breeches. A young woman followed him, brushing dirt from her skirts. "Melesa here wanted to bid you farewell. She has an exquisite mouth; you'll not regret it."
Jon felt his cheeks heat in a blush despite himself. "I'm not interested."
Theon opened the girl's bodice and cupped her heavy breasts, holding them up for Jon's inspection. "Not interested in these lovelies?" He snorted. "The Wall's the right place for you then. All those lonely men must be more to your tastes."
"You misunderstood me, Greyjoy. I meant I was not interested in acquiring the pox or whatever else you passed to her."
"Is that so, Bastard?" Theon grinned maliciously. "Pack extra smallclothes. I hear it's cold on the Wall."
xii. A small group of them had been drinking after dinner. When Jon headed to his sleeping cell, Satin walked with him though his room was in a tower across the yard. Jon waited patiently for him to say whatever was on his mind but Satin didn't say a word. He held Jon's face between his soft hands and kissed him squarely on the lips. Jon just stood there for a moment, shocked. Then he pushed the boy who'd been a whore away.
"I'm sorry," Satin said. "I thought you were like me. You never go into Moletown to dig for buried treasure."
"No." Jon could feel himself blushing. "No. It's not that. Our oath…"
"Take no wife and father no children," Satin quoted softly.
For a moment Jon was tempted. It was so cold here. Satin would feel warm in his bed, and the thought of his hands and mouth made Jon's manhood stir. Off in the distance he heard the wind howling, sounding almost like a wolf. How honorable was it to look for loopholes in his vows? "I'm sorry," he told Satin, and continued on to his cold bed.
xiii. Despite the fire and his cloak and several layers of wool clothing, Jon was too cold to sleep. Sam was snoring softly beside him and several of their black brothers were telling stories and laughing nearby. He thought of the pregnant girl Sam had sent to him and guilt clawed at his insides again. There was nothing he could do for her. She was a wilding and the only business the Night's Watch had with wildings was to make sure they stayed on their side of the Wall. He thought of his sisters held captive by the Lannisters and wondered if there was someone laying awake in King's Landing and sadly reflecting that it wasn't his business to save them.
xiv. If he died here in the Stirling Pass, would anyone remember him? He wished Ghost hadn't gone off hunting. His black brothers were asleep on either side of him, but Jon still felt alone. He wanted his real brothers. Surely his brothers and sisters would weep for him when they learned of his death, the way the direwolves had howled for their lost sister.
But there would be no tomb beneath Winterfell for him. The crypt was for the remains of Starks, not Snows. Bastards had no place with the kings of winter. His body would be eaten by shadowcats or perhaps burned by the wildings...Or it would continue to roam after his death, attacking the men he'd once fought beside.
Would his mother mourn him? He remembered Lady Stark refusing to leave Bran's sickbed. His mother's grief would be much the same; that was how mothers were. But his mother might not be alive or she might not care, having given up her son never to see him again. No. His mother was a good woman, and highborn. She had to be. Lord Eddard would never consort with whores or take advantage of common girls the way some lordlings did. His mother was a lady and Father loved her but he had to wed Catelyn Tully on account of the war and his mother had died of a broken heart. She was waiting to greet him when he joined her in the afterlife. Jon drifted to sleep with thoughts of a beautiful woman with a warm smile drawing him into her arms.
xv. He went to sleep with Ygritte’s taste in his mouth and dreamt of being with her in Winterfell. He was the King in the North and she was his queen. They presided over a court of wildings and a giant came to petition them. The stables were filled with mammoths and Mance Rayder sang in the Great Hall. He and Ygritte made love in his father’s bed; only then Ygritte turned into Catelyn Stark and scolded him.
When Jon awoke he was ashamed to have even dreamt of usurping his brother’s place. As they traveled Ygritte spoke of the castle she would hold after the Wall fell, making him feel guilty. He would make sure her dreams never came true as surely as he would never allow his own dreams to tempt him.
xvi. Whenever he felt too weary to move, he drew Longclaw and just held it for a moment. A Valyrian steel sword was the sword of a hero. However he was no hero, only a bastard. Yet the Old Bear had felt him worthy of this sword. He could pretend to be a hero for a while.
xvii. There was snow melting in Sam’s hair when they bid each other farewell. There had been snow melting in Robb’s hair the last time Jon saw him. It could not be an omen, he told himself. What ill could befall Sam at the Citadel? Sam would be as safe as anyone could be in Westeros. If they never saw each other again, it was more likely to be because he’d died, not Sam.
xviii. "Troubled, Jon Snow?"
Jon had not heard the red woman approach, lost as he was wondering what to do about the coming war. "I am, my lady."
She walked pass him to stand nearer to the edge of the Wall than was prudent. "As you should be. The Evil One approaches."
The Others and their army of corpses and whatever dark gods backed them terrified him. But this woman scared him too. More than once he had thought that she was as evil as this nameless enemy she purported to fight. Mance Rayder's screams as he was burned alive still rang in Jon's ears.
She laid a hand on his arm and it seemed to Jon that he could feel her heat even through the layers of wool and mail and fur that covered him. She spoke as though she could tell what he'd been thinking. "The cost is high, I know. But sacrifice pleases R'hllor and we need His help."
He was no priest and the old gods of the forests were the only gods he knew. Perhaps Melisandre of Asshai was right. However Jon couldn't help think that this god of hers was as bad as the one he fought. "We need more men," he told her, "And dragonglass. Remember that in your prayers."
She moved her hand from his arm to his cheek. Her touch was nearly as warm as fire, though not unpleasant. Her eyes were red like his direwolf's and shone with some emotion he couldn't interpret. Men whispered that she had enslaved Stannis Baratheon with her sorcery, but Jon thought that her beautiful face and enticing body had surely played its part. She leaned closer, her lips parted as though she was meant to kiss him. He stroked her hair, which was as soft and silky as he'd known it would be.
He should push her. The fall seven hundred feet to the ground below would surely kill her, and he would never have to hear the screams of men condemned to the flames again. It wasn't fear of Stannis or the queen's men that stayed his hand; it was the fear that she was right, that she fought on the side of light and she was necessary for spring to come again. He let her hair fall from his grasp and moved away from her touch.
The look in her eyes was easy to read now. She was amused. Jon bowed stiffly to her and retreated.
xix. Jon rarely drank beyond a cup of wine or two with dinner. Tonight, however, he intended to get drunk. The babe had died. When he first thought to switch Mance Rayder’s son for Gilly’s babe, he had told himself that Gilly’s boy was weaker than Mance’s and likely to die anyway. Keeping the poor thing from its mother had only hastened the death that might not even have been inevitable.
Goat’s milk was not mother’s milk and a steward was not a nursemaid. He had killed the babe when he made his mother leave him behind and take another child in his place. Was what he had done so different from what he’d tried to prevent Melisandre from doing? Their reasons and methods might differ, but the end result was the same: a dead child.
“I left orders not to be disturbed,” he said coolly when the door to his bed chamber opened.
“Sorry, my lord. Was there anything you wanted?”
Jon recognized the intruder as Satin, the boy who’d been a whore in Oldtown. It wasn’t fair to call him a boy. He was a man grown, older than Jon. He’d told Jon once that he’d followed the Night’s Watch recruiter to the Wall because a boy whore lost most of his customers when he became a man.
“I wanted solitude.”
“I’m sorry. You usually dine with the men so I thought you might be unwell. Sam said to take care of you.”
“Give me your hand.”
Satin held out his hand without question. Jon caressed it lightly. It was near as hard and callused as any other man’s of the Watch. That was what the black did to a man, to his soul as well as his body. He raised that hand, hard but warm, to his lips and kissed it.
Title: 19 Random Moments From Jon Snow's Life
Rating: PG
Characters: Jon, the Stark family, Theon, Satin, Melisandre
Pairings: Jon/Satin, slight Jon/Melisandre, very slight Jon/Sansa, Jon/Ygritte
Word Count: 3,087
Summary: A collection of scenes from Jon Snow's life.
Note: I only remembered after I'd finished writing most of this that Satin was not part of the group of trainees Jon trained with. I would have liked to change it, but it was too vital to the story.
i. Jon always knew that Lady Stark was not his mother, that he had no mother. He didn't realize that there was anything wrong for a long time. Palla the kennelmaster's daughter didn't have a mother either. Her mother had died when she was born, and Jon assumed the same was true of his mother.
ii. When the snow melted away, the trees in the godswood bloomed with gold-green leaves and pastel blossoms. It was his first summer and it was the most beautiful thing Jon had ever seen. Then Arya was born. She was a tiny red thing with a cap of dark fuzz on her head. He and Robb snuck into the nursery to see her while Old Nan was asleep. Robb dared him to touch her and he did and she started crying. Afraid that someone would hear and they'd get in trouble, he picked her up and snuggled her close to his chest. She quieted, and suddenly she was more beautiful than summer and more precious than Winterfell.
iii. He'd always heard the word bastard and knew it referred to him, but he didn't understand what it meant until Theon Greyjoy informed him. He fell off his pony and Theon laughed, and Jon angrily told him to go away, that he wasn't a Stark and he didn't belong at Winterfell. That's when Theon said that Jon wasn't a Stark either. Theon said Lord Eddard had gotten him on some peasant wench and brought him home because he felt sorry.
iv. The first time he saw his father do justice, he was afraid of him for days afterwards. When Father took him to the godswood, Jon worried that Father had found out about the tart he'd stolen from the kitchen and he was going to cut off his hand because that's what happened to thieves. But Father held him in his lap and gently explained that he only delivered justice to very bad people and he'd never hurt Jon or his brothers and sisters or anyone at Winterfell.
v. When Lady Stark was pregnant with Bran, sometimes she would say to Father, "He kicked again."
Jon knew that he was getting a brother or sister and that he or she was inside Lady Stark. Once at dinner, she held Robb's hand against her big belly so he could feel the babe move. It took all his courage but Jon managed to ask if he could feel it too. Lady Stark's smile vanished, as it always did when she looked at him, and he was afraid she would say no. But she nodded and he hesitantly reached out to touch her belly. He felt something and he jerked his hand back almost immediately.
vi. "Jon." Arya bit her lip. "Am I a bastard too?"
Jon wondered where she'd gotten that idea from. "No. What makes you think that?"
"The new baby looks like Mother, just like Robb and Sansa and Bran, and I don't look like them so maybe I'm a bastard like you."
"It doesn't mean that you're a bastard. You just happen to look like Father, like me."
She still looked worried. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure." Jon ruffled her hair. "Your mother loves you, doesn't she? You're her daughter and a trueborn Stark."
Arya threw her skinny arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. "You're the best brother." She skipped off happily.
It wasn't her fault. She was too little to realize how she'd hurt him
vii. In all of his fourteen years Jon had never been more astonished than the day Sansa asked him to kiss her. "What?!”
"Kiss me," Sansa repeated, looking as innocent as if she'd suggested they build a snow-knight.
"I'm your brother!"
"You're only my bastard half-brother. Please, Jon. Jeyne says Robb kissed her and I want to be kissed too."
He pressed his lips to her forehead though he knew that wasn't the kind of kiss she wanted. "You don't want your first kiss to be with your brother, do you? And a bastard too. Why don't you wait until some handsome young lord comes along?"
She left looking crestfallen and it was only then that Jon remembered Theon Greyjoy. He could have suggested Theon to her, but the thought of Theon kissing his sister made his skin crawl. He watched Theon carefully after that, to make sure he didn’t realize Sansa was growing up and seek to take advantage of her.
viii. Unlike his brothers and sisters, Jon had not been presented to King Robert. At meals, he was seated far below the high table, beneath the notice of the royal family. It was purely by chance that he turned a hallway and nearly collided with the king one morning.
"Watch where you're going," snarled one of the Kingsguard. The man raised a hand to strike him, but the king stopped him.
"You're Ned's bastard," he said, seizing Jon's chin and peering at his face.
"I am, Your Grace," Jon confirmed.
"Ah, Ned's not so stiff. You're proof of that. His juices will flow again when we go south."
His father approached, saving Jon the need to reply to the king. Lord Eddard looked worried. "Jon, Ser Rodrik wants a word with you."
Jon ran to the First Keep where no one would bother him. He knew Ser Rodrik didn't really want to speak to him, that his father had just wanted him gone. He cried.
ix. “Jon, I beat Prince Tommen! I beat him.”
Jon had watched the trueborn boys spar from the bridge above the training yard. “I saw. You made me proud, Bran.”
“He’s nice. I like him. He petted Summer, but the queen saw and scolded him and told me she’d speak to my mother.”
“They don’t have direwolves in the south. It’s only natural that the queen would fear for her son’s safety. Some of our own men are afraid of the wolves.”
Bran sat down next to him. “Sansa’s going to marry the older one, Prince Joffrey. He’s going to be king and Sansa’ll be his queen. I’m going south with them too. I’m going to be a knight of the Kingsguard when I’m a man grown.”
Rickon came running up and tugged at Jon’s sleeve. “Gage threw a stone at Shaggy and then Farlen tied him up.”
Jon had been tired lately, though he was doing less than he had before the royal visit. He could feel his head starting to throb too. “What did Shaggy do?” he made himself ask.
“Shaggy was naughty.”
“Rickon has him steal food from the kitchen,” Bran said.
“Shaggy was hungry.”
“Wolves don’t eat apple pies; even a baby should know that.”
“I’m not a baby, and Shaggy likes pies.”
“So why was your face smeared with pie?”
“Shaggy shared with me.”
“Enough,” Jon said, more sharply than he’d intended. He patted both their auburn-haired heads. “Please excuse me.”
He went to his bed chamber and barred the door shut. He lay down on his bed and Ghost jumped up beside him. Jon remembered finding the direwolf well away from his pack-mates. Lately he seemed to belong to his pack no more than Ghost had belonged to his.
x. “The Wall?” Robb sounded as incredulous as if Jon had announced his intention to build a ship and sail to Old Valyria.
“What’s wrong with taking the black? Uncle Benjen’s a man of the Night’s Watch.”
“Nothing’s wrong with it. It’s only…Can’t you wait a few years?”
No, he wanted to snarl. Waiting wouldn’t change the fact that Robb was the lord-to-be and he was the bastard. Jon forced himself to grin instead. “The sooner I get my arse up there, the sooner they’ll make me Lord Commander.”
Robb returned his smile and clapped him on the back. “Mayhaps one day we’ll ride north side by side to battle a host of wildings and grumpkins.”
As terrible as it was, part of him wished that it was Robb going to the Wall.
xi. A loud moan emitted from the shadowed wall of the armory. Jon was careful not to look as he walked pass. He had grown up with such sounds and fleeting glimpses of the accompanying sights.
"Snow!"
He was tempted to continue walking when he recognized Greyjoy's voice, but Theon hadn't actually done anything to warrant such rudeness. Not lately, anyway. "What is it?"
Theon sauntered into view, lacing up his breeches. A young woman followed him, brushing dirt from her skirts. "Melesa here wanted to bid you farewell. She has an exquisite mouth; you'll not regret it."
Jon felt his cheeks heat in a blush despite himself. "I'm not interested."
Theon opened the girl's bodice and cupped her heavy breasts, holding them up for Jon's inspection. "Not interested in these lovelies?" He snorted. "The Wall's the right place for you then. All those lonely men must be more to your tastes."
"You misunderstood me, Greyjoy. I meant I was not interested in acquiring the pox or whatever else you passed to her."
"Is that so, Bastard?" Theon grinned maliciously. "Pack extra smallclothes. I hear it's cold on the Wall."
xii. A small group of them had been drinking after dinner. When Jon headed to his sleeping cell, Satin walked with him though his room was in a tower across the yard. Jon waited patiently for him to say whatever was on his mind but Satin didn't say a word. He held Jon's face between his soft hands and kissed him squarely on the lips. Jon just stood there for a moment, shocked. Then he pushed the boy who'd been a whore away.
"I'm sorry," Satin said. "I thought you were like me. You never go into Moletown to dig for buried treasure."
"No." Jon could feel himself blushing. "No. It's not that. Our oath…"
"Take no wife and father no children," Satin quoted softly.
For a moment Jon was tempted. It was so cold here. Satin would feel warm in his bed, and the thought of his hands and mouth made Jon's manhood stir. Off in the distance he heard the wind howling, sounding almost like a wolf. How honorable was it to look for loopholes in his vows? "I'm sorry," he told Satin, and continued on to his cold bed.
xiii. Despite the fire and his cloak and several layers of wool clothing, Jon was too cold to sleep. Sam was snoring softly beside him and several of their black brothers were telling stories and laughing nearby. He thought of the pregnant girl Sam had sent to him and guilt clawed at his insides again. There was nothing he could do for her. She was a wilding and the only business the Night's Watch had with wildings was to make sure they stayed on their side of the Wall. He thought of his sisters held captive by the Lannisters and wondered if there was someone laying awake in King's Landing and sadly reflecting that it wasn't his business to save them.
xiv. If he died here in the Stirling Pass, would anyone remember him? He wished Ghost hadn't gone off hunting. His black brothers were asleep on either side of him, but Jon still felt alone. He wanted his real brothers. Surely his brothers and sisters would weep for him when they learned of his death, the way the direwolves had howled for their lost sister.
But there would be no tomb beneath Winterfell for him. The crypt was for the remains of Starks, not Snows. Bastards had no place with the kings of winter. His body would be eaten by shadowcats or perhaps burned by the wildings...Or it would continue to roam after his death, attacking the men he'd once fought beside.
Would his mother mourn him? He remembered Lady Stark refusing to leave Bran's sickbed. His mother's grief would be much the same; that was how mothers were. But his mother might not be alive or she might not care, having given up her son never to see him again. No. His mother was a good woman, and highborn. She had to be. Lord Eddard would never consort with whores or take advantage of common girls the way some lordlings did. His mother was a lady and Father loved her but he had to wed Catelyn Tully on account of the war and his mother had died of a broken heart. She was waiting to greet him when he joined her in the afterlife. Jon drifted to sleep with thoughts of a beautiful woman with a warm smile drawing him into her arms.
xv. He went to sleep with Ygritte’s taste in his mouth and dreamt of being with her in Winterfell. He was the King in the North and she was his queen. They presided over a court of wildings and a giant came to petition them. The stables were filled with mammoths and Mance Rayder sang in the Great Hall. He and Ygritte made love in his father’s bed; only then Ygritte turned into Catelyn Stark and scolded him.
When Jon awoke he was ashamed to have even dreamt of usurping his brother’s place. As they traveled Ygritte spoke of the castle she would hold after the Wall fell, making him feel guilty. He would make sure her dreams never came true as surely as he would never allow his own dreams to tempt him.
xvi. Whenever he felt too weary to move, he drew Longclaw and just held it for a moment. A Valyrian steel sword was the sword of a hero. However he was no hero, only a bastard. Yet the Old Bear had felt him worthy of this sword. He could pretend to be a hero for a while.
xvii. There was snow melting in Sam’s hair when they bid each other farewell. There had been snow melting in Robb’s hair the last time Jon saw him. It could not be an omen, he told himself. What ill could befall Sam at the Citadel? Sam would be as safe as anyone could be in Westeros. If they never saw each other again, it was more likely to be because he’d died, not Sam.
xviii. "Troubled, Jon Snow?"
Jon had not heard the red woman approach, lost as he was wondering what to do about the coming war. "I am, my lady."
She walked pass him to stand nearer to the edge of the Wall than was prudent. "As you should be. The Evil One approaches."
The Others and their army of corpses and whatever dark gods backed them terrified him. But this woman scared him too. More than once he had thought that she was as evil as this nameless enemy she purported to fight. Mance Rayder's screams as he was burned alive still rang in Jon's ears.
She laid a hand on his arm and it seemed to Jon that he could feel her heat even through the layers of wool and mail and fur that covered him. She spoke as though she could tell what he'd been thinking. "The cost is high, I know. But sacrifice pleases R'hllor and we need His help."
He was no priest and the old gods of the forests were the only gods he knew. Perhaps Melisandre of Asshai was right. However Jon couldn't help think that this god of hers was as bad as the one he fought. "We need more men," he told her, "And dragonglass. Remember that in your prayers."
She moved her hand from his arm to his cheek. Her touch was nearly as warm as fire, though not unpleasant. Her eyes were red like his direwolf's and shone with some emotion he couldn't interpret. Men whispered that she had enslaved Stannis Baratheon with her sorcery, but Jon thought that her beautiful face and enticing body had surely played its part. She leaned closer, her lips parted as though she was meant to kiss him. He stroked her hair, which was as soft and silky as he'd known it would be.
He should push her. The fall seven hundred feet to the ground below would surely kill her, and he would never have to hear the screams of men condemned to the flames again. It wasn't fear of Stannis or the queen's men that stayed his hand; it was the fear that she was right, that she fought on the side of light and she was necessary for spring to come again. He let her hair fall from his grasp and moved away from her touch.
The look in her eyes was easy to read now. She was amused. Jon bowed stiffly to her and retreated.
xix. Jon rarely drank beyond a cup of wine or two with dinner. Tonight, however, he intended to get drunk. The babe had died. When he first thought to switch Mance Rayder’s son for Gilly’s babe, he had told himself that Gilly’s boy was weaker than Mance’s and likely to die anyway. Keeping the poor thing from its mother had only hastened the death that might not even have been inevitable.
Goat’s milk was not mother’s milk and a steward was not a nursemaid. He had killed the babe when he made his mother leave him behind and take another child in his place. Was what he had done so different from what he’d tried to prevent Melisandre from doing? Their reasons and methods might differ, but the end result was the same: a dead child.
“I left orders not to be disturbed,” he said coolly when the door to his bed chamber opened.
“Sorry, my lord. Was there anything you wanted?”
Jon recognized the intruder as Satin, the boy who’d been a whore in Oldtown. It wasn’t fair to call him a boy. He was a man grown, older than Jon. He’d told Jon once that he’d followed the Night’s Watch recruiter to the Wall because a boy whore lost most of his customers when he became a man.
“I wanted solitude.”
“I’m sorry. You usually dine with the men so I thought you might be unwell. Sam said to take care of you.”
“Give me your hand.”
Satin held out his hand without question. Jon caressed it lightly. It was near as hard and callused as any other man’s of the Watch. That was what the black did to a man, to his soul as well as his body. He raised that hand, hard but warm, to his lips and kissed it.