The bitter chill of the royal procession felt harsher than the cold of the Wall when Jon and his friends rejoined them. At first he'd assumed it was simply the shadow of Bran's fall, but soon he found out that had simply been the start. Since then Joffrey had been bitten and Lady slain as punishment for Nymeria's attack, Arya's wolf having been released into the wild by Arya in secret.
"Did you stop in Winterfell?" Ned asked him once they were alone.
"I have. I saw Bran, but father there's…" He sighed. "There was a catspaw who came for him after you left. He injured Lady Stark and nearly Bran before his wolf killed the man."
Ned's face fell and he asked for details so Jon gave what he could, telling him that Lady Stark had left to tell him with the dagger. He hadn't met them along the way, but they had sped south, not stopping at inns in their rush to meet the procession.
"How is he?" Ned asked with a frown.
"He looked as if he were sleeping," Jon said sat across from him. "He may as well been dreaming as I spoke to him."
"And Robb and Rickon?"
"They were well," said Jon. "Rickon is unsettled by all the changes, but I imagine once Lady Stark returns he will settle again. Robb seems a lord and was concerned for us all."
Ned nodded, then a moment later looked to Jon. "How was your journey?"
"Enlightening," Jon said carefully. "I've decided to go slowly, but in time I have to try."
Ned frowned, sitting back in his chair. "Must you?"
"Would you rather Joffrey given the power of the Iron Throne?"
Ned looked down and thought on all that had happened and all he'd learned. Sansa had been bereft when he executed Lady and sent her North to spare her becoming a pelt for the queen.
Most disturbing was it had been a sign that Jon was right about the prince's character being so tainted. Catelyn had told him of Sansa's concerns whenever Jon wrote to her with the harsh truths of King's Landing. She told him of the things she said to ease Sansa's worry, and found himself hoping Jon was wrong. He didn't like to think Robert's son could be so cruel, and yet he had no doubt the boy had lied, seeming to inherit the cruelty of his mother which drove her to want an innocent death. If Arya was right then how bad could things have gotten if Nymeria had not been there? What else of Jon's warnings was true? Ned felt himself shiver at the thought of such a boy growing to a man with the power of the crown.
Worst of all had been the moment he overheard Sansa in her tent sniffling after an argument with Arya, telling herself, "If it's true then I can change him." In that moment he wished Catelyn had never assured Sansa as she had, let her be safe away from him. He wanted to go and break the betrothal in that moment, but knew he couldn't without it being a grave insult, one the queen and her cruel prince would use again him no doubt.
"I ask you let your northern blood prevail," Ned said meeting his eyes. "Be ice and let it cool you. If we must go about this then let it be done slowly and carefully. I do not want to fight another war, so let us find another way than taking it to the field."
"I agree," Jon nodded. "We have time and King's Landing has many a shadow to hide us if we try to weave our way."
"Who all knows?"
"I told Dom and Sam once we left, before I found Ghost."
Ned nodded, having expected that. He'd been relieved to see Jon had a direwolf, and though he feared the queens wroth upon seeing it, Robert had helped him keep it.
"The matter was settled," Robert said firmly. "The boy and his wolf were in the north."
"So we must suffer another beast in our midst?" Cersei asked looking to the direwolf at Jon's side as she clutched Joffrey's shoulder.
"If it please your grace," Jon said carefully, "I promise Ghost will stay at someone's side while in the city and will be kept in quarters at night or let beyond the walls of the city to hunt hares and the like."
Robert wore a relieved smile, thankful to have some obedience for once. "Good lad."
"You said wolves are no pets-"
"If the beast goes mad and attacks someone then slit its throat," Robert cut in, his teeth grit, annoyed with the queen's whinging, "but if I see a drop of blood red upon the wolf's fur before then you'll be going against your king and I'll have the boy flog whoever does it until their back is raw!"
Sansa had wept upon seeing the direwolf, but while Jon spoke with Ned he had Sam with the direwolf and Sansa, who had taken to her tent to pet and groom him.
"I doubt you've met anyone else on your way North," said Ned. "But at the Wall?"
"The Maester and I spoke," Jon said with a nod. "He was friendly and even said he'd write to me in King's Landing to feed a young mind with such an interest in history."
"You sure that's smart?"
"Aemon is an old man who lived a long life," said Jon. "Who better than an old maester to give another view on history? Plus he's offered to look into the egg."
Ned sat up. "Does he think it more than a rock?"
"He told me we can't know what we don't know, and I don't know." Jon shrugged lightly. "I also told Robb."
Ned shook his head. "What? Why?"
"Because he's Lord of Winterfell while you're away and I want Winterfell to be my first ally. He's my brother, he deserves to know and had reason to. Though he's promised and sworn to keep it to himself, sharing it not even with Lady Stark or Theon."
Ned sighed, rubbing his brow. "What have you told him to do?"
"Nothing," Jon said to Ned's relief. "I just wanted him to know what will come. Let me be Jon Snow, let me earn some recognition and find who I can trust as allies. Find who else sees the kingdom crumbling beneath a stag as a poisoned lion waits in its shadow."
Seeing his desire for patience loosened the knot in Ned's stomach. "Good. Will you tell Ser Loras as well?"
"I don't think I should," Jon said, his regret apparent, "Dom and Sam agreed. He is too close to Renly, the risk too great."
"You would lie to your friend?" Ned asked with a flicker of surprise.
"If I must," said Jon, "only until we know for certain what will become of Renly and the Tyrells."
"How long do you plan to wait?"
"However long I must to make sure it's a fight I can win. Let the people bloat under Robert while I gather and when the crown comes to pass I will take it." Jon leaned forward. "But for now I start by asking the Hand of the King and preferably King Robert himself to help the realm."
In Robert's tent he scoffed as Jon told him of his journey to the Wall with Ned at his side. "That old dragon still lives?"
"If you call it living, your grace," Jon said pitifully. "He is frail and alone and blind, needing a steward to write and read to him. I even read for him while I was there since I was imposing upon his time and intruding his library and maester chambers."
Robert shook his head. "You're too kind."
"And it is that kindness that asks your grace to send word to the Citadel and have them send another to take his place when age finally claims him. Let them come now so the castle isn't left without a maester, else I fear we risk losing contact with them should all the men capable of reading and writing and handling a rookery die."
"And what's to kill them up there? A chill? Shall we send them more furs?"
"Wildings, your grace," said Ned. "They sneak past the wall frequently enough. Most take to raiding and either escape back beyond the wall or die against northern warriors, but if they should take to raiding the keeps from the south, with enough men then they could open the gates and let their kind through, let them reave until the North is red with blood."
Robert groaned, downing the rest of his wine and holding it out for a refill. "And what should I do? Damn good men to freeze their balls off alongside men from our cells?" He sighed, taking a drink. "Write to the Citadel, Ned, have them send someone to get rid of the dying dragon."
Jon was glad for even that much, bowing his head to Robert in thanks before leaving the tent. His nervousness left him feeling foolish, as if he'd feared Robert somehow being able to know the truth now that Jon did.
The rest of their ride passed without incident. Jon hoped to introduce Myrcella to Ghost but knew better than to try with Cersei and Joffrey around. Even Jaime kept his distance from Jon, sticking to the wheelhouse.
Jon, Dom and Sam rode into the city with the Starks and while Ned was called to a small council meeting they escorted Arya and Sansa to their chambers. Once they'd seen the Starks off and made their way toward their own quarters they found Loras waiting for them.
The men exchanged brief hugs before Loras looked them over with a smirk. "Seems the North wasn't too bad on you." Looking to Sam he asked, "Was it as dreary as I imagine?"
Sam chuckled and shook his head. "No, it had it's own beauty separate from the Reach."
"And here I thought you'd all be so bored and cold you'd return with smiles," Loras said with a laugh.
"I hope you weren't too bored without us," Jon teased, hoping to deflect or end the discussion before letting his guilt build. "Though I'm sure you were busy serving your lord."
Loras shot Jon a playful glare. "At least I have one to serve."
Jon chuckled. "I simply have higher standards."
Loras laughed, nodding as he looked them over. "I missed you all."
"And we missed you," Jon said with a nod, "but I'm afraid we traveled further north than the others." He answered Loras's questioning gaze saying, "I talked these two into a trip to the Wall to see the Night's Watch and Castle Black at least once."
Loras shook his head, looking pitifully upon Domeric and Sam. "You poor fools."
"It wasn't too bad," Domeric assured.
"It was incredible," said Sam. "It stretched across the horizon and glittered in the sunlight."
That made Loras arch his brow. "Perhaps I'll need to see it someday."
"If you do I pray you don't need to ride your horse ragged to catch up with a royal procession," said Jon. "It's left me aching for bed if only to lay there and be still."
"I pity the girl who takes you to bed if all you do is lay there," Loras said with a grin, patting Jon's shoulder.
They departed for their rooms and Jon made his way to his. It wasn't long after that Domeric knocked on his door and entered, setting aside his bag and harp to help Jon lift his mattress.
Cersei forcing the staff to ignore Jon would be a boon now that Jon was the only one who handled his bed, the sheets left for him to change himself. It left him little worry someone would stumble upon the spot where they cut open his mattress and stuck Dark Sister and his egg within. After filling it with extra innards Domeric had pilfered to keep a soft shape, they carefully stitched it closed so there was little hint of the tear's existence. He'd never once hidden anything beneath it, keeping his letters elsewhere, places others surely knew he used well enough to not bother checking the mattress year on.
He knew how and where he laid, so that night he found the bed no less comfortable, though when he woke nearly every day after he found his hand resting atop the same spot over the egg that lay beside him every night.
When he set out to range beyond the Wall, Benjen stopped to pray before a weirwood, asking the Gods to look over Jon and help him and his friends where he could not.
He'd trekked through the Haunted Forest countless times, but looking for lost brothers was never easy. Most of the time they never found them, their corpses surely dragged away by the beasts of the forest. Still, they had to look.
This search quickly became one he disliked as they found themselves hounded near constantly by an unkindness of ravens once they entered the forest. Thankfully their squawking quieted enough for them to sleep when needed. Othor complained of the shit down his cloak he noticed while taking a piss one night, but any complaints Benjen had ended when he first heard the raven squawk, "Fire."
His brow furrowed as he sat against a trunk and looked up to the ravens sat on the branches above them. "Fire. Fire. Fire."
Benjen rose to his feet and looked around them expecting to see smoke, but all he saw was the black trees against the night barely lit by the small fire they'd built. Then he saw the blue star between the trees, glowing as it grew and he soon realized it wasn't a star. It was an eye.
"Make a torch," he told the men, who looked to him oddly but did as he ordered.
Before Jafer Flowers even handed it to him, Benjen's brow furrowed, raising the torch in hopes the light would weave through the trees, reflecting off the snow enough to give him a better view of the young man he recognized. "Waymar?"
The others all rose to join Benjen in looking to their lost brother, but soon found themselves staring at eight more sets of bright blue eyes. Benjen felt his heart skip a beat as he thought back on the stories he'd heard. "Wights."
At once the men drew their swords while Benjen stared at a shard of steel sticking through Waymar's non glowing eye. A raven landed on his shoulder briefly, startling him as he looked to it and it squawked. "Fire. Fire. Fire."
Benjen looked from the raven which flew off his shoulder to join the dozens suddenly settling upon the trees around them. "Make more torches!" He called out, the men snapping off branches to ignite them.
The wights drew closer and the rangers found themselves facing shambling men with rotting, blackened flesh. Benjen led the charge forward, slashing at Waymar's hand, cleaving two fingers yet the undead man grabbed his arm with the remaining eight. With a grunt Benjen turned and knocked Waymar aside, thrusting his sword through the brother's stomach when he approached again, yet found Waymar simply stepped forward to try and grab Benjen's throat.
Ripping the sword free, Benjen slammed the torch in his left hand into the wight's arm, letting the flames catch and ignite his clothes as Benjen backed away. A glance to the others revealed them battling off their own wights, more seeming to have come from the sides now being attacked by the unkindness of ravens pecking at their rotted flesh.
"Brother!" The shout cut through the mix of grunts, yells and squawks, drawing Benjen's gaze to a figure behind them, muffled head to heels in mottled blacks and greys and sat atop an elk. He extended a hand to Benjen, seeming to ignore the others being overwhelmed by the blue eyed men. "Even the brave retreat."
Benjen turned back, wanting to help his brothers but saw Othor being strangled by a wight while another drove an axe into Jafer's neck. All around him his brothers were dying, so Benjen turned and took the rider's hand, noting it was cold and black.
As the elk sped away, Benjen turned back and saw his brothers laying in the snow rise with blue eyes as all turned to watch Benjen and his savior flee toward the Wall.