Capítulo 4: Grief is the Price we pay for Love
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Two Months Later
The gentle breeze of the cold could be felt in his skin, his fingers digging deep into the small spaces between the rocks; he released a breath before lifting himself with the strength of his fingers, the aching all but gone. Not even blood to make his fingers slippery; it was too easy to climb like this, Jon thought as he pulled his feet out of the small opening he had found; he was sure the place had been used by ravens a month ago.
'Always make sure the stone will not crumble down, boy.' He repeated the words his great-grandfather had told him. With his feet, he searched, trying to find a good enough space between rocks for his feet to rest on. His fingers found one, barely big enough for his feet to slide in. As he put pressure on it, the rock cracked and crumbled down. Jon breathed heavily as he watched the little rocks fall from the tower.
Looking over his shoulders, Jon could see the entire forest surrounding Breakstone Hill. The wind's bite was cold and sharp on his naked neck, but Jon paid it little mind as he searched with his feet once again. Soon, he found another opening between rocks, which handled his weight.
Jon sighed heavily as he lifted himself upwards again, his eyes looking up. The window that led to his great-grandfather's chamber was open. Just ten more steps, and he would be there. His purple eyes quickly noticed a big enough opening just two feet above his head.
He swallowed thickly, his hair dancing with the wind as he lifted himself further upwards, his fingers grasping the opening, but just as he was about to climb further up, he felt something touch his fingers. Jon found another opening with his feet and climbed upwards more; now he could see what was inside the big opening, only to see pale black eyes looking back at him; the feathers hadn't grown yet, and his beak had a yellowish color, his eyes closed, and the skin was a dark purple.
'A baby raven!' Jon thought when he noticed something else. Something that made his heart stop: near this baby raven, laying near its feet, was another one, but this one wasn't moving, and a deep red gash was across its belly; the baby raven paid Jon's little attention and turned towards the second unmoving bird, it's beak digging deep into the red gash, pulling out...
Jon looked away, shuddered, and ignored what he saw as he kept climbing upwards; as his fingers dug deep into another opening, he wondered why life was so cruel. It wasn't just humans; he had seen wolves ripping apart a goat. Violence was always everywhere, the hunter hunting the prey, the hunter going after the newborn; Jon had seen how brutal life could be, his great-grandfather coming home with what he had caught in the woods, but that's how life had been since men existed, even before them.
Life is Cruel, Jon thought, but then remembered the way Lady Bella laughed with Derek, the way the two looked at one another, the way she smiled at his awful jokes. Jon knew life could be cruel, but life could be beautiful, too.
Jon remembered his last talk with Rhae. Not much was discussed, but she had let it slip that Ari's full name was Arianne. Jon knew Rhae lived in a rich place; her chamber was wide, beautiful, and decorated as if she was a Princess. After asking the Maester. He had told him that Prince Doran Martell's daughter was named Arianne Martell. Jon had decided to ask Rhae in the next meeting if she was Arianne's cousin or something; it would make sense since the Maester told him that Prince Oberyn Martell had nine daughters.
Escaping his thoughts, Jon used the strength of his right leg and pushed him upwards; his hand reached out, grasping the wooden windowsill; using all the strength of his hands, he pushed himself, his feet using the small opening around to push himself upwards even more, until his upper body was inside the chamber, his stomach pressing against the wooden windowsill, until with a final push of his leg, he fell inside the chamber on his back, he groaned from the pain, sir escaping his lungs, but he ignored that when he felt faint clapping near him.
Jon quickly leaned his head forward and saw Lord Anden sitting on a wooden chair, clapping just loud enough for Jon to hear.
The old lord smiled as he stood up and offered his hand to Jon, who quickly grasped it, helping himself up. Now standing on his feet, Jon breathed heavily as the man patted him on the back with a rare smile on his rough features. Jon had never seen him smile before.
"You have done well, boy. Now all left is climbing the wall, and you will be a true Flint. Derek has told me your training is going well. None of the Southerners will hold a candle in front of you, boy. Remember what I told you. Names matter little, your deeds show your worth. Snow, Stark, Flint, Lannister, Baratheon, Targaryen. Those names are worthless if the men holding that name is worthless. Deeds are everything." Jon's heart swelled with joy upon hearing that.
Over a year had passed since he left Winterfell. Every now and then, he wondered what Robb was doing back home. Was he training? Who was his friend now that Jon was gone? The thought gave him a feeling of longing, but all that disappeared like a puff of smoke when he remembered the stares, the way they all looked at him, especially Lady Fish.
The stares never happened here; they were all welcomed here, and now, Lord Anden was willing to see him as a Flint and give Jon his own name. The thought of having his name was something Jon had desired for so long, but deep down, he knew he desired someone else's name, his father's name.
In his dreams, Jon saw himself sitting in his father's seat, everyone calling him Lord of Winterfell; Robb was his Maester At Arms and a beautiful woman with purple eyes beside Jon. Jon didn't know how, but he was sure she was Rhaenys in his dreams.
Jon would wake up feeling a pang of shame in his heart. He used to pray to the Old Gods to forgive him for what he desired. He knew what he wanted. He knew he shouldn't want it; it belonged to Robb, but Jon knew he wanted what Robb had, and much more.
"Thank you, my Lord," Jon said gratefully, looking up at the man who was almost three times as tall as him.
"Tomorrow is your great day, boy. I want you to be prepared." The man said, shifting from praising him to speaking with a hint of warning.
"Great Day? Do I have to go hunting with you?" Jon asked with growing excitement. He had wanted to see his great-grandfather hunt for a long time, but the man didn't give him a good answer.
"Be prepared for tomorrow. I will hear no excuses. Now, go to your grandmother before she crushes someone's head." Jon snickered; his grandmother could get quite protective.
It didn't take long to find his grandmother, but what he didn't expect was to find her discussing something with Lady Bella. He didn't know what they were discussing, but he didn't want to get in between them. His thoughts kept coming back to what his great-grandfather said.
'The Great Day,' Jon mumbled under his breath, wondering what that meant and whether he would get the name Flint. Jon didn't know, and he couldn't wait until the next day came. Thankfully, Derek was there to train him so he could spend the time of this day.
Tomorrow
The day started as usual; nothing special happened in his bedchamber, but when he sat beside his grandmother to break their fast in the Great Hall, his plate was empty; there was no food anywhere. Jon was about to call a servant to bring food when his grandmother interrupted him.
"Don't waste your breath, my dear." Jon looked at her with confusion. His great-grandfather grabbed a bow strapped on his back; he extended it towards Jon, who grabbed it from his hand.
"The only thing you will eat is what you manage to hunt today, boy. We will go hunting, and if you catch something, you will sleep with your belly full." Jon now understands why his plate was empty. His fingers grasped around the wooden bow, his fingers causing the oak wood to creak slightly.
"What if I don't capture anything today?"
"Then you will capture tomorrow. No food for you until you manage to secure your own food." Jon saw the way his grandmother wanted to defend him, but Lord Anden quickly gave her a cold look. His grandmother was never one to back down, not even from her own father.
"Father, Jon is too young still. I think this is too much. He deserves a reward after he was able to climb your tower yesterday from the bottom to your window." His grandmother passionately defended her grandson, but the giant of a man let out a chuckle that sounded more like he was mocking her.
"The boy is ready, Lyarra. I would have never told him to do this if I thought he was not ready. Now, do you want to do this, boy, or are you giving up?" the man asked in a tone that made it clear there would be no second chances.
Jon felt his heart swell ten times its size. He would not disappoint the man who was keeping him in his castle and allowing him to live and not be called a bastard, not even once. "When are we starting?" Jon asked eagerly as he jumped down from the chair. The man gave him a look of acknowledgment before motioning for him to follow him.
"Jon. Be careful out there." His grandmother kissed his cheek tenderly as he walked past her to follow the man.
Once they walked into the castle's stall, two squires were already preparing their horses, which was a first since Jon always prepared his own horse. He grabbed the leather strap the squire handed to him. Leonard was his horse's name. He was a beautiful one with white hair like snow. The horse let out a neigh when he saw Jon, who reached up and patted him on the head like a dog.
"Good boy," said Jon in a baby voice as he checked the saddle to see if everything was ready. He gripped the saddle strap and pulled it. It seemed the saddle would not accidentally slide off the horse while riding.
"Ready boy?" Jon heard his great-grandfather ask from behind him.
Jon lifted up his feet, putting it on the stirrup, before giving himself a push with the other leg mounting his horse, who let out a noise from his mouth; his grandmother had told him that horses made that sound when they were happy, so Jon grabbed an apple from the bag strapped to the saddle, and reached forward, moving it close to Leonard's mouth, who quickly devoured with a big smile. Jon chuckled cutely before turning to face his great-grandfather.
"I'm ready."
Later
The air was cold in Breakstone Hill. The forests were barren, and only the sound of chirping birds and humming insects was audible to anyone who was there to listen. Jon and Anden dismounted their horses, grabbing the leather straps before throwing them on a nearby tree branch, making sure the horses wouldn't run away without them.
Jon was armed with his bow, a stack of arrows strapped on his back, and the small knife his great-grandfather had given him the first day he had come here.
"Do you have the knife I gave you?" The bear man asked with his deep, grumpy voice, looking down at the small child who was tall enough to reach his knees.
"Yes, Great Grandfather." Jon answered, unsheathing the knife from the hostler that he had made himself.
Lady Bella had been persistent that he needed to know how to stitch. When Jon had heard that for the first time, he had complained that needles weren't his job, but Lady Bella wanted to hear none of it before reminding him that he might have the need to make something for himself; Jon still didn't care to use a needle until his grandmother told him to make a hostler for the knife Lord Anden had given him. It had taken two months for Jon to make that hostler, but he was proud of his work, even if he often stabbed his fingers while working with the needle, especially in the first two weeks. It was a nightmare.
As he held this knife, he could feel resolve burning inside him. Jon gazed at the knife, admiring it while mulling over his thoughts. As he did this, Anden stepped forward.
"Your mother taught you to hunt?" Anden asked.
"Only lessons, and I got to watch her hunt down rabbits once."
"Show me."
"What are we hunting?" Jon asked as he looked around, his eyes caughting sight of a bird flying away.
"You are hunting deer." he heard the man talk from behind as he jumped over a puddle.
"Which way?" Jon asked, his eyes flickered at the bear man over his shoulder.
"In the direction of the deer."
His great-grandfather's bluntness put off Jon, which didn't give him any answers. "Okay...? Uhh... this way." Jon began a quick sprint, running deeper into the forest. Anden stood from behind, allowing the boy to take the lead.
"Great grandfather, why are we doing this now?"
"I need to know you can survive on your own."
"Do you really think I can survive on my own?"
"That depends on you. Despite your name, you have Flint blood in your veins."
Jon didn't know what to say, but he respected the old man greatly. He had known him only for over a year, but he never saw it as shameful to say Jon had Flint blood in his veins, something his father never did. He never once said that Jon had the Stark blood on him.
And he will never tell me about my mother, Jon remembered.
The two wandered through the woods, hearing nothing but the sound of water running through the stream, waiting to pick up on the sound of any animals nearby.
After this brief silence, Anden saw the boy standing over something on the ground. "What did you find?" the great-grandfather asked.
"Tracks. Not deer, though. I'll keep looking."
As the two continued the hunt, Anden watched from afar, observing the boy's actions while maintaining awareness of his surroundings. While keeping watch of his surroundings, he noticed something that the boy had passed.
"Boy, you missed these." Jon walked over to the mud puddle, where his great-grandfather was kneeling to observe the footprints.
"Huh. They're close, but also not deer. See? The tips are too wide. They must be a mountain goat." The great-grandfather couldn't help but be impressed at the boy's knowledge of this subject.
"Your grandmother taught you well," he said. Jon felt a small smidge of joy hearing his great-grandfather compliment him.
"Yea..." The boy solemnly returned to his original place. They continued investing all their energy into the hunt. It took several more minutes of wandering through the woods before they found what they were looking for. Trotting from deep within the woods, a deer appeared a few meters before Jon. This deer was far larger than average. Its fur was snow white, its horns several inches long, and curled upward like a thorny crown.
"There it is!" Jon whispered.
"Hold!" said Anden. But the boy did not take heed: the child immediately acted on impulse and drew his bow. But his form was sloppy, and he ended up missing the shot. The deer quickly fled into the forest in fear. The great-grandfather felt his anger bubbling up and stomped toward the boy.
"What are you doing?" he growled, yanking the bow from the boy's hands. Now he is running away. I told you to Hold It--" Anden could see the fear and guilt in his eyes and took a deep breath. With a more controlled yet stern voice, he finished his sentence: "When I tell you to hold it, you hold it. Always listen to my orders."
Jon looked at his great-grandfather with a defeated expression. "I'm sorry..." he said. But Anden would not let the boy accept defeat now.
"Do not be sorry. Be better." Jon stared his great-grandfather in the eye and could feel the meaning of these words of wisdom seep into his bones. "Find it."
As the pair continued going through the forest, they left the wooded area and approached what appeared to be the ruins of a long-abandoned castle wreathed in vines and shrubbery.
Jon looked at the abandoned walls; he had never seen walls like this. Nature had taken over everything, twisting around the place in the form of tree veins as if wanting to swallow the entire castle. It looked nothing like it once looked many years ago. The closest thing he could compare it to was the old tower back at Winterfell, but even that tower was in a much better shape than this place; he briefly wondered who could have lived in this place and why people left. Jon knew not.
"This place used to belong to House Flint," Anden suddenly said with a hint of melancholy, seeing the boy's curiosity. That was good. Curiosity leads to the seeking of knowledge, and knowledge leads to power. Anden knew that, and he hoped the boy would learn that, too, one day.
"Why is it abandoned?" Jon asked as his hand touched the green veins that made up most of the walls.
"I remembered being here when I was a boy-" His eyes flickered at Jon before continuing. "-Like you. This place we are right now, it used to be the library. Such tragedy." Anden continued as he reached out, grabbing a book from a shelf that had fallen on the ground, covered in a thick layer of dust.
"What happened?"
Anden opened his mouth to answer. He could almost hear the people screaming. "Sometimes it's better to let some wounds close, boy. Your deer is still waiting for you." Upon mentioning the deer, Jon quickly started tracking him down, with Anden following him behind.
They continued along the path and got a better view of the ruined building. They came across a large door painted blue, which Anden pushed open.
"Look!" Jon spotted the deer a few dozen meters away on the other side of the door, standing in the snow. The duo knelt, Anden waiting for Jon to see what he'd say next.
"Should I let my arrow loose?" Jon asked, looking at the man.
"Can you hit it from here?" Jon wanted to protest and insist that he had the skill to fire at such a long-range, but his rational side knew better.
"We should get closer." The child rushed down the stairs to navigate the castle while his great-grandfather walked behind.
Once they made it outside again, Jon followed the dirt path to where he predicted the deer would be. As he thought, the deer was casually grazing on some grass only a dozen meters away, near the edge of a cliff. Jon and Anden knelt, and the boy took aim.
"Hold it," he said, "Stop shaking your hands. Do not think of it as an animal." Jon readied an arrow while he drew back the string. He took a deep breath to relax his mind and muscles. He needed a clean shot, and his great-grandfather was there to help him make it. Jon needed to aim at a vital spot and found that the chest area was where he'd have the highest chance of success.
"Steady yourself. Now exhale... and release." The arrow was let loose and struck the animal. The deer bellowed and fell to the ground, writhing in pain. Jon smiled, and he looked to his great-grandfather for validation.
"I got it!"
"Good." Jon rushed down to the deer's location. But when he approached it, he found that the animal was still breathing, losing strength but using its energy to squirm in frustration. Anden knelt down near the deer's head. He knew what the next step was.
"Boy, your knife." The boy took out the knife, expecting his great-grandfather to finish the dying animal off, but he was mistaken. "No. Finish what you started."
As he held the blade, the weight of this small piece of metal suddenly felt like a block of steel threatening to sink his hand to the ground. He had the blade with both his hands, inches from the deer's throat. All he needed to do was push down and cut its windpipe. But looking into the deer's bright blue eyes, he could not find the strength.
"I can't."
Anden placed both his hands around the boy's hands. The man gently pushed the blade into the deer's flesh. The deer cried out, but there was nothing it could do. Now that the blade had gone in, Anden released his hands and watched as the boy fully sunk the knife into the deer's throat. Jon watched as the deer's breathing slowly stopped, its eyes closing to begin its eternal slumber.
Jon was at a loss. He had just killed a creature, sunk his blade into its throat, and watched it take its last breath. "I..." He wanted to find the words to express his conflicting emotions, the horror of killing an innocent creature in such a brutal manner.
But he could not find his voice and stared out into the forest to dwell on these feelings. Anden could see the conflict in the boy's eyes and understood how much of a step this was for him. He reached his hand out, attempting to place it on the boy's shoulder. But as his hand hovered inches away from Jon's shoulder, he lost his will.
So, instead, Lord Anden took the knife out from the dead deer's throat and held it out for Jon. The boy held the blade in his hands and gazed at it momentarily. At least Jon wouldn't have to use it to take another life.
"You have done well, Jon." Anden said comforting words to the boy.
Jon was struck that his great-grandfather called him by his name instead of just calling him 'boy,' something he had done since he had arrived at this place. "But I killed it." Jon stammered. The deer had stopped moving, and his eyes were closed, but his skin was still warm under the touch,
"Jon. This is the world we live in. It might be cruel, but you have to understand this world will not wait for you to be ready. It will crush you under its weight if you are not prepared. People will use that gentle heart of yours against you. Remember these words, Jon. When you face your enemies, close your heart to their desperation, close your heart to their suffering. In the end, only the winner will remain standing, the loser will be eaten by maggots."
Jon didn't know what to feel. He remembered what Lady Bella had told him, telling him that one should always find it in their hearts to forgive someone else. If one does not know what mercy is, one day, they will be surrounded by their friends' bones and their enemies' daggers.
"I understand, Great Grandfather," Jon answered; the man seemed to have heard the uncertainty of his voice but said nothing. Instead, he stood up and looked down at the deer, twice as big as Jon. The boy thought his grandfather would drag it by its antlers, but instead, he reached down with his big hands like giant sausages and grabbed the deer by the upper and lower sides of his belly with a good grip.
Jon watched, amazed, as his father lifted the deer up like it weighed nothing, pulling it over his shoulder before looking down at his great-grandson. "Ready to return home?"
Jon wanted to say 'yes,' but no words came out. Instead, he nodded his head and stood up, dusting off the snow from his clothes. This time, it was his great-grandfather leading him forward.
"Great Grandfather, how did you get so strong?" Jon asked after a minute of silence. All he could hear was the sound of the snow crunching under his boots, but he noticed the man had yet to answer.
"My lord, are you-" "Quite." Jon quickly closed his mouth before grabbing the bow from his back; an arrow ready, he took aim. The bow's strings stretched as he looked around, but all he could see were the trees when he noticed. Someone moving swiftly between two trees. Jon felt the heart beating in his throat like a hammer; he wanted to say something, to let the arrow loose on the leg of someone hiding behind the tree twenty feet away from him.
"Quite. Let me handle it. Stay Behind." The man ordered with a tone that made it clear this wasn't up to discussion. Jon watched as he threw down before grasping the long axe strapped to his back.
"Look who it is."
"A little lord, and a giant. Never expected to see one south of the wall."
"Give us the deer, and you won't be harmed."
"Give us the boy too. I always like young ears on my necklace."
"What about his little skull? You take the ears. I will skin his face."
Jon felt sick as around ten people wearing rags appeared out of the woods like animals, holding clubs made of bones and make-up knives. Their words made him sick. The fear gripped his heart, but he swallowed thickly, remembering his training—he was not a coward. His hands gripped around his bow before quickly aiming at the ugly one, the closest to him. He stopped advancing, as did his group when they saw the boy aiming his arrow at them.
Anden watched them closely, his grip around the axe's handle tightened as he narrowed his eyes. "You have brought no army with you to defeat me, and none of you are Arthur Dayne. You have no chance of winning." Anden warned them with a deep voice like a beast.
"Did you hear the giant? He thinks we need an army for him." One laughed, quickly followed by the rest of the wilding party.
"Leave now, wildings. I might let you live, but take one more step closer towards my kin. I will kill all of you, your bodies will be feast for the wild animals. I Won't give you the honor of burning your bodies, or burying you."
The one in the front burst out laughing, showing his ugly teeth. "You mean like this." The wildling took a step closer...
Jon would have shouted in fear, but the scream died in his throat. He blinked several times, and watched a small bolt was where the wilding's right eye used to be. Not even a scream, and he was already on the ground, no longer moving.
"Jaara!!" One shouted in horror before he took off running towards Anden, but the giant of a man quickly grabbed his arm before punching him in the face; his skull shattered, and the bones burst out of the right side of his face like pieces of ice.
Three more rushed towards Anden, but he quickly used the body of the second wilding as a shield, blocking the attacks, and with a single swing of his axe, the third one's head flew high into the air like an arrow followed by a trail of blood.
Jon watched transfixed as his great-grandfather kicked the fourth one with his feet; the fourth one screamed in pain and fear until her face was smashed in by Anden's foot, and a burst of blood flew in the air, turning the snow red.
Four other wildings rushed from behind the giant man, but Anden quickly took several steps back to ensure they were always in front of him. The third body was still used as a shield; two more rushed towards him like headless chickens, but Anden swung his great axe, slicing through their bodies with one swing, and their guts fell on the snow. Their cries of pain continued as Anden threw the third body towards one, causing him to stumble and fall. Anden quickly swung his axe down, cutting him in half from the waist down, and only three wildings were left. The seventh one rushed towards him, but she sank to her knees, with an arrow sticking out of the back of her leg.
"Kill the child!" The ninth one screamed, but Anden quickly threw the axe towards the tenth one; the axe flew towards him with such strength that it stabbed his chest and kept moving until it stabbed the tree behind with the wilding stuck on it, whose legs remained two feet above the ground as his blood dripped down.
The ninth quickly looked at Anden, who had no weapon now; with his knife bone, he rushed forward, trying to stab him, but Anden quickly grabbed him by the throat with one hand and with the other grabbing his wrist.
"Worms," Anden growled before closing the grip around the neck. A loud snap sound echoed, and the man's head fell behind, no longer moving. Anden scoffed as he let go of the body, only now he noticed that the eighth one was still alive, the arrow still on her leg; she breathed heavily as she looked up at the man approaching her.
"Please, m'Lord. Spare Me. I will do everything you want. Spare Me Please." The woman cried and sobbed, but Anden paid her no mind. Instead, he looked at Jon, who had remained frozen in place. He couldn't really blame him, after all. This was his first taste of a real battle, and everyone froze in their place at the sight of people dying.
"Jon, come here." The boy's eyes perked up like a deer's before shuffling towards him. His eyes tried to avoid looking at the bodies around them.
"M'Lord. Please. Mercy. MERCY." Anden ignored her pleas as Jon walked up to him; his head had slumped down.
"You have the knife with you?" Jon quickly pulled out the knife, the deer's blood still fresh.
"Good. Finish what you started." Anden ordered and stepped away. The wilding woman had no weapon with her, and her leg was destroyed. She let out a cry of pain, looking at Jon, whose face had turned white like the snow around them.
"I-I-I--" Jon stammered, the knife shaking in his hand. He tried to grip it hard, but he found it difficult as the woman kept begging for her life.
"She would have not shown you mercy, boy. Remember that." He heard his great-grandfather say from behind, and Jon knew that. He wanted to slice her neck; the cries were too much to bear. When he remembered the words his father had once told him.
'Before killing someone. You owe it to them to look into their eyes. If you can't do that much. Then perhaps that person does not deserve to die.' His father's words rang in his ears, and Jon could not look into her eyes; he just couldn't as she begged for her life.
'Sometimes, it's difficult to show mercy, Jon. But many people mistake mercy as a weakness; it's not a weakness, it's a gift, and one should always share their gift and not hide it. Remember, violence is a disease; you can't cure a disease by spreading it to more people.' Lady Bella's words rang in his ears.
Jon drew in a sharp breath before turning around to face his great-grandfather. "We won't kill her." Jon decided determinedly.
The man looked at him closely before turning to face the woman who had stopped begging for her life. "You will come with us and serve my home. You will be fed and given proper clothes, but if I hear that you tried to harm anyone, I will give you the bloody eagle." The man promised, and the woman nodded right away. The man then turned to face Jon.
"She's your responsibility now. I hope you understand that." Jon nodded in understanding. He spared her a look and wondered if he had done the right thing to spare her.
"What's your name?"
"Innagra."
Breakstone Hill
"Everyone, hear me!" Anden shouted, his booming voice echoing throughout the entire hall. Everyone fell silent as he stood up, the chair dragging a little behind him as he did, letting out an annoying sound. Anden placed his hand on Jon's shoulder before addressing everyone else.
"Today, my grand grandson captured his first deer. Today, Jon Snow has proved himself worthy." The hall roared with the sound of clapping; Jon flushed red and wanted to sink below the table, especially when a few beautiful girls teased him by winking at him.
"I'm so proud of you, Jon. You have made me proud," his grandmother said with pride, kissing his cheeks. Jon turned even more red. Right now, he seemed more like a big tomato. Jon felt his heart swell in joy like never before as everyone cheered for him.
"Jon Snow."
"Jon Snow, the Wild Hunter."
"Jon Snow, the Wild Boy."
"Jon Snow, The Hungry Wolf."
They all quickly found him new titles to give him, and Jon felt sweetness; he didn't know how else to describe it, but it tasted sweeter than everything else. He wanted this feeling to last for as long as possible. The way they all cheered for him.
"You have done well, Jon. I'm so proud of you," Lady Bella greeted him with a smile, kissing both of his cheeks like his grandmother. Jon tried to hide his face away. His face had never felt hotter, and the sound of her giggles only made him want to hide his face even more.
"Enjoy this, Jon. You have earned this," she said softly before striding away. Jon watched as she sat with Derek, whispering words to one another. He saw the way she giggled at something Derek said in her ear.
When the food was served, Jon was the first to be served, followed by Lord Anden. The deer meat had never tasted sweeter, and Jon enjoyed every bite. The soldiers and the squires kept him busy with questions, wanting to know every detail about the hunt.
Jon tried to answer as many questions as possible until he felt overwhelmed; thankfully, his grandmother quickly came to his aid as she cleared her throat. "My grandson is tired, my good sers. I would appreciate it if you let him rest." They all looked away sheepishly before giving her a half-hearted apology, but Jon wasn't bothered by that; it felt good to be the center of the attention for a change, for people to want to know more about him, for them to ask questions, and call him good names.
At that moment, Jon wondered if this was how Robb felt every day, to have so many people look up to him like he was their god. If this was the feeling, then Jon wanted more of it. He felt like he was the King of the World, and he wanted more of this Feeling.
One Month Later
Jon swung his sword and drew it back before swinging it again. Derek deflected all his attacks, but Jon could see he was getting closer to landing a real strike on him—a strike he wasn't able to dodge.
The two trained and trained, despite the cold; Jon felt the cold sweat on his forehead, breathing heavily. He drew back his sword and swung forward, but Derek quickly blocked it with his shield before swinging at Jon's head. But the boy ducked before throwing his shield at the man, catching him off guard. Jon quickly used that small distraction to land a blow on his chest, causing him to stagger, but before he could swing again, Derek stepped aside before kicking Jon's feet, causing him to stumble and fall on his face. He tasted the snow on his mouth, but the smile never left his face. He rolled his body around to face Derek, who looked down at him bewildered.
"In all my years of training, I have never seen someone throw their shield like you." Jon smiled at the compliment as Derek helped him back to his feet.
"But, that shield is used to protect, not to throw it at people. You might have gotten a brief advantage but were defenseless without it." Derek said thoughtfully, looking at Jon's purple eyes. The kid listened to every word he said.
"I understand, good ser."
"Good kid, now go take a bath. You stink like dog shit," Derek said jokingly and burst out laughing when Jon swatted at his shoulder.
"No wonder you know what they taste like; it's your dinner, after all." Derek rolled his eyes before motioning for Jon to follow him.
Two hours later, Jon was using the needle to stitch with the ladies, but this time, the wilding woman was with them. She had changed into more proper clothes and had yet to cause any trouble. Jon often looked at her, but she was mute; the ladies told him she rarely said anything to anyone.
Jon wondered if he had done the right thing to save her, but according to Lady Bella, he had proven that he was a bigger man than most. She said he had shown mercy to someone who would have never received it from anyone else. He had made the hard decision and had chosen to spare her.
His grandmother hadn't been as supportive, but she had told him that everyone makes decisions in life and that he should live by these decisions, whether good or bad.
After working with the needle for one more hour, Jon saw that the wilding woman was doing a poor job at it when Lady Bella stood up and approached her.
"You have to be more careful with your hands, you--" "I Do Not Need Your Help, your Southern Whore." A loud gasp was heard in the room, and Jon was on his feet before he realized, holding his dagger with his right hand.
"Say that again, and I won't show mercy," Jon warned the wilding woman. A flash of fear appeared in her eyes, and she quickly looked away.
"I'm sorry, m'Lord." She mumbled weakly under her breath. Jon looked at Lady Bella, but she seemed fine, and she quickly gestured for him to leave the wilding woman alone.
"Don't worry, Jon. She is still new here. I'm sure she will get used to this." But Jon didn't agree. True, she hadn't caused any trouble, but Jon couldn't help but feel that she was dangerous to them and should be locked in a cell or killed. But he didn't want to disappoint Lady Bella, and at the same time, he remembered his great-grandfather's words and how people would use his kind heart for their own benefit. Jon had decided to listen to Lady Bella's advice; he hoped he had made the right decision.
"Whatever happens, don't be alone with her, My lady. She's dangerous and has yet to prove she's trustworthy." Jon warned Lady Bella.
"She can still be an ally, Jon." Lady Bella insisted.
"You have too much trust in people, my lady. You try to see the good in people, but you ignore the bad in them. I agree she had caused us no problem. I want you to understand that she's still untrustworthy." Jon warned her, and Lady Bella said nothing to him.
"M'Lord." He turned around to see the wilding woman looking at him with clear anger behind her pale eyes like milk.
"What do you want?" Jon asked with suppressed anger.
"When will I be freed from this castle?"
"Why do you think you will be freed? You attacked me and the lord of this land. I have every right to take your life right now, but I spared you. I do not trust you; if I let you free out there, you might attack someone else. I allowed you to live, and you will serve me." Jon said coldly, with a stern glare. The wilding woman seethed towards him. She looked ready to kill him herself, but she quickly turned around and went back to her work.
"As I said. Do not be alone with her." Jon warned Lady Bella. They had allowed her to walk a part of the castle without shackles since she had caused no trouble and had no weapons, but Jon wondered if he was taking a risk with that. He decided to talk with his great-grandfather tomorrow.
Tomorrow
'I will kill your little lord...' Jon opened his eyes, blinked several times, and remembered he was back in his chamber, sitting up, his back against the bed's back wooden frame, and he took a deep breath.
Jon wondered who was screaming in his dream, but he escaped his thoughts when the door opened. He expected Lady Bella, but instead, it was Derek; Jon was ready to greet him and ask why he was here when he noticed his face had gone pale and his eyes had turned red.
"Jon, stay here for now. The wilding woman has escaped into the woods, and Lord Derek has sent a party to find her." Jon felt his blood boil after hearing that he had spared her, and she had decided to spit on him. Jon would not show mercy this time. He knew Lady Bella would not be happy with him, but he needed to...to...
"Derek, where is Lady Bella? Why isn't she here?" Jon quickly asked, looking up at him. She and his grandmother were the only ones who always woke him up, and Lady Bella had promised him last night that she would wake him up much earlier than usual.
Derek looked away from him. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he closed his mouth before he could.
Jon quickly threw away the blanket and jumped from the bed. "Where is she?" Jon asked again, feeling a growing pit of anxiety in his heart the longer it took for Derek to answer, but the man once again didn't look at him.
"Derek. I'm ordering you. Where is She?" Where is my mother? Jon wanted to scream in anger; his own eyes started burning.
"Jon." He almost didn't hear him talk. As he walked away from the doorway and kneeled to his level, Jon swallowed thickly, and Derek hugged him.
"Where is she?" Jon asked with a tiny voice.
"She's gone, Jon. We found her in Innagra's chamber." Jon stared blankly, and it hurt. He didn't realize that he was screaming until his throat started hurting and burning. His eyes burned as hot tears like melted metal ran down his cheeks, his knees against the rough surface of the floor as he cried.
"NONONO. PLEASE. I WANT TO SEE HER." Jon sobbed as he struggled against Derek's hug, but the man didn't let him go.
"You don't want to see her, Jon. Trust me."
Someone, please wake me up; Lady Bella will wake me up. This is just a nightmare, Jon pleaded as he cried and cried until he could no longer. There, he lay on his side against the floor, with Derek keeping him company.
Jon didn't know how long he lay there. His eyes fixated on the wall. All he could do was think of the woman who had called him 'her son.' The way she smiled at him. Jon didn't know who his real mother was, but whenever he thought of her, his mind would always go back to Lady Bella.
This World is Beautiful, she had told him.
But it wasn't.
This world was Cruel. Jon knew that now, he should have answered the world in kind; he should have done something. His great-grandfather had warned him that people would use his kind heart. And now. Lady Bella was gone because he showed mercy.
"My lord." Jon heard footsteps approaching; he didn't look away but listened.
"Did they find her?" Derek asked with clear loathem and hatred in his voice.
"Yes, my lord. They are bringing her here. Lord Anden wants to make a public execution."
.
.
As if controlled by hatred itself, Jon felt a burst of anger in his heart. Without thinking, he stood up and ran out of the room, his feet moving faster than possible; he could hear Derek calling his name from behind. But Jon did not care to wait. Before long, he reached the castle's main courtyard; a crowd of soldiers and servants had gathered, with Lord Anden, his grandmother, a group of soldiers, and the wilding woman in front of them. The whore was on her knees, her nose was broken, and her lower lip was split open with blood dripping out of her mouth.
"This woman killed one of us. Lady Bella was a good woman. She was one of us, she was a friend. I will--" "Stop."
Everyone turned to see Jon walk past the crowd. His purple eyes, full of warmth, were gone, and all that remained were anger and hatred as he strode towards the wilding woman who looked back at him.
Instead of fear, a mocking chuckle escaped her lips as Jon walked past the soldiers who had formed a line and now stood two feet away from the woman who was on her knees with heavy chains around her body.
"Hahah, well. M'Lord. You caught me. Hhihihi." The woman giggled like a witch, her eyes not looking away from Jon, paler than milk.
"Can you set me free again, hihihi? I will not harm anyone. Like I did that whore...hihihi." Again, the boy didn't move a muscle. A raven caw was heard nearby as the woman let out another laugh.
"You should have seen her face when I stabbed her. Even in her dying breath, she begged me to let her go. 'Please, my son is waiting for me.'...Hihihi—" A gargle gasp escaped her mouth as her eyes widened.
For a brief moment, Jon wanted to ask who did it when he looked down, his hand holding his great grandfather's knife, the blade digging deep into the woman's throat, blood slowly pouring out, her eyes showing fear.
"You will not get the honor of a burial, worms will feast on your flesh, and the wild animals will eat your bones." Jon promised with a grave voice before slashing through the rest of her throat. The blood exploded out of her throat like red diamonds.
Jon watched as the blood stained his clothes and face; he looked down at her eyes, still struggling against the chains. The life in her eyes slowly fading away.
The boy stood there and watched until she stopped moving, the innocence gone from his eyes.
"Threw her body in the forest," Jon commanded before walking away; the crowd moved out of his way. They all started at him with respect and some with fear.
But Jon had only thought in his head. I should not have shown Mercy...
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