Chapter 56 - Leaving Winterfell..
[Chapter Size: 2300 Words.]
Third Person POV.
Winterfell.
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Jon calmly walked out of Winterfell's gates, passing by guards and servants who avoided looking directly at him. He kept his presence under the radar, avoiding unnecessary attention. Despite being a warrior, he had learned some interesting techniques from the thieves' guilds in Riften during his time in Skyrim. One of them had even become his lover, until he decided to end the relationship and she tried to kill him. Yet, he had learned many things about the craft from her.
Leaving Winterfell behind, he noticed the castle's outer area was bustling with activity, even more so than usual. The king was preparing to depart, and the commotion around King Robert and Eddard Stark, who had officially been declared the Hand of the King, filled the air.
But Jon didn't care about that. He continued across the courtyard, where many were training, paying them little attention. His destination was the kennels.
"Excuse me." As he walked toward the kennels, Jon remained composed, ignoring the people around him. However, when someone called out to him, he stopped immediately. For someone to notice his presence, they needed to have sharp perception or already be looking for him.
Turning around, Jon found none other than Benjen Stark, his uncle. Benjen's gaze was analytical, as though trying to recognize him. It was clear that he saw Jon as his nephew but hesitated, as if something about the young man's features didn't align.
"Can I help you, Lord Stark?" Jon asked calmly. He didn't harbor the same resentment toward Benjen as he did toward Eddard Stark. In fact, Benjen was one of the few who treated him kindly. For that reason, Jon had avoided him during the feast. He wasn't sure how to act since part of him wanted to demand the debts House Stark owed him, but not from this uncle.
"You mentioned coming from distant lands, didn't you? May I ask where, if it's not too much trouble?" Benjen asked, still scrutinizing him as though trying to confirm his suspicions.
"Skyrim. It's a land to the north of where I come from, which is why I look like a Northerner, like all of you. We endure cold winters and the hardships that come with them." Jon replied, nearly mentioning the Long Night but holding back. Skyrim had its own monsters, just as this place did.
"I see. Forgive me… You remind me of someone. Someone I think I'll never see again…" Benjen murmured, his tone laced with sadness and guilt.
Jon raised an eyebrow, surprised by his uncle's reaction. 'This guy… I can't let him die,' he thought, muttering under his breath, almost inaudibly, "If only I could help you…"
"Well, I'll be going then. Goodbye, Benjen Stark." Jon said, turning to continue on his way.
"Wait a minute! Do you have somewhere to go? Have you heard of the Night's Watch? It's a place where we serve with honor. If you're interested…" Benjen suggested hesitantly.
"I appreciate the offer," Jon interrupted directly, unwilling to get involved with the Watch. He knew that soon a letter would arrive in Winterfell mentioning a stranger with glowing purple eyes, seen beyond the Wall, beating several rangers with some kind of magic.
'If they even believe the stories,' he thought before replying to his uncle. "But I'm fine with things as they are, so I'll decline your offer."
Jon ignored Benjen's worried look and continued on his way. He only glanced back briefly before encountering two individuals who, without a doubt, were not fond of him. At least one of them wasn't, while the other had been cautious since their first meeting.
"Well, well, if it isn't the great warrior who throws a sword and pierces the heart of a man in armor. Oh, such glory!" said a familiar voice, dripping with sarcasm.
Jon turned the corner and came face to face with Jaime Lannister, while his brother Tyrion stood beside him, clearly frowning at his elder brother's words.
Jon raised an eyebrow, noticing that, between the two, the older one seemed far less sensible than the dwarf.
"If it isn't the Kingslayer, the usurper who likes to sit on the throne after stabbing a king in the back," Jon retorted with equal sarcasm, staring at Jaime with disdain. He knew very well what Jaime had done and, to him, the man had no moral ground to judge him.
This rattled Jaime the moment he heard the words, and he instinctively reached for the hilt of his sword. Jon noticed and continued to provoke him.
"Draw your sword. Come on, show me you're one of the greatest knights of the Seven Kingdoms. Because once you unsheathe that weapon, you'll have only seconds to try to react. Trust me, Jaime, you'll be dead in two seconds," Jon said, calmly stepping closer, his confidence unwavering.
Jaime frowned, hesitating. Tyrion, beside him, appeared clearly worried and somewhat desperate.
"Hey, my lords, let's calm down. I think we don't need this, do we?" Tyrion intervened, his voice tinged with fear. He knew Jon was dangerous, especially since Jon had already displayed hostility toward his family. The last thing Tyrion needed was for his brother to provoke something even worse.
"How can I calm down? He's murdering soldiers of our house!" Jaime snapped, visibly angry.
"Well, your sister is equally persistent. Tell her to stop sending her dogs after me. All this just because the little prince broke his nose? Has he always been this spoiled?" Jon taunted again, a cold smile on his face, openly admitting his guilt. It didn't matter to him anymore.
"Don't speak that way about the crown prince," Jaime retorted, his voice carrying a dangerous tone.
"Oh, Jaime Lannister, I'm terrified," Jon replied, his tone dripping with irony. "I've already told you: if you want to settle this, draw your sword. I challenge you," Jon insisted.
Jaime, impulsively, began to unsheathe his sword. However, before he could fully draw it, Tyrion grabbed his hand, looking at his brother with an expression that practically begged him not to go through with it.
"Don't do it, Jaime," Tyrion whispered, nervous. He knew that once the blade was drawn, something very bad would happen. He could feel it. Meanwhile, Jon remained calm, confident, as though he had already won the confrontation.
Jaime hesitated for a moment, listening to his brother and reconsidering what he'd just heard. Finally, he released the sword. Jon smirked in satisfaction.
"Very well, Jaime," Jon said, turning to leave. It seemed there was nothing more for him there, and Tyrion sighed in relief.
However, before taking his next step, Jon stopped and looked at Jaime again.
"I know very well why you killed the Mad King," Jon said, his voice filled with confidence. "Your honor or an entire city set to burn. I don't blame you for your decision," he concluded, casting a firm gaze at Jaime.
Jaime froze upon hearing that. No one should know about that. Tyrion, beside him, was confused by Jon's incomplete words, but he clearly saw his brother's reaction, paralyzed by the weight of what had just been said.
"However, not everything is admirable, Ser Jaime. You sat on the Iron Throne while you let the children die," Jon said, his voice now filled with anger.
Jaime had no reaction but to listen. "You stood by and did nothing while atrocities were committed against Elia, Aegon, and Rhaenys. You failed miserably as a Kingsguard, allowing your father's men to commit injustices against children and a mother. What kind of knight are you? Especially a royal knight? To me, you shouldn't even be called one. But that doesn't matter now."
Jon spoke each word with firmness, leaving Jaime completely pale. Then, Jon continued, his tone growing even darker.
"Your punishment will come, Ser Jaime Lannister. When I march south and turn all my enemies to ashes as I burn the Seven Kingdoms, I will destroy every enemy who caused the fall of House Targaryen over sixteen years ago. I will punish them all with death, and according to their crimes, they will suffer beforehand—whether they were involved directly or indirectly. So, the next time you cross paths with me, Ser Jaime, you had better be prepared, because I will show no mercy to you."
Jon walked away from Jaime Lannister after delivering those final words, leaving him standing there, frozen like a statue. As Jon continued toward the kennels, Tyrion approached his brother with a concerned look.
"Hey, Jaime, what did he say to you?" Tyrion asked, having never seen his brother so shaken.
"..." Jaime did not answer, still rooted in place. Jon was skilled at concealing his intentions, and speaking softly made it impossible for Tyrion to read his lips. Jaime's gaze was vacant, as though he had seen a ghost. For the first time, Tyrion saw fear glimmering in his brother's eyes—something he never imagined witnessing. Once again, Tyrion wondered, Who is that bard?
Finally, Jon arrived at the kennels without further interruptions. He heard paws striking the hard wooden floor. Opening the door, he saw the small white wolf running toward him.
"Alright, looks like we're leaving now," Jon commented as he scooped up the wolf and held it in his arms. He stepped into the barn to feed the wolf before they departed. Their next stop would be the forest, which was a mid-length journey.
After the wolf ate, Jon headed to the stables. Carrying the wolf in one arm, he selected a horse. He found one that appeared strong enough, saddled it, and secured the reins.
"Hodor?!" someone exclaimed behind him. Jon turned and found Hodor, someone he hadn't seen in a long time and had missed during his stay. Hodor had likely been kept away from the royalty and guests by Lady Stark.
"Hello, Hodor," Jon greeted with a smile before continuing. "Tell Lord Stark I stole the horse, alright?"
Jon spoke nonchalantly, without any pretense. He no longer cared about hiding his actions. In fact, it seemed he relished the act of openly declaring what he was doing.
"Hodor! Hodor! Hodor!" Hodor was clearly distressed by this, pacing nervously and looking at Jon with fear.
"What is it, Hodor?!" a young voice called from behind Hodor. The speaker sounded curious, and Jon immediately recognized it.
She approached Hodor, questioning his agitation until her gaze landed on Jon. She looked surprised, but instead of focusing on the horse, Arya first noticed something else.
"What's that?" she asked as she drew closer, holding Nymeria in her arms. Her eyes darted between Hodor and Jon before settling on the horse Jon was mounting—and, more importantly, the white wolf in his arms.
"Are you taking it away?" Arya asked, surprised, completely ignoring Hodor's restless repetitions of his name.
"Of course. The wolf belongs to me. Didn't you notice?" Jon replied with a smile.
Arya's eyes widened, and she stared at him for a moment before fixing her gaze on the horse.
"You're also stealing a horse?" she asked, shocked.
"I am. Tell your father I took it myself and that I'm not giving it back," Jon said, his tone casual, almost like a bandit. Arya was left speechless at his words, unaware that he had just beaten up the guards in the solar, slapped her mother, and fought her father before arriving here.
"Well, anyway, can you pass along the message and calm Hodor down? He seems pretty upset," Jon continued, watching as Hodor repeated his name over and over. It was clear Hodor didn't like the idea of a thief in Winterfell, but he didn't know what to do about it.
"Hodor, calm down! I'll take care of this," Arya exclaimed, sending Hodor away, though he still appeared nervous. She then turned back to Jon, outraged. "Why are you doing this?"
"Simple. Because I need to," Jon replied with a shrug. "One day, when you need to steal a horse or anything else, you'll understand."
Arya was speechless for a moment before murmuring, "Wait, but the wolf belongs to our family!" she accused.
"The wolf belongs to me, Arya. Haven't you noticed that yet?" Jon repeated. "Look at how he behaves with me. He's already shown that he's with me." As he spoke, the white wolf remained silent, calmly lying in his arms. Arya didn't know how to respond, but suddenly, something came to her mind.
"Wait! You can't take him! He'll be alone, without the pack. My father always says that when winter comes, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives!" she argued, trying to persuade him.
Jon raised an eyebrow at her words. "Maybe you're right," he admitted but then smiled. "But what if this lone wolf is also a dragon?"
With those words, Jon mounted the horse and kicked his legs, spurring the animal out of the barn. Arya stood there, unable to say anything, stunned by his response as Jon disappeared from view.
Jon rode calmly, crossing Winterfell's courtyard. Even Tyrion, Robb, Bran, Theon, Sansa, and other nobles saw him, but Jon ignored them. Mounted, he passed through Winterfell's gates without anyone stopping him, galloping westward to retrieve his dragon and begin his journey.
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