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“Hey bastard!”

Jon winced internally as that snarky, whiny voice he been forced to grow use to came into his hearing.

Bluntly ignoring the Ironborn’s call, said bastard kept his face neutral. Still cleaning his long sword Jon didn’t even acknowledge Theon as he passed behind him, making sure to grind himself briefly against the smaller teens back.

Looking around quickly, Jon was relieved to see no one else had bothered coming after sparing rounds today.

Still he gave his father’s ward a peeved gaze. Which of course had no effect on the Greyjoy. Returning his sour look with an arrogant grin, Theon hosted himself up onto the railing beside the pouting bastard.

“Careful Snow, keep that icy look on your face to long and it’ll stay….Ops! I suppose it to late for that now huh?” Theon snickered out loud at his own jape.

Not amused Snow turned his back, instead focusing on re-organizing all the cluttered armory swords.

Ser Roderick would make them clean the entire armory if he knew how Robb and the others had carelessly disregarded their weapons to go spy on the serving girls bathing in the godswood pools. Jon just rolled his eyes at the invite, he preferred solitude after their spars.

Usually.

A pair of rough callous hands wrapped themselves around his middle, with even rougher lips sucking hungrily at his pale throat, effectively bringing him back to earth. Still Snow did nothing to discourage or encourage his father’s ward.

Theon took this as consent and let his hands wonder down towards the bastard’s breeches.

“I locked the doors, and most of the lads went to the Godswoods to use the pools, they won’t be back for a while. C’mon let me see if I can get rid of that pretty pout for you.” Theon breathed heavily into those soft dark-curls and nipped at the nape, loving the feel of the pale skin shuddering against him.

Still a bastard or not he was the son of a Stark, and Starks are nothing if not unyielding.

“What’s the matter Greyjoy? Ros not wanting the smell of fish and squid in her bed?” Giving a short laugh Jon knew he had tempted fate when he felt a large hand wrap around his neck effectively cutting off any air.

Grabbing his dark-hair harshly Theon twisted the bastard around to face him, practically throwing him on top of a nearby wooden table.

Snow still had a victorious grin on his face, even as the Ironborn towered over him. Theon’s face was flushed an ugly red with anger radiating from him.

His face twisted into an ugly snarl with pale eyes as hard as jagged ice. Still even as one hand gripped the defiant bastard’s throat ever tighter, the other slipped down Jon’s breeches and gripped a flushed and semi-hard handful.

“I'm a Greyjoy. We've been lords of the Iron Islands for hundreds of years, there's not a family in Westros that can look down on us. You should be honored bastard.” Theon hissed massaging said bastard’s soft cock into hardness, before giving it a harsh twist.

Feeling his vision start to go blurry Jon gasped out loud, whether in pain or pleasure he did not know.

“Not…The Lannisters?….Or the Starks huh?” Not knowing where he got the breath to gasp those words, he had almost passed out when the Greyjoy’s hand let go of his neck (bruised with vivid nail marks.) Coughing and nursing his throat Jon slide down to the cold stone floor. No less then a second had passed before he felt two sharp slaps hit both sides of his still bluish face.

Still a gentle touch came next, cradling his jaw and tilted Jon’s head up to look at the now kneeling Ironborn. Theon’s eyes held an amused if infuriated look when they gazed into Snow’s cloudy blurred grays.
“I was wanting to go easy on you, still if you want to do this the hard way.” Theon grabbed the breathless bastard’s head roughly and thrust his tongue harshly into that hot, wet mouth.

“Fu-Fuck! You fucking bitch!” Theon cried out a moment later, blood spilling from his puffy lips where the bastard had bite him….Hard.

Jon spat out the lingering blood in his mouth at the ward’s face and fur coat. Theon looked up at him and back to his ruined furs, and then back to Snow again.

Who had a grin on his face and was licking the lingering blood from his swollen lips. Theon watched fascinated as a dribble of blood escaped those soft lips and fell down that strong jaw line onto the floor.

The Ironborn grinned back at Snow, before tackling him to the ground like a frantic starved beast would a fresh kill.

A brief struggle ensued filling the air with the sounds of tearing fabric, muffled screams, and the sounds of flesh on flesh pounding encased in a mess of limbs and bodies.

 

~Later that night when both came to eat in the feast hall, Lord Eddard Stark saw their cut lips and bruises and admonished them both for brawling again.~ Jon Snow let a pleased whimper escape his lips when he felt the warm spring water met his bruised flesh. Gasping he lowered the rest of his pale body into the pool. Till he was emerged fully into the healing water. Not a moment had passed when he felt the need to breath and re-surfaced, his breath coming out as misty little puffs in the cold air.

He knew not a soul would be here on such a cold night nor at this hour,so Jon felt free to let his mind wander. And even if someone did happen to walk by to pay respects to the heart tree Ghost would alert him.

Speaking if of course if the pup was done napping on his master’s clothes, he mused giving the sleeping wolf a warm smile.

Ghost merely yawned before digging himself deeper into the pile of dirty clothes before settling back to snoring again.

Settling back against the pool wall Snow let his mind wander freely, even if his aches and bruises kept him tied to the earth still. Almost three moons had passed since Greyjoy and him had begin this, ‘thing.’

He still had no idea what they were doing or why.

These latest set of bruises had been begat in a lonely tower after Jon had whipped Theon’s spar sword out of his hands almost effortlessly at spars today. Still the damaging blow was that Lord Stark was watching today and had given Jon a proud look, ignoring his ward for his bastard son.

Almost as good was that one of Greyjoy’s many whores was also watching and soon stories spread to the whorehouse about how the ward couldn’t handle his sword.

Jon snickered out loud at the memory before wincing as more then one bruise protested at the slight movement. Still he was not to peeved about it, he was pretty sure Theon had even more bruises and a limp that would show for the next few days.

As far as the bastard was concerned this was nothing more then their usual fighting, taken to an extreme if somewhat satisfying intensity. Liftening a bruised hand he admired a deep bite mark against his palm.

“A unique kind of pain.” Snow asked out loud, feeling the heat of the springs trying to lull him into slumber.He hoped the Greyjoy would have enough sense to avoid this ‘thing’ they had going while the royal family came to visit. It would do no good to be brawling and fucking under a King’s nose.

He already knew his father’s wife would keep him well out of sight for the duration of the royal stay. Of course he could always visit Ros, even if he didn’t do anything with her it would make the Ironborn furious.

Slipping back under the warm waters he stayed submerged and almost felt like never leaving the soothing tranquility. Still the need to breath forced him back into the world.

Shaking himself awake he got out of the pool and hurried off to his chambers, before the guards changed rotations, and he was caught out this late. Ever since his Lord father had discovered Direwolves roaming his lands all were forbidden from walking late at night.

Whistling to Ghost as he gathered his clothes. He quickly redressed and raced with the wolf hot on his heels back to the fortress.

Never paying attention to the soft breeze that followed him from the godswood.
Leaning forward Jon stood on the tips of his toes to get a better look at the royal party. Trying to see over his Lord father’s imposing figure the young teen searched for the legendry King Robert.

A golden-haired screwy lad in fine clothes was the first to arrive through the gates. Riding atop a white stallion neither Robb nor Jon missed their sister’s blush nor the returned smirk from the Prince.

‘Well she already acts like a princess, so more likely then not within the fortnight Sansa will have her golden Prince charming.’

Not feeling sad in the least bit at the thought of Sansa going south, his gaze passed over the scarred bodyguard to the imposing figure of the King.

Or imposing if based upon the fact he was so fat that two men were need to hoist him off his mount. Grumbling and cursing under his breath King Robert waddled over to his waiting subjects.

Lord and Lady Stark fell to their knees, with the rest of the house following suit. Even with all heads bowed Jon still stole a look up at his King and Father’s best mate. Yet all he saw was a grumbling obese old man with a ruddy face with the stench of alcohol. So pungent was the stench it reached him in the second row.

After a brief awkward moment both King Robert and his father were laughing and wrestling with each other like old tavern buddies.

The King greeted his hosts wife and trueborn children with overdue warmth. His dark beady eyes passed over Theon and lingered for a brief second on Jon’s face. A look of confusion was on the old mans face at seeing him, until Greyjoy head still bowed hit the bastard discreetly with his hand.
Beating his father’s ward thoroughly in his minds eye , Jon Snow still bowed his head again and set his gaze on the ground respectfully. After the King and his father left for the crypts the household began to dispense.

With the royal party settling into their apartments and the servants rushing to prepare tonight’s feast most of his family got up to leave. Jon Snow respectfully rose with Theon after the remaining Stark family got back to their feet.

A quick slender hand caught his jaw before Jon could follow the others into the castle.

Turning his head gently, the bastard of Winterfell came face to face with Cersi Lannister, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Long golden hair bellowing in the harsh breeze, the Queen kept her icy gaze focused fully on his perplexed face. Tilting his head sideways she kept her grip gentle. So he felt no need to struggle against his Queen’s silent commands. Still the sight of Catelyn Stark’s furious glare from where she had stopped caused his body to go rigid.

The Queen turned her gaze onto the remaining Stark family. Emerald eyes moved from Robb’s open mouth to Arya’s confused squint. Eyes searching until she looked at Lady Stark directly who held her gaze for a tense moment before curtsying and leaving in a silent huff. Robb hushed his younger siblings and herded them inside the fortress.

“But why does Jon get to meet the Queen?” Sansa’s high-pitched voice reached back to them.

Jon snorted at that, causing Queen Cersi to look back to him. He dutifully lowered his gaze. And murmured a respectful. “Your Grace.”

“You are a pretty lad. You look……...”

“Your Grace?” After a slight pause he asked tilting his eyes up to met her emeralds.

“No one child, I was just curious.” And with that the soft feel of her pale skin left his face and Queen Cersi left the yard snapping at her children to follow.

Leaving one Jon Snow dumbfounded in her wake.

Shaking his head he decided to leave quickly for the training yard. Fast walking towards the servants entrance. (He didn’t fancy a chance encounter with Lady Stark.) Opening the small discreetly hidden servants entrance he paused. The hair on his neck prickled standing up. Looking up the young bastard saw his father’s ward leaning against a arch giving him a harsh glare.

Checking to make sure the yard was deserted, Jon Snow gave a the Greyjoy a victorious smirk before leaving.
~Robb Stark laughed heartily at one of lording’s sons lewd joke about a serving girl and not knowing the difference between milking a cow or a bull. The entire table burst into laughter as he finished with the motions of milking.

Robb almost choked on his ale before Theon hit his back a few times. Still even after he was breathing again, Stark just raised his mug and drank deeply till the last drop was gone.

His father’s banner men erupted into cheers and banged their fists onto the worn table. A few more serving girls came and refilled their cups.

From somewhere across the hall he heard the King’s booming voice. What his liege was saying the eldest Stark could not make out. Still it mattered not when his Grace picked up a serving girl and ran out the hall with her.

After a few hours his sight was starting to get blurry. Looking around Robb looked for Theon, but could not see his father’s ward anywhere within the hall. Shrugging off hands trying to get him another drink, the teen made his way out of the hall. Even in his drunken state he could see almost everyone had gone to bed already.

A loud chorus of roars echoed behind him.

Well almost everyone. He mused grabbing a pitcher from a passing serving girl. Making his way through the castle corridors Robb tried….Really tried to remember where his rooms where. But for the life of him the now blurry halls all looked like one darken stone mess.

“What are you doing!?! If we get caught--Mppht!”

Recognizing a familiar voice (though not who it belonged to) Robb careless pounded on the door.Silence, before quick shuffling could be heard. Still Robb pounded on the door, by now practically hugging it.

Which is how when his best mate Theon opened said door he found himself with a drunken handful of Stark.

“R-Robb?! What are you doing here?”

Robb quirked his eyebrows up at the Greyjoy before trying to figure out where he was.

“I…I was at the feast…Sorry….(hiccup!)…Thought it was my rooms…” He finished of lamely taking another swing of wine.

Theon merely sighed in response, pushing back his short brown strands thoughtfully. Before stealing Robb’s wine and gulping it down himself.“Fine..Fine I’ll get you back to your rooms, though I don’t know why I have to play wet-nurse.” Picking his foster brother up he dragged the clumsy Stark away from his rooms.

“Wa-Wait! Wait!…Wait!” Stopping the Greyjoy with his heels dug into the floor, Robb motioned towards his chambers. “What!?!” Theon asked eyebrows raised in frustration. Robb merely grinned back.

“I don’t want to take you from your lady friend.” The Ironborn gave him an amused look at that.

“Oh don’t worry she can wait, dark-haired lusty minx she is….Would you like to hear about this thing she does with her mouth?”

Carefully leading the drunken teen away with tales of his exploits with a dark-haired wench.
It was a long minute after they had gone out of sight that Jon Snow emerged from the Greyjoy’s chambers. Before quickly disappearing down the opposite corridor.
He had been so close! So damnably close!

Jon screamed in his mind as he retched…..Yet again, into the bucket one of the maids had put in his room. Measter Luwin had seen him multiple times over the past fortnight.

After what happened with Lady Stark, Jon had been determined never to see this place again.

He would miss all his brothers and sisters, even Sansa he would miss slipping her, her favorite hotcakes and putting mice under her pillows.
Still he been determined to follow Uncle Benjem to the Wall and take the black.

Yet the gods seemed to love toying with him, not even half-way to the Wall he had gotten violently ill. Slowing the group down the imp had finally convinced him to go back to Winterfell’s healers and rest there, rather then to join the Night’s Watch in his current ill state.

He protested until Uncle Ben had leveled a stern if not worried glare at him. He ordered his nephew back to Winterfell and to more experienced healers then the Watch could provide.

Seven hells! Tryoin Lannister had even given two of his own guards away to escort the sick defiant youth back to his father’s castle.

So with no real choice Jon Snow returned to Winterfell not a man of the Night’s Watch.

But as a sickly teenage boy who could barley keep himself on the saddle.Even that had been a battle as twice Jon had fallen unconscious from his mount, the southern knights had wanted him to ride with them on one of their horses.

A single icy glare disillusioned the southerners from that idea without the high-born bastard having to utter one single word.

Still Robb was there to greet him enthusiastically in the training yard.

If somewhat surprised at seeing his half-brother again so soon. Jon Snow couldn’t recall the last time his brother had looked like the happy boy from their childhood.

At least until he saw his brother’s face pale when he got closer and got a good look at Jon. Then Snow knew he looked truly on death’s door, from the way Robb ran to him, catching him when he almost collapsed off his chestnut mare.

His brother became Lord of Winterfell again once more and ordered for the (previously) royal rooms to be made ready and for Luwin.

Jon was proud of his brother then, until Robb half-carried, half-dragged the struggling bastard into his new rooms. Bellowing for food and dry clothes the entire way.

When Luwin finally arrived and could not find out the reason for his brother’s illness Robb looked ready to kill the Measter, or dissolve into tears.

Jon couldn’t recall for the life of him, by then the fever was taking a hold. When he later found out Measter Luwin had that same day told his brother that Bran was unlikely to reawaken….

He could not imagine the terror that Robb, always tough and steady Robb must have felt at potentially losing two brothers each less then a day apart.

The next few days passed in a blur with an occasional cleaning and feeding being the only interruption to his fevered dreams. Sometimes crazed with heat, he could feel the brash of gentle hands through his damp hair.

Once he dreamt of Robb and Greywind both staring down at him, their bodies swirling around each other until the wolf was a grey blurry mass, and Robb’s body wore Greywind’s head.

The wolf leaned down yet spoke with his brothers soothing voice, causing the fevered teen to laugh hysterically. Wolf-Robb’s voice picked up and he howled for help. Afterwards Jon felt a hand grip his jaw and thrust something down his throat,….it burned. Yet he slept dreamlessly afterwards.
A week had passed since then, leaving him with a rhythm at least. Measter Luwin was puzzled to say the least. Jon was deathly ill in the morning with a fever and repented vomiting, but as soon as the sun rose past the tenth hour he was perfectly fine.

The bastard almost wanted to grab his horse and make a quick dash for the Wall in between the good hours.

But one look at Luwin’s old, tired face convinced him to stay for a little while at least.

He could tell the old Measter would break if he lost a patient after Bran’s fall. Being unable to help Bran out of his sleep nor figure out Jon’s illness had the Measter at his wits end. He could not add disappearing on him to those burdens.

And besides he did occasionally get to see Robb again, even if only at meals. Robb was acting Lord of Winterfell now, he did not have time to see Bran much less Jon.

Still even if on the floor with the bucket between his legs, and pretty sure he had just thrown up his liver. Jon Snow was glad to be home. Leaving the bucket for the maids Jon left his rooms for a quick dip in the godswood before lunch.

Making his way down he paused long enough by the armory to see Theon tumble a red-headed whore into a nearby shed. Jon merely rolled his eyes and continued out the gates and down the forested path.

He knew this path by heart so letting his feet take over for him, Jon let his troubled mind wander. In truth he was glad Theon was ignoring him since he got back. The illness seemed like to act like the plague to the Greyjoy causing him to avoid Jon at all costs.

In the horrid mood Jon had been in since missing his chance at freedom, he would have gutted Theon at even the littlest snarky comment about the bastard having to be sent back with an escort. Still it seemed everyone had been avoiding him lately, Jon knew it was not just about dishonoring the Starks by not joining the Nights Watch.

Robb was struggling trying to be Father in his absence, and with two ill brothers it must be burdening. Still his older brother always made room next to him at meals when Jon did appear. And would even crack a tired smile at one of Jon’s half-hearted jokes.

Thankfully Lady Stark was not at any of those meals, instead insisting on eating in Bran’s room. She had not left her son’s side in close to a fortnight.

Jon Snow was glad, he even avoided that part of the castle at all costs. And if by some miracle he had been welcomed, there was nothing Jon could do and above all else the bastard hated being helpless. Bran was receiving the best care, and he couldn’t bring himself to disturb mother or son.

Instead he had been helping Robb with minor issues. Such as balancing the books, helping the old Measter gather herbs, and looking after Rickon.
Who surprisingly had been sticking to him like mud, ever since he awaken from his fever. Rickon didn’t give his elder brother as much a hard time as he had with Luwin and their Septa.

Instead of running wild Rickon followed him everywhere, Jon supposed he sensed his older brother was sick and not up to chasing him. He had tried fathering the boy, teaching him some swordplay with sticks and telling him stories.

Still his youngest brother was a bit wild which he hoped would be calmed soon. At least when he bribed/ordered him, Rickon would pick out a book. And seated on Jon’s lap would practice reading some small letters.

‘Well at least something good has came from this curse.’ He mused glad his wild sibling was behaving at least from him.
Snagging his foot on a gnarled root he was startled to see the not the familiar pebbled path but instead dense shadowed underbrush.

The panicked teen looked around relieved at seeing he was still in the woods, yet all the trees were a blackened and dead, in fact not one leaf or green-life stood out. When Jon listened quietly for a few minutes, neither a faint echo of a raven or the rustle of a rabbit reached his ears.

Everything was deathly silent, even the dry dirt he kicked made no noise. Snow knew instinctively he should not be here. This place was in no godswood.

“No…This is not in no godswood to be sure.”

Startled the pale youth turned around face to face with a large crow staring right at him on a low branch not even a foot away from where Jon stood.

Staring back at the human with all three-eyes.

Not making a sound he grabbed the hilt of his dagger and was preparing to throw it at the unblinking beast, until the bird started talking.

“I have been watching you Jon Snow.”

Terrified or not, no one could ever accuse a son of Eddard Stark of being anything but brave. “How do you know my name?” He asked quietly, while putting his dagger back, though with a posed hand still lightly on the hilt.

“As I said I had have been watching you.” Flying closer the large crow landed on a nearby boulder. Giving the young human a sad and contemplating look, he fixed his gaze on his waist.

Seeing the beast meant him no harm, Snow took this as a sign to remove his hand from the dagger. Still even after he raised his palm up in peace the deformed crow simply kept staring at his middle.

Jon fidgeted for a moment under the harsh gaze, before the crow at last broke the silence.

“I have seen a thousand different futures Jon Snow, and in all you have left for the North. Yet here you are, and this changes everything. It seems my masters have given you a gift.”

“A-a gift? Who are your masters? I don’t believe I have received any gift from them.” Jon asked a little unnerved at the Crow’s piercing gaze. Unthinking he wrapped his arms around himself feeling everything suddenly get colder despite his heavy cloak.

“You know them, or they know you. It matters not, not now. Still for this gift they demand equal in return. If you stay, Bran will die.” Crowing the bird gave the young human the saddest gaze he had ever seen.

Confusion…..Disbelief……Anger… He felt each of these emotions spilling over inside him. Rage filled his eyes and his world became crimson for a single instant.

“Who will kill him!?! Whoever it is tell me and I’ll hunt them down!!!” Even in the face of the large humans anger the crow merely cocked his head to the side calmly.

“No one will kill him, he will sacrifice himself to the ice and fire.” Something wanted to doubt the deformed monster. Jon wanted to call the beast a liar…Yet he knew…He knew the crow was not lying, and the thought almost pushed him over the edge.

“No! No! He can’t! I-I’ll leave, and go to the Wall….Will Bran live then?” Jon hastily replied hoping against hope.

“Yes, it is not to late Snow, if you leave now Bran will survive….”

Letting out a relieved breathe, Jon almost wanted to ran and grab a horse that moment. Robb would be angry, but it would for the best. The Wall has always been his path.

Looking up he noticed the crow waiting.

“And Robb will die.” At those words his mind came crushing down.

“No! Please! I can’t choose, I can not choose!” He pleaded with the bird, ready to beg if need be. Anything, anything to stop this nightmare from happening.

“You love your brothers….Touching, I hated mine. Still you might be able to save both.” From those words Jon could tell the crow didn’t expect him to succeed.
It did not matter. Whatever was needed, whatever he needed to do Jon Snow would do it.

The crow could ask for his life, and he would gladly give it in exchange for Bran's or Robb's or seven hells even Sansa's. He would let none of them die.

“What? Whatever it is I’ll do it!”

“Bran’s magic is strong, he can create whole worlds at will. You must show him the way, you and Ghost. You two are the only ones left who can show him the way. The other Starks cannot help him now” Jon leaned forward at those words puzzled.

“How? How do I show him?” Still in his gut something seemed horribly wrong, around them the world darken leaving only the two of them alone in the shadows.

“Open your Eye!!!” Pulling back the three-eyed crow brought his beak down harshly to the middle of his forehead. A burst of light seared him before turning the entire world went into darkness….
“Arrghh!”

Something twisted around his neck tightening the grip. Struggling to breath and fightening with all his might a sudden drop stopped his struggles.

Finally opening his eyes Jon Snow could faintly make out his bed in the pale moonlight. Looking down he saw that he was twisted and trapped in his bed-linens. Slipping his head free and twisted ankle, he then took a quite moment to catch his breath.

Finally feeling the terror leave him, Jon noticed something rough and wet licking his face.

“Ghost! Down!!! I’m fine! I’m fine, just a bad dream.” Ghost ignored his master and instead opted too tackle the sweat soaked human licking every inch of his face mercilessly.

Memories of the dream ebbed away as he laughed at Ghost’s antics before settling down on the chamber floor, with his wolf pup nestling at his side. Jon inhaled heavily into Ghost’s soft snow-white coat. Ghost and the other wolf pups were growing rapidly. Soon they would outweigh their masters, yet for now the albino was a soft, loving ball of hyper-activity.

Decidedly awake now Jon pushed the panting dire wolf gently off his chest. Standing up he stretched for a moment to get all the kinks out of his aching neck. Striding over he knelt before the small fireplace, grabing a small candle from on top the wooden mantle piece. He thrust it into the dying embers, it took hardly any time for it to take light.

Opening his doors gently Jon carefully stick his head out into the dark corridor, seeing that the cost was clear. Hushing Ghost’s silent whimpers, both boy and wolf made their way quietly through the deserted castle.

Jon knew by heart every hidden archway and unused corridors. And he made good use of them. In all honesty if anyone where to see him clad in a single long white linen with the silent snow-furred wolf at his heels, they would have been convinced both were the ghosts of a Starks long past.

Finally after climbing the stairs of a twisting tower, the silent beast and master reached their location. A single curved door stood in front of the pair. Noticing the lit torch the bastard pressed an ear to the glided doorknob. After a moment, Snow gave a satisfied grin to Ghost.

The wolf pup merely cocked his head at Jon.

Ignoring that look, he merely blew out the candle before opening the library door.

As he suspected Measter Luwin was absent from the archives tonight. Still he made sure to check behind every case or stack, satisfied there was not a soul there to disturb him. Jon busied himself with cleaning off a nearby table before beginning his search.

“A History of the Seven Kingdoms.” …..No….”Life beyond the Wall.”…No…”All the gods both old and anew?”…..Hmmm.”

Jon flipped through the last one, discarding the other on the now clean table. Moving closer to a nearby lit torch he flipped through the pages carefully.
Searching for anything, anything, at all of a crow, much less a three-eyed one.

Nothing came to fruition however when he came to the very last page.

Though frustrated beyond belief he was careful when putting the dusty old tomes back in their rightful spots.

Luwin would have his head if even the slightest parchment was out of place. “Or your tail!”

He told Ghost amused at the pup’s attempt to help him. Which involved carrying a discarded piece of scroll over to his master and lying it at Snow’s feet.

Picking it up, Jon looked out the window noticing that the moon had fully risen, which gave him a few hours at least before any one would awaken.

He made to put the yellowed scroll back on a shelf. Yet when he did the old parchment unfrilled a bit. At the bottom a single hastily written sentence stood out.

‘A crow’s gift.’

Jon stopped rigid, before bending down to lay out the fragile scroll next to a lit candle on the table.

…..whzzz..crack!

Startled he found not an inch above where his head had been a second ago was an embedded dagger stuck in one of the dusty old tomes.
“You’re not suppose to be here.”

Spinning around he found a thin hooded man leaning against one of the book shelves. Looking up from his grey hood the cross-eyed man gave him a confounded look.

“No one’s suppose to be here….” Still perplexed the man threw a lantern at the teen. It spattered across the floor leaking lamp oil. Jon moved back into the bookshelf behind him trying to get away from the rushing oil.

Feeling the knife behind him, the panicked youth ripped it out of slashed tome.

Only to come face to face with the imagine of the assassin throwing a torch at the broken lantern.

“NOO!!!!!” Screaming Jon saw the world go into flames. All the books acted like kindle for the ravenous fire. Creating a wall to high for him to cross, he could still make out through the haze of blacken smoke the crouched back of the assassin.

Gasping for air, Snow with all his might threw the dagger at the retreating figure. A satisfying scream was heard before he fell into a world of smoke and flames…..

The world was ablaze with death, and his alpha was in the middle of it…..He barked at the still figure. But an ocean of red flames surrounded him. Suddenly a presence overtook his frightened mind.

“……GET….ROBB..”

Whining one last time he leaped over the sobbing human with the knife still in his back, and head butted his way through the thick doors.

Ignoring the splinters in his face, he followed a familiar kin scent through the castle before meeting his brother and his human outside a tall stone-tree.

His elder brother sensed him before Ghost came into view and followed him without delay. Both grabbed the sleeves of the eldest pup human and dragged him towards the burning tower.

Screaming metal-humans chased them, yet they did not stop till both had dragged the struggling pup to the torn door.

“Ge---Get off! LET G-…..”

The oldest pup human quit struggling when he saw his litter-mate’s broken form in the middle of the blaze.

“JON!?!…NOOO!”

Throwing the beasts off him Robb Stark sprinted into the inferno, pushing past burning shelves and fallen beams.

Finally reaching his brother, Robb Stark with what some would claim later was inhuman strength lifted a fallen wooden beam off Jon. Still clearly the smoke was getting to him from the way he swayed.

With the last of his strength Stark picked up Snow, and throwing the bastard over his should like a sack of potatoes came barreling out of the hell storm.

Lungs filled with soot Robb tumbled into the small corridor with the wolves hot on his heels.

Before he too fell to his knees and let go…..

“I want his fucking head!”

Slowly the world was coming back, he could feel rather then see a faint light ahead. The words echoed in this dark place, however he had no idea what they meant. He had no idea what this place was.

He just knew the darkness was retreating, and the voices were getting closer.

“Jon?….Jon?….Can you hear me?….Open your eyes if you can……..Please, open them!”

‘That voice, I know it.’

Encouraged at this small shred of memory, he struggled to open his eyes. Yet it felt like stones had been tied to his lids. Still the light was getting brighter and with a burst of energy he broke through.

Only to come face to face with a world filled with hellish agony.

“Luwin! Get the potion NOW!”….his…his brother? Robb, screamed at the shuffling blackened old man. It mattered naught.

Nothing could be heard over Jon’s own screams…

Yet for several minutes Robb held his brother down. Cradling his head and trying to give comfort. Looking at Jon…Strong, silent, never-show weakness his Jon, seeing him crying tears of pure pain with deafening screams…Jon had never cried not once in his entire life……..

It was almost enough to drive him insane.

Careful of the burns, he clasped his half-brother in a comforting, if careful embrace. Rocking the still sobbing teen, Lord of Winterfell or not he vowed to have the Measter's aging head if the bastard didn’t come back soon with that damn potion.

Nary a moment later said Measter ran in face-flushed but triumphantly holding out a large vial of clear green liquid.

Robb snarled at him before snatching it from his hands. Uncorking the screw with his teeth he pried open Jon’s mouth long enough to stick the neck of it down his throat.

After a moment of chugging and force feeding his brother’s eyes ran back into his head and he fell back unconscious onto his fur pillows. Relieved he bent down and touched foreheads with the now sleeping youth. Giving a sigh of relief they both breathed in each others breath for a moment.

Before Robb pulled away and his pale eyes took on a hard glint.

“Where is he?”

Measter Luwin knew who he spoke of, yet the cold calm in which his lord’s son asked terrified him. “In the dungeons not awake yet….Please! Wait!” (Robb Stark had been striding towards the door hand on sword hilt.)

“We need to question him! He’s no good to us died, and your Lord father does not condone the execution of prisoners without his judgment.” Robb merely looked at the Measters hands. Which Luwin promptly dropped from the furious lads arm. “If that fucker thinks he can come into my castle and try to kill my brot-”

“Lord Stark this is not your castle yet, and while Jon may be your brother he is also your Lord father’s son. And therefore any crimes committed against him must be judged by your father.”

Casting a frustrated look at his sleeping brothers bandaged form Robb hit the nearby wall with his fist. Thankfully the undamaged one. Leaving a dent he turned back to the waiting bald Measter.

Giving the old man a reassuring nod, Luwin was relieved to see the commander in Robb come back.

“Measter attend to Jon, Greywind and Ghost are to stay.”(Both wolves ears perked up from their places on the floor near the fire.)“THEON!” That last order brought in one Theon Greyjoy from his place outside guarding the door. “Yes?” Theon averted his eyes from Snow’s wounded figure, it would do no damned good to be weak now. Still the smell of burnt flesh brought back memories he’d rather avoid.

“Go to my mother and bring her here, and tell the guards to drag the prisoner from the dungeons. Make sure to put Rickon in Bran’s room and to double the guard. I trust the prisoner has been stripped and searched?”

Theon nodded gravely, the would-be-assassin had a few broken ribs from when Theon had ‘searched’ him.

Robb let his face relax slightly. “Good, still bring him here naked and in heaviest chains the guards can find. We don’t know how he got in, but I’ll not let him find a way out.”
Giving a curt nod he dismissed the Greyjoy who promptly left, even if his eyes did linger on Snow’s still form for a second when he closed the thick oak doors.

Measter Luwin made sure to secure all several locks on the impenetrable door. When he finished both Greywind and Ghost trotted over and settled themselves in front of the door.

Huffing at the now resting Direwolves Luwin turned back to the scene of Robb Stark trying to cool off Jon’s forehead with a wet cloth. The old Measter found it enduring. At least until he noticed something off.

“No..No..No, ah my lord please take care.” Gently settling down on the bed next to his lord’s son he took the rag away from the reluctant teen.

“Robb have I never taught you this? You are suppose to twist the linen to get the excess water out, otherwise you’ll probably drown the poor boy.

He gave the old man a meaningful look at that, yet still copied the motions of putting the rag into bowl and twisting the excess water out.

With a damp rag he started cleaning the soot and ash from Jon’s face, always careful around the cuts and gashes.

Before even half the soot-covered face was cleaned the bowl of water was noting more then a charred ugly black color.

Setting the now filthy glass bowl and rag aside. Robb silently moved up from his spot by the sleeping teen’s side. Measter Luwin took his place and gently checked the bindings. Which already had bright red blots streaking across Jon’s hands and torso.

Robb allowed himself a breather as he looked on as the Measter did his work. Sighing he ran a hand through his hair trying to keep himself awake. Pulling his hand back the eldest Stark son was startled to see it all black with soot and ash.

Grabbing a water pitcher besides the bed table Robb lifted the gilded glass up to the candle light.

If the situation had not been so serious under normal circumstances he would have roared furiously at his own reflection. Instead of the usually shiny autumn ringlets his hair was damp and blacken with soot.

‘So this is what the Stark look would be like if I’d had it.’ Looking around he almost cracked a joke at his brother. Until the sight of Jon’s bedridden form and the attending Measter brought him back to reality.

Looking up at him Luwin seemed puzzled. “I believe there is something clasped inside your brothers hand.” Following his gaze Robb saw a speck of white sticking out from between Jon’s burnt fingers.

Curious he came closer as Luwin tried to dislodge the stubborn fingers apart. It had little success and only caused the scabs to open and bleed again. Defeated the Measter looked up at his lord’s son and shook his head miserably.

Robb only slightly disappointed nodded. They could wait, he decided whilst turning back to the glass he eyed his reflection carefully.

Leaning closer towards the glass Robb traced his fingers over the many cuts and bruises he sported. And…oh gods damn this was only his face! When his lady moth-

Just that second a rush of hurried footsteps echoed outside in the corridor. Cursing, Robb got the still filthy rag and tried to make himself presentable, if not at least look somewhat alive.

Instead he smeared charcoal over his heat-blushed face. Hearing the door swing open, Robb was grateful that it at least covered the blood well enough. Before turning to face his mother.

Lady Catelyn Stark stormed in nothing but her midnight blue robes. Her pale face paled more so with freckles standing out like dots. When she saw the state her firstborn son was in. Still regal as a queen she leaned against the door beam turning to each one of them critically, before her watery eyes fell harshly upon Jon.

“What is he doing here!? He should be at the Wal-.”

“Mother….” Order whispered quietly, Robb head still throbbing counted in his mind for a minute. This was his lady mother he could not shake her even more senseless. No matter how tempting it was.

Sighing he decided to jump right into it. “Mother, listen…For once just please fucking listen.” At this Catelyn Stark stood rigid mouth closed in a tight thin line. But not protesting.
"Theon did you bring the prisoner?” From behind Lady Stark, the Ironborn nodded and came out behind the doorway.

Pulling a chain both he and Ser Rodrick brought in the struggling prisoner. Lady Stark moved away from the naked filth and settled down on the edge of the large bed with an audible creak.

The two men dragged the chained and bound wench in front of the blazing fireplace. Robb went and closed the thick wooden door. Making sure this would stay private he locked every single lock before turning back to stalk towards his naked trembling prey.

Barely conscious or not the man almost wept in terror when Robb picked up the red-hot poker and came towards him.

It was when Grey Wind stalked up behind the assassin and snarled in his earlobe, that the shaking man relieved over himself and the stone floor.

Snorting, Robb was glad to see the filthy wench was feeling some of the terror he’d caused him and his. Lightly pressing the still hot poker into his back wound the lord felt a grim satisfaction at the man’s pathetic howl. He was pleased to see the blood falling heavily from the dagger wound.

Luwin made to stop him till his lord’s son hushed him with a silent glare.

Oh he would not die on them anything soon. Robb thought. But he was going to wish he’d had perished in the flames after receiving Stark hospitality and justice.

Kneeling he put himself face to face with the shaking man, who promptly stopped shaking when Robb grasped his face with a leather-gloved hand and kept it rigid.

“You….Are going to answer truthfully every question I ask….And.” He put and emphasis on the. ‘And’ by waving the poker an inch from the man’s thin face.

“Robb, what is this?…..” He ignored his mothers harsh whisper and continued.

“And if I even suspect you are lying, this….(He let the poker trail down lightly across his prisoners hairless chest and below his belly, till he stopped just above his manhood.) Will be the first ‘limb’ to go. Understood?”

Gulping the peasant nodded furiously never breaking eye-contact. With a grim look the Lord returned to his feet, Grey Wind trotted up to his side while keeping a hungry eye on their prisoner.

“Mother, this man has trespassed into the castle this night and he was the one who set the library on fire, Jon was there.” That last word was hissed out with a dangerous tone. The wolf at his feet growled harshly ready to pounce.

Catelyn Stark’s hand flew to her mouth staring in disbelief at their would be murder. Before looking at Theon and Ser Roderick and their grim nods.

Face paled she averted her eyes from the wounded bastard and kept her gaze on the stone tiles. She brought herself to stare levelly back at the prisoner. Mouth set firmly she avoided looking at her lord son.

And the ruthlessness and violence in his normally warm eyes.

“So tell us, why did you come and try to kill my brother?” Robb demanded grabbing the wenches neck and giving it a warning squeeze.

“Please! M’lord…The prince! I have royal orders.”

Everyone in the room was stunned at this newest revelation. His lady mother gasped horrified at the implicationsSer Roderick was the first to recover himself, shuffling for a moment through his thick bear coat he finally produced a small wrapped package. Opening it carefully he produced a blood splattered bejeweled dagger.

“My lord this, (he held the knife up to firelight) was on him when we stripped searched him.“

Coming out of his stunned stupor. Robb Stark took the knife gently twirling with it experimentally, he was awed by the craftsmanship of the blade.

And confused.

“Where did you get such a fine piece such as this?” He asked out loud still testing said dagger.

A glimmer of hope entered the frail prisoners face. “Prince Joffery begging your pardons my lords, he told me to sell it or keep it as a reward for me services.”

Robb quite playing at that, looking down from the dagger he leaned in closely towards the chained man’s right ear.

“Services that included killing my brother?” The question was asked so softly and gently like a caress from a mother.

With the blade pressing gently against manhood.

“No! No, please it was an accident! I-I was only doing what me was told! He wasn’t suppose to be there, I was suppose to get the other brother.” Breaking into a furious sweat he didn’t dare breath as the lording looked at him eye-to-eye.

“So the fire? It was a distraction?” A nod. “So if the target was not Jon who were you suppose to kill?”

“The little one, the sleeping cripple.”

Slap!

Catelyn Stark slapped the impudent wench across his face. Pulling back she noticed one of her rings bloody.

Good. She mused rubbing her stinging hand, she would make sure he suffered much more then this. But it was a good start.

Robb stared at his mother in awe as she composed herself and sat neatly and carefully down on the bed. Closer to a still sleeping Jon Snow, he noticed.

Turning back to the filth whimpering on the floor he grabbed some short hairs and brought him up to his knees.

“And pray tell, why would the Prince want to murder a boy who had done him no ill. If anything he should be after my blood for how I bloody beat that little shit’s sword during our spar.”

The man shook his bleeding head vigorously. “Not you, the little lord the sleeping boy he wanted died, wouldn’t tell me. Said if I did a good enough job he’d give me a barrel full of gold….Please!” He pleaded to everyone in the room desperate now.

“Please I was just following orders M’lord, royal orders.” He sobbed grabbed Robb’s legs crying snot on his trousers.

Lord Robb throw the begging wrench away from him. Dusting himself off he gave a silent nod to Ser Rodrick.

~Who promptly grabbed the prisoner by the collar and dragged him out begging into the halls.

Theon made to follow until a hand stopped him. Curious he turned around to found himself staring into Robb’s tired eyes.

“Theon, I need you to guard this room and not to let anyone else besides Luwin and the myself in or out…Yes?”

About to protest until he heard the plea in the last word. The ward closed his mouth. Getting a sharp nod of his narrow face and a weak thin smile as an answer, Robb slightly relaxed his shoulders.

“Mother, we shall discuss this….Turn of events in your rooms if you wouldn’t mind. With both Ser Rodrick and Measter Luwin after he is finished tending to Jon.”

Lady Stark gently stood up from the bed at that with nary a word of protest. Trialing Robb she left never even spared a glance at the Greyjoy ward.
Yet….At the doorway she did pause to look at her husband’s bastard with a strange searching look. Before crossing the threshold to follow her lord son. Grey Wind slipped through just before it closed with an audible ‘click.’

Theon fell down heavily on his back. Massaging his forehead he was half-tempted to fall asleep then and there upon the bed furs.

“Ah….Hmm!”

The Measter’s instant fake little cough brought Theon Greyjoy back to the world. Unfortunately.

“What old man?” He asked bone-weary to the core.

“Theon, I need you to go and grab two bowls filled with cool water and some clean linens.” Groaning the Ironborn did as he was told and made his way to the adjacent wash room.

Grabbing a few wash cloths and some clean buckets from the linen rack he pried the outside window and leaning over scooped up a large pile of snow from the roof.

Still he was muttering curses and making vague threats underneath his breath the whole time. He was heir to the Iron Islands! Not some maid! Yet for the silent promise he'd given to Robb he’d comply with the old Measter’s orders.

Stooping down to avoid the low ceiling beam he came out into the main room and settled everything neatly onto the nightstand besides the bed. Heating the snow-filled buckets over the fire melted it soon enough..

Handing the water over the shuffling Measter, Theon got out of the way and watched the old man do his work silently.

Leaning against the wall with one leg resting against the other he closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the heat from the fireplace.

Until a wet nose nuzzled into his hand. Peeking one eye down Theon saw the bastard’s runt silently nuzzling his hand licking it eagerly.

“Gods, I should have thrown you into that stream when we found you lot.” Still he gave the half-grown pup a grin and reached down to stroke the soft fur. Ghost curled up on his back panting as Theon bent to rub his belly vigorously.

Straightening back up after the pup had gone soundly to sleep, he noticed Luwin gathering dirty bandages and used salves. Casting Greyjoy a bleak look, the old man sighed rubbing his balding head.

“Theon, all his bandages are clean and there is a vial on the bed stand for Snow should he awaken. I left some spare linen and a clean bowl filled with water also. I will be back in the early morn…Do not under any circumstances let Snow get up, let Ghost on the bed, or touch any of his burns….Understood?”

That last part was darkly ordered. Luwin did not became a Measter by being a blind fool. He knew Jon and Theon would brawl occasionally, and that Theon was a reckless youth prone to trouble.

Still at the Greyjoy’s serious nod he relaxed, before picking up his pale robes and shuffling out the door.

Theon made sure to secure the locks behind the old man once he had left. Back against the thick wood he ran a hand through his hair soothingly trying to overcome his nausea.

The smell of singed flesh in the air brought back bad memories of burning ships and charred corpses washing up on the shores.

Yet,the Ironborn were not cowards and he had promised Robb to stay and guard his bastard brother.

Berating himself for his moment of weakness, Theon pulled up a nearby chair and sat it besides the sleeping bastard.

He plopped himself down heavily on the chair determined to stay like this till the morn. Even after what had just occurred tis’ night. He found his dark eyes wandering over Snow’s still form.

This was the first time Theon had ever seen Snow asleep. He and the bastard didn’t go hunting and riding for days in the wild like him and Robb did. And after one of their fucks they didn’t (he shuddered at the thought) cuddle….

Still he carefully let his hands wander a bit. After all if he was on guard duty he should get a proper reward right?

Pale skin cut and bloody was still soft. Feeling those soft bouncy curls was electrifying to his skin, usually he was trying to rip them out. Or hold onto Snow during a rut.

During which he had to fight, to conquer, to despoil his prize. Now was his chance to savor what he had conquered and fought tooth and nails with. Ironborn took what they wanted and fought for.

Looking down at crimson lips Theon licked his own dry ones hungrily.

Leaning down carefully he nibbled gently caressing each cut, each curve and savoring the sweet honeyed taste. Theon became more daring in his explorations by slipping inside and swirling his tongue. Carefully he avoided touching the burns across both torso and hands and he put more weight on those lips.

Until Snow let out a soft whimper when Theon gave a particularly sharp nip.

Theon felt the his hunger mounting, lusting for more. He wanted to flip the stubborn bastard over onto his belly whilst kneading that supple pale arse while he plunged-

Shaking his head he thought of old Nan naked to get rid of the little ‘Greyjoy’ between his legs. That did the trick quick, though he was probably going to have to either kill himself in the morning or find Cat the scullery maid to lift her skirt for a copper.

He’d not bother Snow for a while at least. Theon could tumble in the hey with Ros or a maid while the pretty bastard healed.

And then fuck the seven hells out of said pretty bastard. Til’ Snow was raw and bloody from being marked by Lord Theon Greyjoy .

~