Chapter Text
In a silent clearing a single Weirwood stood–a silent bastion of ancient nameless Gods. Like many of its brethren a crying visage was carved upon its trunk.
In the silence of the clearing the sound of wood cracking, snapping, and shifting echoed loud. But before silence could again the clearing reclaim, a soft chime echoed out for but one to hear.
—-——-——-——-—-—
JON
For as long as Jon was capable of understanding his place in the world he knew one thing to be undeniably true, that he was a bastard. How could he forget? When everyone around him seemed to live only to remind him of his status.
Today was his nameday it should have been a day of joy, if anyone had remembered that is. Perhaps he shouldn’t have expected anything; at least then he wouldn’t be so disappointed. Robb’s nameday had come to pass not long ago, and he had been showered with gifts as befit the heir to Winterfell. No such luck for the bastard.
Robb had of course let him play with some of his gifts, and the boys had spent the past few days with a pair of wooden training swords given to him by Ser Rodrik Cassel, playing as Heroes and Lords.
It was why today he was rushing his way to the training yard, Robb had promised to make it up to him today after they were interrupted the day before by his mother. He was so distracted that he had to skid to a stop before he accidentally bowled into Septa Mordane in his rush to the yard.
“Watch where you’re going Bastard” The Septa yelled at him, “Don’t you know better than to run around so recklessly.”
“My Apologies Septa” he replied “it wont happen again”
“You better. Now come along Sansa we have lessons to return to”
Catching sight of his Sister Jon waved at her, but when she paused and went to wave back in turn, the Septa scowled, gripped her arm painfully tighter, and dragged her along muttering about the nature of Bastards.
He lowered his hand watching as his Sister disappeared around a corner and took a moment to compose himself before heading again towards the yard, this time at a far more reasonable pace.
When he reached the yard Robb was already there waiting for him, wooden sword in hand, the memory of his interaction with the septa quickly fleeing his mind as he rushed to grab his sword as well. Nothing had pointed to today’s game being any different than any number of their previous games.
However, during their game when he went to take his turn to play as the Lord of Winterfell, Robb interrupted him.
“You can’t be the Lord of Winterfell” He said, Jon almost couldn’t believe the words leaving Robb’s mouth
“Why not? I was playing as the Lord of Winterfell Yesterday, and you didn’t have a problem with it then”
“But Mother said that I’m the Heir, and that I shouldn’t allow you play above your station”
“But that's not fair Robb! Why should being Heir mean you can play roles I can’t, aren't we Brothers?”
“We are. But I'm not a Bastard”
Five words, and yet they hurt more than any he had heard before. It’s not like he had never heard it said about him before, but Robb was his brother no amount of the servant’s disdain could ever hurt as much as such a casual dismissal from his own brother.
Hearing it he dropped his sword and just walked away. Robb shouted at him to come back, that he didn’t mean it, But Jon couldn’t hear him, no he refused to hear him.
Robb, of course, probably had no idea about how much his words had hurt him. How could he? Besides, why should the noble Heir care for the feelings of the lowly Bastard anyways?
As such, instead of celebrating he was walking through the wolfswood not far from the walls of winterfell, he was not so foolish in his wanderings to leave sight of the castle. He was not supposed to be out here on his own but no one would bother checking on him anyways. Not long ago he had done a favor for one of the guards as such he would turn a blind eye to his wanderings as long as he avoided trouble.
The woods were where he went to calm himself down when life got just a bit too much. Out here amongst the silent pines standing sentinel over the vast hills and streams he could for a time be free of the disdain that seemed to await him in Winterfell.
His sulking was not the only reason he came out into these woods however. Among the many gifts Robb had received was a small sling only large enough to hurl small stones or seeds. It had been a gift from some Vale merchant or other wishing to ingratiate themselves with the future Lord of Winterfell. He had been told it was a traditional children's toy for vale boys not yet strong enough to draw bows.
Apparently many shepherd’s boys carried them as well to ward off predators from their flocks and to hunt small game. Robb had quickly forgotten about it when he proved unable to hit anything reliably, Jon had proved a far more capable shot and had ‘borrowed’ it for the time being to practice with. In his mind the sling was a repayment from Robb for his words even if it was without his permission.
He was wandering through a grove of iron oak trees collecting hard seeds to use as ammunition when he heard the faintest jingle of a bell gently wafting on the breeze. He knew he should head back soon and besides what was the danger in looking closer? Curiosity killed cats not wolves.
His investigation drew him farther into the woods and before he realized it, The walls of Winterfell had disappeared amongst the trees. But Jon paid no attention to his wandering, so focused was he on the soft twinkling that seemed to draw him ever farther into the forest.
Before him the trees broke apart into a large, silent clearing as if the forest itself separated in silent respect or perhaps fear of what stood in its center. For in the middle of the clearing stood a massive Weirwood with an auspicious face carved upon it. At the center of the Weirwood, where the mouth would normally be lightly carved into the bark stood instead a gaping maw, as if the tree itself had been split apart. The crying face was replaced with one which could rightly be labeled hungry.
The sight should have terrified Jon, and in some distant part of his mind warning signals blared. But the bells were ever louder as if just inside the hollow of the tree and he did not even notice as the sling fell from his hands to the ground.
Jon scaled up the roots of the tree and pulled himself up to stand on the lower lip of the tree's grotesque smile. Just one more step and he would finally see the source of that beautiful ringing. Perhaps the old gods were giving him a gift, that whatever it is would be his and his alone, Something of his own not a loan from Robb but something he could truly claim to be his. All he had to do was take a single step…
—-——-——-——-—-—
In a silent clearing a single Weirwood stood, a silent bastion of God’s older than the memories of Men. On its bark was carved a grotesque smile, It radiated out a cruel amusement, Its eyes a feline satisfaction showed. And its lips sealed once more.
—-——-——-——-—-—
Eddard ‘Ned’ Stark
As much as he tried to prove otherwise, Ned knew he was not a perfect father. His position as Lord of Winterfell carried with it the heavy burden of the highest office in the largest of the seven Kingdoms. Yet he always tried to make time for his children, especially on days like this.
Today was Jon’s nameday, and the boy deserved to have a celebration just for himself. Catelyn had not been happy but he had organized a small surprise for the boy at dinner. He had ordered the kitchens to prepare a cake for the boy and he had even commissioned a few small gifts for him. It was a far smaller celebration than Robb’s had been and certainly less than Jon deserved, but it was what his Wife would allow and he would take what small victories he could.
His own personal present to Jon laid upon his desk, a small bow made for a child’s hand. He had noticed Jon had taken to using Robb’s sling with unusual enthusiasm for the usually taciturn child. He hoped that Jon’s enthusiasm for the sling would apply to the bow as well.
Ned left the bow sitting on his desk as he went to the Great hall for dinner. Call him selfish but he wanted the bow to be his own private gift to the boy. When he arrived he found his family already seated at the high table, however Jon was notably missing from his usual place next to Robb. Robb’s usually cheerful grin was gone, replaced with a sullen silence and what looked like tear marks on his face.
“What’s wrong Son” he asked, finally reaching his own spot at the table, “And where is Jon?”
He did not think Robb could look anymore morose, and yet he somehow managed.
“I-i don’t know Father” He half-sobbed, “We-we had a fight and he ran off. I haven’t seen him since”
“The Bastard is probably off sulking somewhere,” Catelyn spoke indignantly, “I’m sure he will turn up sooner or later, but it’s time to eat now”
“It’s his nameday, ill go check on him myself” he said, as he stood and made his way out of the hall.
When he eventually came to Jon’s door he knocked on it, and when no one answered he opened the door to find an empty room. Looking around he found no sign that might indicate where Jon had gone. Frowning he left the room and returned to the Great Hall where the dinner had begun to be served. Robb had looked up hopefully when he entered but his face had again fallen when he didn’t see Jon next to him.
If Jon didn’t show up he would have to postpone the celebration planned for him. When he asked some of the servants, none had seen him after he had left the yard. His concern only grew as he asked around, if Jon was in his room that might've explained no one seeing him after the yard, but he wasn't and so the question of where he was remained unanswered.
His concern only growing further, he sent out a few guards to search around the castle to find Jon or at least someone who had seen the boy. When the guards came back they did so with another Guard in tow and deep seated concern writ on their faces. The extra guard they brought with them looked like a man on his way to the gallows.
“Tell me did you find my boy?” He demanded of them, anxiety growing the longer he looked at their concerned faces.
“No sir, but Henry here was the last to see him”
“Well? Go on, spill it, where is he?”
“W-well Milord he- you see he” The Guard, Henry stuttered “He went- He left the castle Milord”
“AND WHY THE GOD’S WOULD YOU LET HIM LEAVE!” He shouted, as the guard in question stuttered out a jumbled mix of apologies and pleas “Forget it. Tell me where he is now”
“T-the Wolfswood” Henry Stuttered out.
“YOU LET A CHILD OUT INTO THE WOODS ALONE!” Ned was yelling by this point, “PRAY THAT HE RETURNS UNHARMED!”
Turning to Jory he commanded him to organize search parties to set out at once. The Hall was in a scramble at this point as Guards and servants rushed out to prepare for the search, dinner long since forgotten in the rush.
Dozens of men set forth that evening into the Wolfswood, He led one party himself as they searched through the woods for any sign of Jon. Nature itself seemed against their search, the low light from the setting sun and the dry ground meant footsteps would be all but impossible to stumble across.
The Search stretched on for hours with no sign of Jon as a sense of hopelessness set upon the searchers. None would speak it aloud but the likelihood that Jon would never be found was in the backs of their minds. Ned refused to give up on him and so the search continued.
As they continued, Sir Rodrick rode up to him, “My Lord, it pains me to say, but we need to call the searches in, just for the night. The men and horses will end up killing themselves if we attempt to continue this search much longer in the dark.”
“Jon is still out here, I refuse to abandon him” He refused to even acknowledge the idea that Jon might never be found.
“My Lord, you are not abandoning him if you call off the search for just the night. It will help no one if the men injure themselves out here in the dark, and the signs of Jon will be much easier to find in the Day's light.”
“Just one more hour and then I will call the searches in.” He pleaded
“Fine, one more hour.”
—-——-——-——-—-—
By the time the final hour had almost run out no sign of Jon had been found. Most of the search parties began turning back with heavy hearts and bowed heads. Just as Ned was about to give up for the night the dogs perked up and darted further into the forest. The party, who had moments ago been quietly lamenting the failure to find anything quickly picked up after the dogs.
When the dogs had finally come to a stop they were sniffing at the ground beneath one of the largest Weirwoods Ned had ever seen. The handler moved forward to retrieve what the dogs had found and brought it back for him to inspect. In his hands was Robb's sling, the one Jon had ‘borrowed’ from him. It was clear proof that Jon had been here, It was also covered in a red he refused to name.
Rodrick reached over and took the sling, his eyes locked on the red stain. As he examined it, relief colored his face, “It’s only the sap from the Weirwood, a lot of it sure but only sap.”
It was only then that they truly examined the Weirwood in front of them, Its size wasn’t the only notable feature. A crooked grin crossed its face in the place of the usual frown, The wood sticking out in jagged edges as if it had once been chopped open and then forced closed.
The dogs sniffed at the tree, for whatever reason the trail seemed to end at the tree. His hope dimmed as he realized Jon was nowhere to be found, but the sling was at least proof that he was here, that what he refused to name had not come to pass.
“My Lord, we should return in the morning, if the boy left his sling here he’s liable to come back. If he does we’ll find him when we return”
With a heavy heart he gave the command to ride back, praying to the God’s that Jon would survive till the morning.
When he finally returned to Winterfell, he made his way to the kitchen having missed dinner in all the excitement of the evening. However he was stopped completely when he saw what sat in the center of the kitchen. There, on the table sat a small cake. Uneaten.