"How many friends are you sure are your friends? I have one, and I trust him with my life without a care in the world." Aenar Targaryen thinking of Robb Stark.
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After six days of traveling, Jon finally returned to Winterfell. The old castle was simply gigantic, the size of five or six football fields. There were ruins dating back eight thousand years and new structures that had survived millennia of renovations by the Winter Kings.
Without dragons, conquering Winterfell was harder than opening the legs of a Septan loyal to the Seven and having sex with her. Of course, no castle was impenetrable; if there were traitors, no matter how strong the castle, it would fall to the treachery of others within.
Jon had no trouble entering Winterfell, even though he was a bastard in everyone's eyes, he was the bastard of Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Lord Paramount of the North, the guards would never stop him from entering Winterfell, especially with the news of the Crown's victory over House Greyjoy's rebellion.
That meant Eddard Stark was returning to Winterfell, and everyone knew how much the Lord of Winterfell loved his bastard.
Upon entering Winterfell, the first thing Jon noticed was the warmth of the hot springs beneath the castle that dispelled the deadly cold of the North, and the second was the atmosphere of the place. Unlike six months ago, the atmosphere, which had been filled with the tension and excitement of war, was now calmer, though he was even more excited about the Lord of Winterfell's victory.
Lady Lya was in her sheath at his waist, making it impossible for anyone to see the precious sword; Jon had no intention of revealing it anytime soon. He would take advantage of it and begin to divinize his name to the people of the north when he was ten.
Jon walked towards the inner part of the castle, ignoring the surprised looks of the servants, and continued towards his room, or rather the storeroom he called his room. Arriving there, he was surprised to find it clean and tidy, unlike what he had expected.
"Looks like Robb helped me out again." Jon muttered to himself, trying to guess who had ordered his room cleaned. In the whole of the North, only Eddard and Robb could do such a thing. Since his uncle had not yet returned from the war, he knew it was Robb who had ordered his room cleaned.
Leaving his things on the bed, Jon heard footsteps approaching quickly, and without looking back, he could guess who was coming.
The eldest son of House Stark, Robb Stark.
And just as Jon had suspected, Robb appeared at the bedroom door with a slightly sweaty face after running to his room for some time.
Seeing Jon packing his things, Robb put a broad smile on his face and quickly entered the room, checking his body for any sign of injury.
"By the old gods, Jon, I thought you were dead!" Robb said, his voice tinged with anger, but with an enormous sense of concern and relief for his well-being.
Jon smiled and said. "I'm not going to die before you, Robb."
Robb rolled his eyes and said with a false look of anger. "Are you cursing me to die before you?"
"As I, a mere bastard, dare to curse the great heir of Winterfell." Jon replied with a smile on his lips.
Robb sighed and hugged Jon. "It's good to see you again, brother."
"I say the same, brother." Jon hugged him back and spoke in a different tone. "It's good to see this stupid face again."
When they parted, they both looked at each other and laughed.
"Where have you been?" Rob asked, sitting down on Jon's bed, his blue eyes sparkling at the thought of the adventures his brother had been on in the last six moons.
"I lived in Wolfwood for six moons, ran away from some bears, hunted rabbits and slept looking at the stars." Jon replied, noticing the expression on Robb's face. He knew very well that Robb, like any six year old, wanted to venture out into the world as he had done before.
Robb's eyes showed shock and envy as he listened to Jon's experiences, especially his escape from the giant bear.
"He was probably ten feet tall, and his brown fur could warm at least five people on a cold night. He could knock down a tree with one swipe of his paw. It was incredible." Even though he was exaggerating a bit, seeing the look of admiration and envy on Robb's face made Jon's heart swell with pride.
"I wish I could have been there." Robb muttered to himself, his voice tinged with envy.
"You know that's impossible. You're going to be Lord of Winterfell and future Lord Paramount of the North." Jon said shaking his head, the chances of Robb being allowed to do something so dangerous were slim to none. Either Eddard or Catelyn would never allow him to be in danger.
Robb knew this and showed a look of sadness, he let out a sigh as he thought of his future responsibilities. "Jon, do you think I will be a good lord? Will my people survive the cold? Will they have food to fill their stomachs?" He asked in a slightly tense and confused tone.
"What nonsense you're talking, of course you will be a good lord, but for that you have to learn and learn without rest. Only someone with knowledge can wield the full power of a Lord Paramount." Jon didn't hesitate to answer Robb, he thought it was normal for the six-year-old to doubt his own future.
Many adults had doubts about themselves, let alone a six-year-old boy being taught the art of government and battle. Robb gained confidence as he listened to his brother's words and smiled brightly. "You should be Lord of Winterfell. You always do better than me in Maester Luwin's tests, not to mention your fencing lessons with the old Master of Arms, Rodrik Cassel."
Jon's lips twitched at the boy's bold words. He looked at Robb and said, rolling his eyes. "When your mother hears that, she'll want my tongue and maybe my head."
Robb pondered Jon's words for a moment and nodded in agreement. "You're right, I can even imagine the look on her face. Her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide with rage." He said, trying to imitate the expression his mother would probably make.
Jon started to laugh, imagining the angry red fish, and Robb joined in. They looked at each other and left the room together, laughing.
Just as they were about to head for the training grounds, they were stopped by Ser Rodrik Cassel, Master at Arms of Winterfell.
"Lady Stark has requested your presence in the Great Hall, Snow." Though Rodrik showed no dislike for Jon's bastard status, he also showed no goodwill.
Jon raised an eyebrow, shrugged, and headed for the Great Hall. Robb showed a worried expression and followed Jon side by side. He promised himself he wouldn't let his mother do anything to Jon.
Arriving at the Great Hall, which could easily seat five hundred men, Jon looked up at the highest seat and saw Lady Catelyn Stark, born Tully, sitting on the throne of the former Kings of Winter with elegance and arrogance on her face.
In her arms, Sansa, just over a year old, gazed curiously at Jon with her whole hand stuffed in her mouth.
The baby's sweet, adorable eyes were one of the most unbelievably adorable things Jon had ever seen. He wanted to squeeze those adorable cheeks, but put it aside when he felt Catelyn's gaze on him.
"So arrogant... sitting on it like it's her throne. Who would have thought that just by spreading her legs and giving birth to an heir, she could sit on such an important and historic throne. It's like they say, a man can conquer the world, but a woman conquers a man's heart. Jon thought as he saw the veiled arrogance on Catelyn's face.
He knew that she had prayed to the gods for death to take him again and was not at all surprised to see her expression full of disgust and anger towards him. Jon didn't know if there was a more venomous woman in the world, but Catelyn was definitely in the top three.
"Lady Stark, your beauty graces my eyes with praise. I hope you are well and happy." Jon bowed to Catelyn and spoke words of admiration and respect, but anyone could see from his expression that his respect was just empty, meaningless words.
Robb wanted to laugh at Jon's bored expression, but he held himself back when he saw the look of anger on his mother's face.
"I see you're safe, bastard." Catelyn spoke with no shame in her words. Without Eddard to control her temper, she revealed her ruthless, venomous nature.
"Yes, I'm alive, but not because you prayed for my safety, my lady." Jon replied with a look of indifference. Catelyn may have seemed strong at the moment, but she really wasn't, she was only responsible for keeping Winterfell in order.
It was foolish to give control of Winterfell to a woman who had never had any military training. It was the Master at Arms of Winterfell himself, Ser Rodrik Cassel, who was in charge.
The moment Eddard Stark returned to Winterfell, Catelyn would become just another powerless woman in this world, like so many others.
As for her anger at that moment, Jon didn't care; he would disobey her orders without hesitation. His oath was to Eddard Stark and Robb Stark.
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