Chapter 3: Decisions

He stares at his father, for a moment longer. No… not his father. Even if Eddard Stark is the man who birthed him, it’s all to clear to Jon now that this man that sits before him is and always will be Lord of Winterfell first and foremost, and his father… last. Clenching his jaw, the young man reaches out and takes the letter from Lord Stark’s hand. “It would seem that I have my path laid out before me then, my Lord.” Ned just looks a little tired, as he lets go of the letter and sits back somewhat heavily in his seat, letting out a low sigh. “I never wanted this for you, Jon…” He has some idea of what the Lord of Winterfell THINKS he means when he says those words, but all Jon truly hears is that the other man wanted him isolated and forgotten on the Wall, and nowhere else. “No, I suppose you didn’t. You’d rather have me gone, to live out the rest of my days on the Wall, freezing my balls off.” Ned’s jaw clenches a little at that, and some fire sparks in his eyes, outrage for Benjen most likely. And yet, for the first time in his life, Jon sees right through this man who beget him, who provided the seed that saw him birthed. He sees shame and guilt, beneath the outrage. He sees Eddard Stark’s true feelings and knows that his words hit home. “The Night’s Watch is an honorable path, Jon. To be a Watcher on the Wall is to-.” “Guard the Realms of Men. I know. But… it’s not my path. It never will be. Goodbye, Lord Stark.” With that, he turns and leaves the room. Thankfully, the Lord of Winterfell lets him go, likely with the understanding that Jon was leaving. And he was, he was heading for the stables, where he would likely find his horse and his provisions prepared for him. He was just taking the long way around. First, Jon went to his room. They would not begrudge him that much. It took barely any time at all to pack up his things into a rucksack and swing it over his shoulder, heading for the door. However, even then, he did not go directly to the stables. There was at least one person Jon knew he wanted to say goodbye to. Luckily, he ran into her long before he reached her room, because he was fairly certain Lady Stark would have guards outside her door at this point, just to turn him away. But Arya had never been one to conform to anyone else’s plans. It just wasn’t in her nature. “Jon!” The small girl hits him right around the midsection, and he grunts as he embraces her, her thin arms wrapping around him. He smiles down at his half-sister and almost certainly his favorite sibling, even as Arya looks up at him, eyes wide as she takes in his pack. “I-It’s true then? You… you’re leaving?!” She looks half ready to hit him or run from him, so Jon interjects quickly. “Not by choice, Arya. Never by choice.” Arya stops then, blinking as she looks at him, confused and taken aback. “What does that mean?” Jon hesitates. Part of him holds loyalty to his father even now. He might have been Lord of Winterfell first and Jon’s father second, but he’d still done fairly well by Jon all these years. However, when Jon puts all of the small shows of affection by his father up against all of the cruelties and snubs both great and small done by one Lady Catelyn Stark… he finds himself speaking all the same. “The Lady of Winterfell has decided that my presence is no longer wanted nor warranted, Arya. I’ve been told I have to go… tonight.” Arya’s eyes are wide, and her mouth opens and closes a few times as she connects what he’s saying. “The Lady of… m-mother? Mother is banishing you?!” Jon smiles wanly and shrugs his shoulders, as if to say there was nothing, he could do about it. Because truly, there wasn’t. Even little Arya understood that, because rather than beg him to stay in defiance of her mother or anything foolish like that, the young girl immediately jumps to what is, in her mind, the next obvious solution. “T-Then take me with you! I don’t want to stay here if you’re not here Jon! I want to travel; I want to see new places! Let me come along!” As much as Jon yearned to have some part of his family at his side in that way… he immediately knew he couldn’t say yes to Arya. Not ever. He loved her, and where he would be going would be undeniably rough. Essos was not a place for little girls, not if what Jon had heard was true. Plus, he could only imagine that he and Arya wouldn’t even make it to White Harbor, let alone onto a ship across the sea, before Lady Stark had them ridden down. Heh, and if he kidnapped Ned’s youngest daughter, Lord Stark would be right there with the men who came for them. Shaking his head, Jon touches his hand to Arya’s lips before she can exclaim, seeing her eyes already clouding over with anger and sorrow and indignation. “I’m sorry, Arya… but I can’t take you with me. And you know that, don’t you? You know that if I spirited you away from this place, your mother would have us both hunted down. Your place is here, Arya Stark, in Winterfell. My place… my place is elsewhere. However, when you are of age, know that you will always have a place at my side, understood? I… I intend to go across the Narrow Sea, to Essos. I’m going to find my fortune there, as a matter of fact. If someday you follow in my footsteps, seek me out if I still live. Alright?” Arya’s face takes on a look of determination, but it’s the sort of determination of a girl who has a long-term plan, not mulishness that might see Arya trying to follow him into the night. His little ploy has worked, and he breathes an internal sigh of relief as she gives him a sharp nod. Jon smiles at her softly and pulls away, stepping further down the hall, now moving in the direction of the stables. “Goodbye, Arya Stark. Until we meet again.” “U-Until we meet again, Jon!” And then he’s gone, because he’s pretty sure if he spends any longer staring at his youngest sister, he really will try to spirit her away from this place, consequences be damned. Not to get back at Lady Stark or anything like that, but because Jon knows in his heart of hearts that Arya is a wild, untamed wolf girl… and the next time he sees her, if he ever makes it back to Westeros, she’ll likely have had all of that unbridled enthusiasm and rough-and-tumble eagerness stripped from her as the older women in her life forcibly molded her into the perfect little lady. She’d fought all these years against the idea, but Jon knew how the world worked. Arya couldn’t fight against it forever. -x-X-x- There was no one waiting for him in the stables besides the stable hand, as well as a horse and provisions. Jon had half-expected Robb or Theon to show up, Robb for a stiff goodbye and Theon to gloat and laugh at him one last time. But it seemed that Jon was not worthy of either of their time, be it to say farewell or to mock him. That was fine. He took his horse, he took his supplies, and he rode out of Winterfell, making his way down the road towards White Harbor. Not the King’s Road, mind, though he probably could have taken the King’s Road south until it forked off towards White Harbor, but that might have had him encountering the King’s Party, which he knew was currently making its way North, and Jon had no desire to do that, not truthfully. Instead, he took a smaller, but still well-traveled road that ran along the White Knife river, right up until the fork in the river, where he crossed over to the eastern side and continued all the way to White Harbor. He could have taken a boat, perhaps, and maybe he should have instead of riding his horse the entire way, but Jon had always been more inclined to horseback riding than boats, and he was more than likely about to spend a whole lot of time at sea. Regardless, he makes it to White Harbor without incident, and with his father’s letter in hand, gets himself an audience with Lord Manderly. The man is gruff and a bit short with him, but Jon doesn’t see utter condemnation in the Lord’s eyes, so he assumes that word of his exact deeds has not reached White Harbor, or at least not White Harbor’s Lord just yet. Instead, the man is probably just not inclined to respect a bastard. It wouldn’t be the first time. Regardless, his father’s letter gets him in, and whatever contents written seem to impress Lord Manderly enough. A hundred silver stags are brought to him in a bulging coin pouch, and Jon leaves the Lord’s Office a great deal richer than he was going in. However, before he can make it all the way out of the man’s castle, he finds himself accosted by a comely, well-dressed brunette, wearing her hair in a braid. “You’re Jon Snow.” Jon blinks at having his personal space suddenly invaded, though, even as he stands there slightly nonplussed, other parts of his body begin to… go to work. “… What of it?” At having her words confirmed, the young woman flashes a toothy smile, showing off pearly whites that mark her as a daughter of nobility. Before he can really say or do anything else, she’s taken him by his hands and is dragging him along, pulling him from the hallway and into an out of the way nook. Jon could have stopped it, could have stood fast and demanded an explanation… but his blood is already starting to purr awake within him, and a need that he hasn’t scratched since before leaving Winterfell grows. It grows even more when the brunette, after ensuring they’ll have some privacy, drops to her knees before him and begins to work open his trousers. Though, as much as he wants this to continue to it’s inevitable conclusion, Jon does have SOME sense left to him. He stops her, warding her off with a hand and practically growling down at her. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” She looks up at him almost surprised, her big brown eyes nice and wide. Then, she smiles again, almost impishly. “I want to see if the rumors are true. If you’re as big as they say you are.” Jon’s eyes widen slightly, and in his surprised stupor, the girl takes advantage, finishing with unbuckling his belt, after which she reaches in and unceremoniously drags his cock out of its confines. Jon grunts and the young woman gasps at around the same time. Her slender fingers feel good around his pulsing, throbbing length, even as her full, pouty lips rest just inches away from his cockhead. “It… it’s true. You’re gigantic. A-And warm… so warm…” She stares at his cock like she’s in a trance. Jon is about to ask her if she’s done or if she’s really going to just provoke him like this and expect him to leave well enough alone, but before he can say anything… she takes him in her mouth, enveloping his cockhead between her full lips and beginning to suck at his cock. Jon grunts and then lets out a loud groan and judging by the wide-eyed expression on her face as she glances up at him, she really doesn’t know what she’s doing… but she keeps doing it. And she enjoys doing it too, from the look of things, slobbering and slurping all over his cock in a completely undignified, inexperienced, but altogether enthusiastic manner. She bobs up and down on his knob, pulling back once in a while to catch her breath and moan wantonly as she strokes his saliva-coated shaft up and down with both hands. Her drool ends up dripping down onto her bared upper chest, and sliding into her cleavage, staining her dress a bit as she makes a complete mess of herself. It still feels amazing though, especially after the weeks of travel from Winterfell to White Harbor. Sliding one of his gloved hands through the brunette’s braid, he grips gently but firmly and helps her along just a bit, throwing his head back and groaning his enjoyment. Jon… Jon could get used to this. Of course, it’s not long before even her inexperienced technique ends up sending him right over the edge. Jon groans and tosses his head back, giving her a belated warning. “Fuck, here it comes!” To her credit, she tries. She tries to swallow it all, something that Jon wouldn’t have expected from a noblewoman. He would have thought she would move to the side or something. Though to be fair, he wouldn’t have really expected her to drop down to her knees and suck off a bastard in the first place. And yet, that’s exactly what she’d done, even knowing who he was. Some of his seed escapes her mouth and drips down onto her dress, but the majority of it ends up down the young woman’s throat, gulped down as her neck convulses visibly. When she pulls away, Jon quickly begins to tuck his cock back into his pants, staring down at her slightly askance, half-expecting her to scream for the guards. Instead, she scoops up what seed managed to escape her lips and sucks her fingers clean, before standing and giving him a messy sort of grin. “Your seed is quite delicious, Jon Snow. Oh, how it warms my belly. If only it could warm my womb as well… but alas, I must keep my maidenhood intact for my wedding day. Still, thank you for the treat. It was most appreciated.” And like that, she walks away. Jon stares after her, knowing without a doubt, despite the fact that she never told him her name, that he’d just had an encounter with Wynafryd Manderly, the eldest daughter of Lord Manderly. With that in mind, Jon decides that it’s about time he was on his way. Luckily, he’d entered the port town of White Harbor in the early morning hours, and there were still ships in the harbor preparing to leave that could take him across the Narrow Sea, to Essos. His sale of his horse gave him enough money for such passage, allowing him to keep his small fortune of silver intact, at least for the moment. But as Jon shopped around for passage, he found himself pondering his options. His father had told him to go to Braavos and open an account with the Iron Bank, post-haste. That probably was the best idea, if only because the Iron Bank was actually most likely to TAKE his silver stags compared to other establishments across the Eastern Continent. But… Jon did wonder if that was truly where he wanted to go. At the end of the day, as far as he could tell, he had three choices. He was definitely leaving on one of these damn ships, he had no intention of staying in White Harbor any longer than necessary. But which? He could go to Braavos, as his Lord father had suggested. He could also go to Pentos or Myr. Truth be told, Jon didn’t know much about either of them. He knew the most about Braavos. The question was, was he still feeling rebellious enough to ignore conventional wisdom and take one of the other two boats rather than the one heading to the home of the Iron Bank?

-x-X-x-

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