A Game of Thrones Chapter Five

JonThere were times non many, scarce a fewwhen Jon Snow was glad he was a bastard. As he filled his wine cup once more from a carry outing fl pastn, it struck him that this might be bingle of them.He colonised back in his home plate on the bench among the fresher squires and drank. The sweet, fruity taste of summerwine filled his mouth and brought a smile to his lips.The Great Hall of Winterfell was blurred with smoke and heavy with the smell of roasted meat and fresh-baked bread. Its grey stone walls were draped with banners. White, gold, crimson the direwolf of Stark, Baratheons crowned stag, the lion of Lannister. A singer was playing the steep harp and reciting a ballad, but down at this end of the hall his voice could scarcely be perceive above the roar of the fire, the clangor of pewter plates and cups, and the starting time-down mutter of a hundred drunken conversations.It was the fourth hour of the welcoming feast laid for the fag regnant. Jons brothers and siste rs had been seated with the royal children, beneath the raised platform where skipper and Lady Stark hosted the king and queen. In honor of the occasion, his lord father would doubtless permit each child a glass of wine, but no more than that. Down here on the benches, there was no one to stop Jon drinking as much as he had a hunger for.And he was finding that he had a mans thirst, to the raucous delight of the youths close to him, who urged him on every time he drained a glass. They were fine company, and Jon relished the stories they were telling, tales of passage of arms and bedding and the hunt. He was certain that his companions were more entertaining than the kings offspring. He had sated his curiosity about the visitors when they made their entrance. The procession had passed not a foot from the place he had been presumptuousness on the bench, and Jon had gotten a good long look at them all.His lord father had come first, escorting the queen. She was as beautiful as men said. A jeweled tiara gleamed amidst her long golden hair, its emeralds a perfect match for the green of her eyes. His father helped her up the steps to the dais and led her to her seat, but the queen neer so much as looked at him. Even at fourteen, Jon could contact through her smile.Next had come King Robert himself, with Lady Stark on his arm. The king was a spectacular disappointment to Jon. His father had talked of him often the peerless Robert Baratheon, demon of the Trident, the fiercest warrior of the realm, a giant among princes. Jon saw solo a fat man, red-faced downstairs his beard, sweating through his silks. He walked like a man half in his cups.After them came the children. Little Rickon first, managing the long walk with all the dignity a three-year-old could muster. Jon had to urge him on when he stopped to visit. Close behind came Robb, in grey wool trimmed with white, the Stark colors. He had the Princess Myrcella on his arm. She was a wisp of a girl, not qui te eight, her hair a cascade of golden curls under a jeweled net. Jon recoverd the shy looks she gave Robb as they passed between the tables and the timid focus she smiled at him. He decided she was insipid. Robb didnt even read the sense to realize how stupid she was he was grinning like a fool.His half sisters escorted the royal princes. Arya was paired with plump young Tommen, whose white-blond hair was longer than hers. Sansa, two years older, drew the crown prince, Joffrey Baratheon. He was twelve, younger than Jon or Robb, but taller than either, to Jons vast dismay. Prince Joffrey had his sisters hair and his stimulates dark green eyes. A thick tangle of blond curls dripped down past his golden choker and high velvet collar. Sansa looked radiant as she walked beside him, but Jon did not like Joffreys pouty lips or the bored, disdainful way he looked at Winterfells Great Hall.He was more interested in the pair that came behind him the queens brothers, the Lannisters of C asterly Rock. The Lion and the imp there was no mistaking which was which. Ser Jaime Lannister was twin to Queen Cersei tall and golden, with flashing green eyes and a smile that cut like a knife. He wore crimson silk, high black boots, a black satin cloak. On the breast of his tunic, the lion of his House was embroidered in gold thread, roaring its defiance. They called him the Lion of Lannister to his face and mouth Kingslayer behind his back.Jon found it hard to look away from him. This is what a king should look like, he thought to himself as the man passed.Then he saw the other one, waddling along half-hidden by his brothers side. Tyrion Lannister, the youngest of Lord Tywins brood and by far the ugliest. All that the gods had strainn to Cersei and Jaime, they had denied Tyrion. He was a dwarf, half his brothers height, struggling to keep maltreat on stunted legs. His judgement was too large for his body, with a brutes squashed-in face beneath a swollen shelf of brow. One green eye and one black one peered out from under a lank fall of hair so blond it bring downmed white. Jon watched him with fascination.The last of the high lords to enter were his uncle, Benjen Stark of the Nights Watch, and his fathers ward, young Theon Greyjoy. Benjen gave Jon a warm smile as he went by. Theon ignored him utterly, but there was nothing new in that. After all had been seated, toasts were made, thanks were given and returned, and then the feasting began.Jon had started drinking then, and he had not stopped.Something rubbed once against his leg beneath the table. Jon saw red eyes staring up at him. Hungry again? he asked. There was quiet half a honeyed chicken in the center of the table. Jon reached out to tear off a leg, then had a better idea. He knifed the bird whole and allow the carcass slide to the floor between his legs. Ghost ripped into it in savage silence. His brothers and sisters had not been permitted to bring their wolves to the banquet, but there were more curs than Jon could count at this end of the hall, and no one had said a word about his pup. He told himself he was fortunate in that too.His eyes stung. Jon rubbed at them savagely, cursing the smoke. He swallowed another gulp of wine and watched his direwolf devour the chicken.Dogs moved between the tables, trailing after the serving girls. One of them, a black mongrel bitch with long yellow eyes, caught a scent of the chicken. She stopped and edged under the bench to get a sh atomic number 18. Jon watched the confrontation. The bitch growled low in her throat and moved closer. Ghost looked up, silent, and fixed the dog with those hot red eyes. The bitch snapped an angry challenge. She was three times the size of the direwolf pup. Ghost did not move. He stood over his prize and opened his mouth, baring his fangs. The bitch tensed, barked again, then thought better of this fight. She turned and slunk away, with one last defiant snap to ransom her pride. Ghost went back t o his meal.Jon grinned and reached under the table to ruffle the shaggy white fur. The direwolf looked up at him, nipped gently at his hand, then went back to eating.Is this one of the direwolves Ive heard so much of? a familiar voice asked close at hand.Jon looked up happily as his uncle Ben commit a hand on his star and ruffled his hair much as Jon had ruffled the wolfs. Yes, he said. His name is Ghost.One of the squires interrupted the bawdy story hed been telling to touch room at the table for their lords brother. Benjen Stark straddled the bench with long legs and took the wine cup out of Jons hand. Summerwine, he said after a taste. Nothing so sweet. How many cups have you had, Jon?Jon smiled.Ben Stark laughed. As I feared. Ah, well. I believe I was younger than you the first time I got truly and sincerely drunk. He snagged a roasted onion, dripping brown with gravy, from a nearby trencher and bit into it. It crunched.His uncle was sharp-featured and gaunt as a mountain cra g, but there was always a hint of joke in his blue-grey eyes. He dressed in black, as befitted a man of the Nights Watch. Tonight it was rich black velvet, with high leather boots and a wide hit with a silver buckle. A heavy silver chain was looped round his neck. Benjen watched Ghost with amusement as he ate his onion. A very even-tempered wolf, he observed.Hes not like the others, Jon said. He never makes a sound. Thats why I named him Ghost. That, and because hes white. The others are all dark, grey or black.There are still direwolves beyond the Wall. We hear them on our rangings. Benjen Stark gave Jon a long look. Dont you usually eat at table with your brothers?Most times, Jon answered in a flat voice. entirely tonight Lady Stark thought it might give insult to the royal family to seat a bastard among them.I see. His uncle glanced over his shoulder at the raised table at the far end of the hall. My brother does not seem very festive tonight.Jon had noticed that too. A basta rd had to learn to notice things, to read the truth that battalion hid behind their eyes. His father was observing all the courtesies, but there was tightness in him that Jon had seldom seen before. He said little, feel out over the hall with hooded eyes, seeing nothing. Two seats away, the king had been drinking heavily all night. His broad face was flushed behind his great black beard. He made many a toast, laughed loudly at every jest, and attacked each dish like a starving man, but beside him the queen seemed as cold as an ice sculpture. The queen is angry too, Jon told his uncle in a low, quiet voice. Father took the king down to the crypts this afternoon. The queen didnt want him to go.Benjen gave Jon a careful, measuring look. You dont miss much, do you, Jon? We could use a man like you on the Wall.Jon swelled with pride. Robb is a stronger lance than I am, but Im the better sword, and Hullen says I sit a horse as well as anyone in the move.Notable achievements.Take me wit h you when you go back to the Wall, Jon said in a fulminant rush. Father pull up stakes give me leave to go if you ask him, I know he will.Uncle Benjen studied his face carefully. The Wall is a hard place for a boy, Jon.I am almost a man grown, Jon protested. I will turn fifteen on my next name day, and Maester Luwin says bastards grow up faster than other children.Thats true enough, Benjen said with a downward twist of his mouth. He took Jons cup from the table, filled it fresh from a nearby pitcher, and drank down a long swallow.Daeren Targaryen was only fourteen when he conquered Dorne, Jon said. The Young Dragon was one of his heroes.A conquest that lasted a summer, his uncle pointed out. Your Boy King lost ten grand men taking the place, and another fifty trying to hold it. Someone should have told him that war isnt a game. He took another sip of wine. Also, he said, wiping his mouth, Daeren Targaryen was only eighteen when he died. Or have you forgotten that part? I forget nothing, Jon boasted. The wine was making him bold. He tried to sit very straight, to make himself seem taller. I want to serve in the Nights Watch, Uncle.He had thought on it long and hard, lying abed at night while his brothers slept round him. Robb would someday inherit Winterfell, would command great armies as the Warden of the North. Bran and Rickon would be Robbs bannermen and rule holdfasts in his name. His sisters Arya and Sansa would marry the heirs of other great houses and go south as bawd of castles of their own. But what place could a bastard hope to earn?You dont know what youre asking, Jon. The Nights Watch is a sworn brotherhood. We have no families. None of us will ever father sons. Our wife is duty. Our mistress is honor.A bastard can have honor too, Jon said. I am ready to swear your jinx.You are a boy of fourteen, Benjen said. Not a man, not yet. Until you have known a woman, you cannot understand what you would be giving up.I dont care about that Jon said hot ly.You might, if you knew what it meant, Benjen said. If you knew what the oath would cost you, you might be less eager to pay the price, son.Jon felt anger rise inside him. Im not your sonBenjen Stark stood up. Mores the pity. He put a hand on Jons shoulder. Come back to me after youve fathered a few bastards of your own, and well see how you feel.Jon trembled. I will never father a bastard, he said carefully. Never He spat it out like venom.Suddenly he realized that the table had fallen silent, and they were all looking at him. He felt the tears begin to well behind his eyes. He pushed himself to his feet.I must be excused, he said with the last of his dignity. He whirled and bolted before they could see him cry. He must have drunk more wine than he had realized. His feet got tangled under him as he tried to leave, and he lurched sideways into a serving girl and sent a flagon of spiced wine crashing to the floor. Laughter boomed all around him, and Jon felt hot tears on his cheeks . Someone tried to fast(a) him. He wrenched free of their grip and ran, half-blind, for the door. Ghost followed close at his heels, out into the night.The yard was quiet and empty. A lone sentry stood high on the battlements of the cozy wall, his cloak pulled tight around him against the cold. He looked bored and miserable as he huddled there alone, but Jon would have traded places with him in an instant. Otherwise the castle was dark and deserted. Jon had seen an abandoned holdfast once, a drear place where nothing moved but the wind and the stones kept silent about whatever people had lived there. Winterfell reminded him of that tonight.The sounds of music and song spilled through the open windows behind him. They were the last things Jon wanted to hear. He wiped away his tears on the sleeve of his shirt, furious that he had let them fall, and turned to go.Boy, a voice called out to him. Jon turned.Tyrion Lannister was sitting on the ledge above the door to the Great Hall, look ing for all the world like a gargoyle. The dwarf grinned down at him. Is that animal a wolf?A direwolf, Jon said. His name is Ghost. He stared up at the little man, his disappointment suddenly forgotten. What are you doing up there? Why arent you at the feast?Too hot, too noisy, and Id drunk too much wine, the dwarf told him. I learned long ago that it is considered rude to vomit on your brother. Might I have a closer look at your wolf?Jon hesitated, then nodded slowly. Can you climb down, or shall I bring a ladder?Oh, bleed that, the little man said. He pushed himself off the ledge into empty air. Jon gasped, then watched with awe as Tyrion Lannister spun around in a tight ball, landed lightly on his hands, then vaulted backward onto his legs.Ghost backed away from him uncertainly.The dwarf dusted himself off and laughed. I believe Ive f justifiedlyened your wolf. My apologies.Hes not scared, Jon said. He knelt and called out. Ghost, come here. Come on. Thats it.The wolf pup padded closer and nuzzled at Jons face, but he kept a wary eye on Tyrion Lannister, and when the dwarf reached out to pet him, he drew back and bared his fangs in a silent snarl. Shy, isnt he? Lannister observed.Sit, Ghost, Jon commanded. Thats it. detainment still. He looked up at the dwarf. You can touch him now. He wont move until I tell him to. Ive been training him.I see, Lannister said. He ruffled the snow-white fur between Ghosts ears and said, Nice wolf.If I wasnt here, hed tear out your throat, Jon said. It wasnt actually true yet, but it would be.In that case, you had best stay close, the dwarf said. He cocked his oversized head to one side and looked Jon over with his mismatched eyes. I am Tyrion Lannister.I know, Jon said. He rose. Standing, he was taller than the dwarf. It made him feel strange.Youre Ned Starks bastard, arent you?Jon felt a coldness pass right through him. He pressed his lips together and said nothing.Did I offend you? Lannister said. Sorry. Dwarfs dont have to be tactful. Generations of capering fools in motley have won me the right to dress badly and say any damn thing that comes into my head. He grinned. You are the bastard, though.Lord Eddard Stark is my father, Jon admitted stiffly.Lannister studied his face. Yes, he said. I can see it. You have more of the north in you than your brothers.Half brothers, Jon corrected. He was pleased by the dwarfs comment, but he tried not to let it show.Let me give you some counsel, bastard, Lannister said. Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armor yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you.Jon was in no mood for anyones counsel. What do you know about being a bastard?All dwarfs are bastards in their fathers eyes.You are your mothers trueborn son of Lannister.Am I? the dwarf replied, sardonic. Do tell my lord father. My mother died birthing me, and hes never been sure.I dont even know who my mother was, Jon said.Some woman, no doubt. Most of them are. He favored Jon with a rueful grin. Remember this, boy. All dwarfs may be bastards, yet not all bastards collect be dwarfs. And with that he turned and sauntered back into the feast, whistling a tune. When he opened the door, the light from within threw his shadow clear across the yard, and for just a moment Tyrion Lannister stood tall as a king.