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As the rescued Free Folk trudged wearily towards the Wall, Jon Snow led the way with a determined stride, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and resolve. Tormund and Eddison flanked him, their eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of danger. Iridessa walked alongside them, her thoughts swirling, thinking about the conversation she had hours before.
As the ship sailed towards the Wall, Iridessa found herself drawn to Jon, the enigmatic Lord Commander whose actions had saved countless lives at Hardhome. With a sense of curiosity tinged with respect, she approached him, the rolling waves providing a soothing backdrop to their conversation.
"Lord Commander," she began gently, her voice carrying a hint of curiosity. "I hope you don't mind my asking, but I'm curious about your background. What was life like for you growing up?"
Jon's gaze turned towards her, his expression thoughtful as he considered her question. "I grew up in Winterfell," he replied, a mix of nostalgia and heaviness in his tone. "It was a place of warmth, family, and honor."
Intrigued, Iridessa pressed further. "Winterfell... is that a castle?" she asked, her knowledge of the world beyond the Wall limited to tales passed down through generations.
Jon nodded. "Yes, it's a great castle, the seat of House Stark. I was raised there alongside the Stark children, though I'm not a Stark by name."
Iridessa's brows furrowed slightly, absorbing this information. "So, you were a part of House Stark but not one of them?" she sought clarification, confused.
"Exactly," Jon confirmed. "I was treated as one of the family, but there was always a reminder that I was different. A bastard."
"Did you have any siblings?" she asked, curiosity lacing her words.
Jon's expression darkened slightly at the mention of siblings, a shadow passing over his features. "I had half-brothers Robb, Rickon, Bran, and half-sisters, Arya and Sansa" he replied, his voice tinged with sadness. "But they're gone now."
Iridessa's heart went out to him, a sympathetic understanding coloring her gaze. "I'm sorry," she murmured softly, her voice laced with compassion.
Jon nodded in acknowledgment, his eyes distant as he retreated into his memories. "Thank you," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
The ship sailed on, the rhythm of the conversation mirroring the gentle sway of the vessel. Iridessa, growing more engrossed in Jon's tale, probed further, "What led you to join the Night's Watch?"
Jon's gaze returned to her, his eyes reflecting a mix of sorrow and determination. "Complicated circumstances, duty, and a desire to find my own path," he explained, choosing his words carefully.
