When The Throne Bleeds

4. The Whispers of Godswood

Irida and Jon were walking towards the Smithy that evening. A great feast had begun for the royal family, and Catelyn had preferred that the bastards not attend it. Irida wasn't bothered, but from Jon's desolate expression, she could see that he was hurt, as if his old wound had throbbed once more.

I never should've left him alone.

She looked around, trying to distract herself from regretting her decision again. Winterfell was crowded like never before, people were drinking and eating and working and laughing. At least something good had come out of the King's visit.

"Jon, why are we going to the blacksmith?" She turned to him.

"I told you, I'm having a sword made."

"You already have a sword. And I'm very sure you haven't learnt to swing two."

Jon suddenly smirked. "You haven't even learnt to swing one." He started laughing as Irida smacked him on the shoulder.

"It's for Arya." Jon said as he dodged the last blow.

"She really is something else, isn't she?" Irida commented, smiling to herself.

Jon paused for a moment, his boyish face turning serious. "She was the only one who truly understood me when you left me here."

Irida pursed her lips, looking at her feet. Her chest had abruptly tightened in pain. Jon had never truly forgiven her and at that moment, she was ready to fall on her knees begging for his forgiveness.

"Jon, I am-"

"Uncle Benjen!" Jon exclaimed, rather too happily.

A man with an angular face and slit-like eyes had approached them, smiling warmly. His long black hair was tied back in a bun, several strands sticking out haphazardly. His robes and fur coat were pure black, the colour of the Night's Watch.

"Jon! Irida!" He laughed as they hugged him. "You both have grown so much. I never expected you to be this tall, Irida."

"You expect too little of me, uncle." She piped.

Benjen Stark, Ned Stark's younger brother, chuckled lightly. "Ah, I missed your cheekiness. How have you both been, children? You should come visit me at the Wall sometime."

Irida noticed the slight hesitation on Jon's part as Benjen said that.

"Of course, we will. But only if you let us peer down on the other side." Jon said, grinning.

"That," Benjen narrowed his eyes in a jesting manner, "will not happen. I'm not going to let two kids fall to their deaths just because they wanted to see how white is the snow beyond the Wall."

"For all we know, it might be black." Irida said, scratching her chin. Jon stifled a chuckle.

"Enough of this now, we will talk later. For now, I need to go to this fancy feast and eat my heart's full. You don't get roasted pork at The Wall, you know." He winked at them, heading towards the doors.

"Uncle!" Jon called out just as Benjen reached halfway towards the feast. Stepping a bit closer he muttered nervously, "I do need to talk to you later."

Benjen glanced at Irida cautiously and then said, "Later."

As soon as he left, Irida turned to Jon. "Don't tell me . . . don't tell me you're thinking of joining the Night's Watch."

The Night's Watch was a military order which guarded the Wall to keep the wildings and White Walkers, who lived on the other side of the Wall, from crossing into the