꧁~~~Cersei Lannister~~~꧂
꧁~~~298 After Conquest~~~꧂
꧁Cersei of the one of the Great Houses of Westeros, House Lannister, was used to disrespect shown to her for most of her life. Most people underestimate the butterfly, or, in this case, the Lioness. Nobody seems to ever realize that her claws are just as long and sharp as anybody else's. And yet despite that fact, the Wolf made her feel like an utter fool in front of everyone. But also the fact that his eyes told her that he knew that and was challenging her made it all the more infuriating.
The Stag King, her disgusting husband, enjoyed the snarky and sly comments about her brother Jaime and herself to no end. Cersei may be proud, but moreover, she is fucking pissed. Her son gets shunned by his father all because some kid utterly humiliated her brother in combat, and that part is another thing in itself as well.
The first night in Winterfell is certainly not going swell at all.
Joffrey, her beautiful and blessed firstborn son, sulks by himself at a table in the Great Hall, looking around with slightly widened eyes, looking thoroughly out of place here. She herself feels out of place. Beside her sits a Tully fish turned Stark wolf. Catelyn Stark isn't much company, she notes. Underneath all the courtesies, it's the same as her, really. Cold, miserable and prideful.
Sharp laughter rings out in the hall as music fills the air, the drunken atmosphere baring down on her as she takes another large gulp of her wine. Cersei's eyes trail across the room, watching her pig of a husband wearing his antlered golden crown, downing is ale and wine, groping and feeling up another wench without a single thought nor care for his wife. To say that Cersei Lannister was beyond pissed off tonight would be the understatement of the whole century.
"Have you ever been in the North before, Your Grace?"
Cersei barely turns to the sound of Lady Catelyn's words pouring from her mouth, not really caring to listen all that much. But she courtesies her anyway, as she had been taught to do since she learned how to breathe.
"No.."
Robert roars in laughter, slapping the backside of another wench as he yanks the woman onto his lap, utterly burying his face down into her breasts as Cersei's eye twitches slightly in fury.
"It's a lovely country."
"I'm sure it is quite grim after King's Landing... I remember when Ned brought me up here."
The Lady of Winterfell says as a way to somehow ease the tension practically radiating off of Cersei as the Queen would rather be anywhere else. Her anger only grows as she watches the Northeners party with her husband whislt her her practically sulks by himself at a table.
Sansa Stark though catches her eye for just a moment as Sansa talks quietly between herself and her best friend, Jeyne Poole. Despite a raging feast going on all around them, the two best friends are in a world of their own, gossiping about this and that, the crown Prince and what-not.
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And through it all, the young girl from the minor House Poole sworn to Stark, is stitching something together with needle and thread under the table.
"What are you doing?"
Sansa questions over the noisy mixture of music and voice as Jeyne continues with her needlework, a smile and blush creeping onto her face as she glances at her best friend.
"Do you not remember? I told you about this for the past week or more! They are for your brother."
"What?"
Sansa half gawks at Jeyne as she holds up the unfinished leather gloves meant for Benget as a gift in excitement.
"I'm making them for your brother."
"You mean Purple Eyes? Why would you want to give anything to him?"
"Oh, your brother is an absolute dream!"
Jeyne mutters as if in a different world for a moment, more than likely imagining the Violet Wolf in her mind as Sansa scoffs a little, taking the smallest of sips from the one cup of wine that her father allows her and her siblings to drink at feasts.
"He's going to be my husband one day.."
"Jeyne!"
"What? Can't a girl dream a little?"
"But he isn't even of the North, not truly. Ben is no better than a Southerner- a Dayne of Dorne."
"I hear that men are built a bit differently from Dorne and are certainly blessed down south.."
"Jeyne!"
The young girl from the minor House laughs at Sansa's embarrsed and cringed face as a servant soon approaches Sansa, quietly and respectfully telling her that her mother wants her attention. Sansa glances at the high table, seeing her mother motion her over to then with her eyes.
Cersei watches as Sansa approaches, the practiced courtesy of the bow before the Queen playing out as Cersei smiles the most fake yet believable happy smile there ever was.
"Hello little dove."
Her words could almost be thought of as a sneer as she grits her teeth slightly through her smile.
"But you are a beauty. How old are you?"
"Thirteen, Your Grace."
"You're tall. Still growing?"
"I think so, Your Grace."
"And have you bled yet?"
Sansa loses her excited smile as it drops down onto the floor at the Queen's forwardness. Cersei just smirks as Sansa shakes her head.
"N-No, Your Grace."
"Mm... And your dress, did you make it?"
Cersei asks through feigned interest and joy as the Stark girl with that Tully red hair nods happily, eager in any way to please the Queen.
"Such a talent, little dove. You must make something for me."
"Of course! I-I mean.. of course, Your Gra-"
A loud roar of laughter erupts from the other side of the Great Hall, catching the two Stark's and the one Lannister's attention. Northmen and boys all laugh at her little blonde son as he wipes off food from his face, embarrsed tears and anger forming on Joffrey's face as Cersei clenches her fists tightly onto her armrests. She looks across the other side of the room, noticing the little girl with brown hair, Arya, Sansa's little sister.
"Forgive my daughter's actions, Your Grace. I will have-"
"No, it is you who must forgive me, Lady Stark. Three hours into this feast and I have barely had time to breathe and relax from the long trip from the South. Excuse me."
The Queen cuts off the Lady of Winterfell, standing and turning to Lady Catelyn for just a moment, smiling with poison behind it as she lifts her dress slightly, beginning to walk out of the Great Hall. Everyone watching her leave cannot tell that she is beyond furious with a certain Violet Wolf and the rest of his wolf family.
Two of her guards move to follow her but she waves them off with her hand. One of them didn't seem to get the message as she turns sharply, her Lannister green eyes etched with daggers as the guard nearly stumbles, halting where he stood before Cersei turned back around, storming around the halls of Winterfell in search for the Violet Wolf. And Cersei Lannister is usually a determined person. If she wants something, sooner or later, that something belonging to someone else becomes something belonging to her.
And yet she can't seem to find any hint on where he is. How would she know? The Winterfell keep is so foreign to her that she might as well be looking for the boy in Pentos or something. It wouldn't be a surprise to her if a story popped up about Benget Stark visiting Essos or something of the likes. Benget Stark, the Violet Wolf, future Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North has had an adventurous life thus far with plenty of women it seems to have kept him company.
The fact that he is similar to Jaime in that all women seem to flock to him makes Cersei dislike the Stark-Dayne even further than she does now. The cherry on top of it all is how Robert had insulted her own son, saying that Benget was better in every way, shape, and form than her own flesh and blood.
It quite literally makes her blood boil with anger.
The air is chilly, even if it is nearly summer. Summer in the North is dull in comparison to what it's like in the South. Cold... Cersei hates the fucking cold.
The faint noise of the feast in the Great Hall lingers in the air. The sound of a lute calling out softly is far different from the loud and fast instruments in the feast. A calm melody of sorts and she immediately puts it together on just who is playing that lute.
Walking quickly with a handful of her dress in her hands, Cersei walks in a fast pace in the direction of the sound of the lute playing. Turning another corner of the Great Keep of Winterfell, she is met with a long hall with just a few doors on the left and right. Approaching the door with the sound of a lute humming softly behind it, she moves to harshly throw it open, only finding that she is stopped by the lock on the other side.
Cersei huffs in frustration and anger, pulling her hand up to knock- though, more like pound- on the door. It's ridiculous to her. She is a queen- the Queen- she demanded respect and by the gods she will get it one way or another.
As soon as she pounded on the door, which she notes has deep intricate engravings of wolves, depictions of snow and ice by the looks of it, and a shooting star above it all, the owner of the lute inside stops strumming the cords as Cersei hears the quiet sound of the bed creaking. And within the next moment, the bolt of the door unlocks and Cersei harshly pushes it open, surprising Benget, although not much as he chuckles at the fuming Cersei Lannister.
"Well, come right in then, Your Grace."
He remarks charismatically as he shuts the door, turning around to see the Queen almost standing on her toes up in his face, her face almost as red as Robert's when drunk with fury and wine as the Lioness glares dangerously at the Violet Wolf.
"I do not presume to know who you think you are, but my family and I are guests of your family and I am the Queen! I will not tolerate this disrespect!"
She nearly spits at him in anger as Ben scoffs, placing his hands on his hips as he looks down at the Lannister woman, the tiniest of smirks worn as amusement swims in his glowing violet eyes.
"Oh please, I have done nothing to you."
"Nothing, you say?
Cersei huffs, taking one more step as she jams a finger against the Stark boy's chest, making the amusement grow in his eyes as Cersei just wants to unleash hell apon him.
"You completely humiliated my brother in front of half the North and made my son out to be an utter failure in the eyes of his father!"
The Lioness roars as Benget just looks down at the Lannister calmly, amusement still swimming in his eyes. Sure, Cersei could have someone- though, it would probably take at least five someones, and him not have Dawn on hand- to kill him. And Cersei seems to understand that fact, already thinking ten soldiers or more to kill him.
"I beat that oathbreaker in a fair- I might even say, easy- fight. The Kingslayer was given-"
"You threw him into the mud like a child, even after you disarmed him!"
Cersei cuts him off as she glowers up at him, fury in her foresty green eyes that seem to boil in anger.
"Don't interrupt me again."
Cersei moves to open her mouth to speak but Benget beats her to it.
"I was saying that the Kingslayer was given the proper amount of respect as he was owed. And as for you son, I can't help you with the fact that his father hates him. Though, it makes perfect sense since he seems to take after his mother. And the King doesn't seem to really like you all that much."
Cersei steps back for just a moment, eyes wide with shock and mouth agape. Nobody has dared talk to the Queen like this before and to say she is shocked, but mostly furious, would be an understatement. She shouldn't be spoken to like this. She is the Queen. The bloody Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, daughter to the richest amd most powerful man in the entire Realm! Her son is to be the King of the Seven Kingdoms and she will not swallow any more insults from a boy entitled to nothing but a grey and cold wasteland.
"How dare you!"
She bellows out with fury in her voice and in her eyes, stepping so close to the Stark's face that her nose is nearly touching his. Cersei's breath is heavy and even that is filled with anger as the heavy breathing of the Wolf and the Lioness seemingly mix.
"What? Tell the truth?"
Benget spits back without missing a beat, looking into her green eyes without compromise as she continues with her heated glare. Cersei refuses to back down, though she is beginning to feel a little worried as she feels that she has been beaten at her own game by a young boy.
But then she sees his eyes look away before returning to her own, any form of anger gone as she realizes now just what the Stark is looking at her with. There is a lust in his almost glowing Dayne eyes as a sly smile creeps onto her smooth lips. Cersei has used her body before to get what she wanted. Though many had tried to resist the temptations of laying with the Queen herself, they all fell for the feeling one way or another. She always got what she wanted and tonight, she wants respect. And she will get it one way or another.
Without missing one more beat, Cersei Lannister smashes her lips against the Stark's, pressing her hands forcefully onto his chest, feeling the strong muscles underneath as she moans into the kiss.
A fire erupts in-between her legs, a fire that seems to burn hotter and hotter as the flames in the heart crackle, the heat in the room becoming unbearable. The Stark soon moves his attacks from her lips down south onto her neck, nipping and sucking at certain points as Cersei begins to start seeing blank, holding onto anything for support as Ben Stark continues pushing her back towards his bed, the end covered in a wolf's pelt.
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As Ben pushes Cersei onto his bed, the second woman to lie in his bed that day, she pulls loose the string holding up his half bun, his long and dark curly hair crashing down as the kisses get hotter and hotter as his hands begin to wander, trailing up and down the lush crimson silks that make her dress.
He's annoyed with her intricate braids in her hair, finding them a bit overbearing as he plucks the crown from her hair, tossing it in some random spot in her room as she smirks, seeing the fire in his glowing eyes as a buldge grows down in his pants.
Wanting to see a bit more of the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Ben dips Cersei back into his furs and sheets, his hands reaching up and quite literally ripping the seams of her crimson dress, tearing it open and revealing her breasts in their glory. And in this hot and heated moment between the young Stark and herself, Cersei cannot find the fucks to give beside the fucks she wants. Her hair is a mess, her dress in now torn and she wants more.
The Stark begins his assault on her breasts now, kissing and biting occasionally as Cersei runs her hands up his still clothed back, scratching and pulling to make him take it off.
Pulling back slightly, his lips barely missing the Queen's as he unties and pulls the strings to his already loosend dark grey leather jerkin, pulling it off as Cersei is already grabbing at his black blouse, pulling at the fabrics as she pulls at it with speedy need and lust. Cersei finally pulls the blouse from his body, quickly throwing it across the room as she stares at his chiseled chest.
Scars occasionally appear here and there on his body, some newer than others, some larger than others. Jaime's body isn't this good, Cersei thinks to herself as she begins to trace her hands over his solid abs for a moment.
Ben nearly growls, focusing Cersei once more as the lust and hunger comes back tenfold in her mind as she attacks his lips once more, tangling her fingers in his long curly hair, his lips attacking with the same flurry of fury as her. His hands once more begin their actions upon her breasts, feeling them and pinching, making Cersei bite down on her lip harshly to hold back a blissful yelp as Benget moves a hand down further to yank off the rest of her torn up dress. Cersei willingly loses herself in the heated moment, her dress down to her ankles as she kicks it off onto the floor, returning to Ben in a heated kisses as she lay in his bed in all of her glory.
"Neck up."
Ben mutters with a husky voice, Cersei's body shuttering as she feels one hand reach for her neck, pulling her head up as the other dips down past her stomach.
"Is this what you wanted all along? Huh?"
He bites down onto her neck, drawing a sharp moan from Cersei as she notes to wear something long to cover her neck tomorrow.
"Come to my chambers all by yourself as your husband is off drinking with Northern women."
The fact that they are really doing this is a funny thing in it itself. Oh, if Robert had found them now, Cersei and him would probably be dead. The thrill of the chance of being caught with such a young stud like Ben just makes Cersei hot and bothered as his skillful fingers graze down to her slick folds.
"Don't-"
She breathes sharply as he nips her neck once more, slipping a single finger into her as she pants heavily, a line of sweat covering herself already.
"Don't talk about the old boar while-"
"I don't remember giving you permission to make any demands of me."
His voice is commanding and powerful, dominant and dangerous, pure lust in his dilated purple eyes as Cersei, the usually most composed and confident person in the room, turns into a puddle underneath the Stark. A part of her hates it. Hates it with a fiery passion. But something about being fucked mercilessly by the Northener above her in her southern regions just makes her want to give in to the demands of the Stark with full willingness.
But Cersei would not beg for anything.
"I came here to-"
"What? Get fucked because the old boar can't do it well enough?"
"I told you to not say-"
"I don't care what you say."
His hand around her throat squeezes a bit harder as his finger continues to work a fast pace in the South, another finger joining it as Cersei digs her claws into Ben's back.
"Fuck- fuck you!"
"The only one fucked here is you, Your Grace."
"I could have either one of your heads for mocking me like this."
She threatens angrily as Ben only smirks, watching as the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms is coming apart underneath him as he works aj even faster pace, Cersei panting so heavily as sweat lines her brow and breast.
"Oh, I'm sure you could. But I'm thinking you probably want the good one."
That remark, no matter how corny it may have sounded, gets to Cersei as she feels herself begin to erupt in the south. But just as she nearly reaches that peak, Ben stops his actions, removing his fingers as she pants in exhaustion and fuming anger and frustration.
He pulls back, looking over his work with a grin as the Queen pants in near exhaustion, sweat mixing with her wetness down south, both leaking onto his sheets as Cersei's still ever dangerous eyes glare at him.
"Seven Hells! Are you going to leave your Queen-"
"Aye, you may be the Queen. But you, Cersei Lannister, are just queen of somewhere very far away. A Lioness who had wandered all alone into the wolf's den."
Cersei's eyes drift down Benget's chest down to his black trousers, seeing a solid buldge as growing pent-up frustration and much needed release makes her nearly want to beg for the Stark to have his way.
"You won't..you won't make me beg for it."
"No?"
The Stark questions as the look of desire seems to fade slightly in his eyes as he shrugs his shoulders, frowning as he moves to get up.
"Well, I figured you wanted to considering you started things. I suppose I'll go and get your husband to finish what I started.."
"No! Don't you dare leave this fucking room!"
She roars at him, the sound of the feast down in the Great Hall masking her shout of need as her fingers scratch at his chiseled chest, grabbing onto him and pulling him back.
"Don't leave.."
Her words are desperate and quiet, shame and embarrassment worn on her face as Ben only smirks with a smooth smirk of a slick fox.
"Beg."
Cersei narrows her eyes, seeing the challenging and fully serious look in Ben's eyes. She feels pathetic and weak. She went into this thinking she could rock the young man's world, get what she wanted, and leave him wanting her forever. But it seems the Stark has turned it around on Cersei. His hand is still wrapped around her throat, a light squeeze on it as she pants heavily.
She feels weak and pathetic and she can't help but finding it to be hot. Cersei hates it, but shamefully admits to herself she loves the dominate Stark that is literally making her go against everything she stands for. Self-preservation, grandeur, royalty, power... all of that is out the window and into the winter winds as she gazes into Benget Stark's glowing violet eyes.
"Please.."
"Please, what?"
"Fucking damn it.."
Cersei bites her lip as she holds her almost blurry focus onto his crotch, seeing just how hard he is as she bites her lip hard.
"Fuck me. Come on, just..fuck me!"
Benget smirks victoriously as he smashes his lips onto Cersei's once more, loosening his grip on her neck slightly as he lowers his trousers a little with the other. Cersei nearly gawks at it as she swallows a bit nervously. The only thing she can really even think of is; Fuck...Huge..
Without missing one more beat, Cersei feels Ben lower himself down, pressing against her hot and wet core, making her suck in a sharp breath, scrunching her eyes shut as her hands reach out, gripping the Stark's furs and sheets, nearly holding her breath in anticipation as...
Nothing? Wha..
Cersei opens her eyes, seeing Benget tuck himself away back into his trousers, a sly smirk on his face as he stands up from his bed, leaving her in absolute confusion.
"What are you..what are you doing?"
"I'm getting my clothes back on, as you can see."
"But- but why? What are-"
Ben just chuckles as Cersei's utter confusion as he slips on his thicker black blouse over his head, grabbing his boots and throwing them on as the smile on his amused face refuses to waver.
"Look, I'm sure it would be lovely to lay with a Lioness such as yourself-"
He buckles on his sword belt around his waist, Dawn resting loosely as he snatches his gloves on the table before moving closer to the door.
"-but I would find even more amusement and pleasure to see how you- the Queen- can explain to your husband and all of his bannermen, the Northmen, and your whole family why you are leaving my chambers with your hair an utter mess, your dress torn to shit."
Benget bends over to the floor, taking Cersei's torn crimson dress and the golden crown lying on the ground, tossing them onto the bed as she lay in confusion, soaking wet and in need.
"Enjoy the rest of your evening, Your Grace."
Cersei wants to fight this. She wants to stand up onto her probably shakey legs and smack the shit out of Ben for leaving her hot and bothered. But the Lannister woman can only watch as Benget smirks, opening the door to his room before stepping out and shutting it.
"Yes, now the rains weep o'er her halls
And not a soul to hear!"
꧁~~~Jon Stark~~~꧂
꧁Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! His sword clashes with the training dumby filled with straw as his warm breath shows in the cold night air. As the feast inside the Great Keep still rages on, Jon remains outside in the yard, hacking away at the training dumby as he always has at feast. Only one a few occasions does he actually attend feasts of balls unless he has to. They are not really his thing.
Most times, if Jon is attending a feast or ball, then he is sitting in the back of the Great Hall with the squires, the apprentices, and the lower class boys in the hierarchy with Ben. To both twins, it was far better sitting with their company rather than anyone else. Ben one time had brought up Dornish Red from when he had been in Dorne. Their Lord Father, especially on occasions such as tonight, would permit his children each one cup of wine and no more. But down there, Ben and Jon could drink as much as their bellies could fill and no one would be none the wiser.
But his brother had retired early tonight, so Jon would not be attending the feast very long either.
The training sword he uses is steel worn down so that you could not even cut bread with it. It is made to be blunt, to hit people with and not to cut. As he hacks away at the dumby, his ears catch the sound of a whistler, his eyes lighting up slightly as he recognizes the owner of said whistle.
Turning around, holding his training sword at his side, Jon spots Benget approaching him, his thick and warm black blouse worn a little loosely as does his sword. A skin of presumably wine is in his hand as he waves it at Jon with a smile.
"What are you whistling this time?"
He asks as Ben tosses him the skin of wine, stopping his tune as he leans against the post as Jon takes a large gulp of the summerwine.
"Just a new song I've been working on."
"Any good?"
"Duh. Of course. It's going to be good when you hear it."
Benget remarks as Jon hands the skin of wine back to his twin, a smile worn on his face as Benget smirks, knowing that Jon completely missed what he has implied. Jon smiles, leaning his training sword against the post as he sits up on the railing of the post next to Ben, already reaching out for more wine.
"How much have you had to drink?"
"Only a little inside."
"Mhm."
Ben says with a raised brow as Jon grins a little, still taking the skin once more, drinking heavily from it as the two brothers just sit there in the cold, sharing a drink with one another.
A soft coo calls out from behind them, making Jon and Ben glance into the trainingyard as two figures on four legs approach, making both of them smile.
"What are you doing out of the kennels?"
Jon asks with a smile as his direwolf, Ghost, approaches him, his red eyes reflecting torchlight from the walls. The other direwolf, Benget's wolf, seems to entirely disappear into the darkness of night. The only telltale sign that their is something living in the darkness his it's glowing violet eyes that are just about the same as Ben's eyes.
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"Frost, come here, boy."
Ben leans over a little, Frost approaching him, sniffing at his gloved hand with silent joy. Both direwolves are quiet. While the others seem to howl all the time, like Shaggydog and Summer, Ghost and Frost seem to be more often than not, silent as a crypt. Though they are completely different color, one can tell they are practically one in the same as they are practically identical in their attitudes.
"Which one do you think got the lock off of the kennel this time?"
"My money is on Frost. Ghost seems to follow after him, so I think of the two of them cause any mischief, it's Frost that suggested it."
"Wow, really? That almost sounds like someone I know."
Jon remarks as Ben turns to his brother, feigning offense as he scoffs, a smirk worn on his lips that Jon notices look slightly swollen as if someone had been kissing him. But he doesn't try to push that subject.
"You're such an arseling, Jon."
"I wonder who I learned it from?"
Ben scoffs once more, smacking Jon on his arm as their direwolves lay down next to one another at the bottom of the railing. Jon rubs his hands together, a slight chill running through them as Benget notices.
"Are you cold?"
"No."
"Then what are you rubbing your hands like that for? You nervous? Oh! Is it a girl you're nervous about?"
"What- no! No, of course not!"
"I know it's not, Arseling. Your hands are cold."
Ben takes off his black leather gloves, holding them out to Jon as Jon just looks annoyed.
"Take them."
"I said I was not-"
"For the memory of the mother that bore us, I will shove these gloves so far down your throat you'll be shitting them out seconds later if you don't take them now."
Benget remarks, still holding out his warmed up gloves as Jon reluctantly takes them, putting them on and instantly feeling warmer. Ben had always done stuff like this for him and he recons that he will probably keep on doing these gestures until the day he dies.
"Are these two of the direwolves I've heard so much of?"
A familiar voice calls out after the sound of hoofbeats and a horse's huffing breath. Jon and Ben turn to the rider, smiles brought to both of their faces as Jon jumps off from his seat on the wooden railing, making his way towards the man in black.
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"Uncle Benjen!"
The brother of Lord Eddard Stark climbs down from his horse, arms open wide as Jon quickly hugs his only Uncle.
"Oh, you've got bigger!"
Their uncle separates from him, looking to Ben as the other twin approaches, embracing his uncle as Jon did with a warms smile.
"It's good to see you, Uncle."
"And you as well. Rode all day. Didn't want to leave you two alone with the Lannisters."
"They're more entertaining than you might think."
Benget remarks to his Uncle as Jon and him smile.
"Why aren't you two at the feast?"
"You know me, Uncle. Feasts were never my thing. And my brother here kicked the Kingslayer's ass in a duel and said he was tired."
Uncle Benjen raises a brow to his oldest nephew, an amused smile in his Stark grey-blue eyes as Benget shrugs with the same smile.
"I also beat Barristan Selmy as well."
"Wish I could've seen that."
Benjen pats both brothers on their shoulders, a warm smile on his face.
"You boys have grown into fine young men. Finer men than me and Ned were at your age."
"Oh, I doubt that."
Benget remarks, poking at Jon who swats Ben's hand away with amusement.
"We could always use talent like yours up on the Wall. You'd always be welcomed."
"So take me with you when you go back."
Jon says excitedly, making Benget slowly lose the smile on his face, worry now coming back, etched into his mind. He had always known that Jon had longed to be a Brother of the Night's Watch. When the two had shared a room back when they were younger, they used to talk about going to the Wall together. But as they grew up, Ben had realized what exactly the Wall and the Night's Watch is. What it really is. Jon, though he loves him to death, knows nothing of what it is truly like.
And the fact that Jon wants to run head first into it like he's charging alone intona cavalry charge worries him. Benjen seems to notice the look on Ben's face as he nods, holding his lips together as he shrugs.
"Jon.."
"Father will let me if you ask him. I know he will."
Benget looks to his uncle, seeing the understanding look on his face. Their uncle had come down from Castle Black so many times throughout the years of the Stark Twins growing up. Trained them a bit, telling them stories about the Wall and the Rangers. Both brothers had listened. But only one could understand then gritty part behind the tales.
"The Wall isn't going anywhere, Jon. You're still young. Sixteen. You still have time to think about it."
"I'm ready. I'm ready to swear your vows."
"In any case..think about it some more."
Jon nods, seeming a bit deterred and disappointed as Uncle Benjen pats his shoulder once more, smiling.
"The Night's Watch has held firm for 8,000 years. It'll be there still if you decide to join it."
Uncle Benjen says, turning to head inside as Benget glances at his younger twin, an encouraging smile that takes a lot of effort to wear worn on his face.
"I'm going back inside. The rest of that wine is yours."
He pats his chest, turning to follow behind his Uncle, turning back around and walking backwards for a moment as Benget grins at Jon.
"Take care of Frost for me, yeah?"
"You forgot to feed him last week, and I had to do it."
"I didn't forget, I just knew you would do it for me like I good little brother!"
"Fuck off."
Jon Stark says in good humor as his brother leaves him in the trainingyard with the two direwolves of opposite colors yet same being.
꧁~~~Benget Stark~~~꧂
꧁"I wish he would understand sometimes, Uncle."
Benget says as he walks side by side with his Uncle Benjen through the halls of the Great Keep on the way to the still raging feast.
"Your brother is young and ambitious. You know being in Winterfell for the rest of his life is something you or him doesn't want."
"He says he's ready to swear your vows. "I shall where no crowns or win no glory. I shall live and die at my post," but he doesn't understand them... He doesn't understand the life he would be giving up."
Benget stops in the hall, taking his uncle's arm to stop him as the older Stark looks down at his nephew with solemn eyes.
"It's something he's wanted all of his life."
"It seems to me like its something you and Father wanted all of your lives."
Benget stands firm as Benjen sighs heavily, looking down the hall for a long moment. The music still flows from the Great Hall, roaring laughter and the sound of someone or several someones crashing into a table calling out.
"You're right, Ben. Gods, it still funny that he named you after me."
Benjen smiles proudly.
"You are a better man than Ned or I. I thank the gods for you and Jon being such good boys every day I can think of it."
Benget smiles a little, pride filling his heart a little as Benjen pats his shoulder.
"Nothing has to be decided tonight. We can talk about Jon and the watch tomorrow."
Benget nods slightly, his uncle turning to walk away to rescue his father from his guests. Uncle Benjen had said that nothing had to he decided that night. But Benget had a feeling he was right. Jon decided to take the Black long ago when they were just boys stuck sharing a room as they were growing up.
꧁~~~A/N~~~꧂
Don't know if you know this already, but Benget Stark is a fucking player. Cockblocking Cersei Lannister of all people. This chapter has been one of my favorites to write thus far in this book. Massive credit to TheGrimmReader_ for his suggestions on what to do and say in this story so far! Thank you a lot.
(6260 words!!!)
And if you folks are enjoying the story so far and are curious to find out more about Benget Stark, feel free to ask me anything in the comments here, my message board, or you can even message me directly with questions and comments!
Thank you all so much for reading!!!!