Chapter 12 Chapter Eleven Jon

Jon climbed the stairs slowly, knowing that this was the last time he would climb them, but trying to put the thought away.Bai Ling followed beside him silently, it was snowing outside, and snowflakes flew into the city gate.The square was noisy and bustling with people, but inside the thick stone walls, it was still warm and quiet, so quiet that Jon couldn't stand it. When he reached the door, he stood a long time alone, full of fear.Ghost rubbed his nose against his hand, and he found courage, chest out, and walked into the room. Lady Stark sat on the edge of the bed.For the last two weeks, she had been watching over Bran almost night and day.She had food delivered to her room, and a potty, and a small hard bed, but people said she never closed her eyes.She fed Bran herself a drink of honey, boiling water, and herbs.She never left the room, so Jon kept his distance.

But he couldn't wait any longer. For a while he stood on the porch, not daring to make a sound or approach.The windows were thrown wide open, and Bai Ling raised his head when he heard the howling of a lone wolf downstairs. Madam Stark turned her head and didn't recognize him at first. After a long time, she blinked and asked, "What are you doing here?" Her tone was flat and extremely lifeless. "I've come to see Bran," Jon replied, "to say goodbye to him." She still had no expression on her face, and her originally thick maroon hair was tangled in a dejected mess, looking as if she had aged twenty years overnight. "You have achieved your goal, let's go."

He wanted to run, but knowing that he might never see Bran again, he took an uneasy step toward the house instead. "Please let me see him." A cold light flashed in her eyes. "I tell you to go away," she said coldly, "you are not welcome." In the past, her words would have made him run away in fright, tears streaming down his face in shame, but now, it only made him burn with anger.He is about to be sworn into the Black Legion of the Night's Watch, when he faces dangers far more terrifying than Catelyn Tully Stark. "Anyway, I'm his brother," he said.

"Do you want me to call the guard?" "Scream," Jon said angrily, "but you can't stop me from seeing him." With that, he crossed the room to the other side of the bed, looking down at Bran. She was holding Bran's hand, but that hand looked more like a claw than a hand.The patient in front of him was no longer the Bran in Jon's memory. He was haggard and skinny, with his feet curled up in a disgusting shape under the blanket.His eyes were deep-set, like two black holes, opened wide, but seemed dazed.He looked like a weak and lonely leaf, and a strong wind was enough to blow him away.

But under that fragmented skeleton, his chest was rising and falling rhythmically with light, shallow and rapid breathing. "Bran," he said, "forgive me for not coming to see you until now, because I was terrified." He felt tears streaming down his cheeks, but he didn't care anymore. "Bran, please don't die, Robb, my sister and I are waiting for you to wake up..." Mrs. Stark watched coldly from the sidelines. Jon saw that she did not summon the guards, and guessed that she should have acquiesced.The direwolf howled again from outside the window, and Bran hadn't been able to find a proper name for the little wolf.

"I have to go," said Jon. "Uncle Benjen is still waiting, and we're off to the north at once. We need to get going before the snow falls." He remembered how eager Bran was to go far. , He was even more heartbroken at the thought of leaving his injured brother here.Jon wiped away tears and leaned over to kiss his brother on the lips. "I just wish he could stay with me," Madam Stark said softly. Jon looked at her warily, only to find that she was not looking at him at all. She seemed to be talking to him, but she was actually absent-minded, as if no one was there.

"I prayed day and night," she said dully, "that he was my darling. I prayed seven times in the sept to the seven faces of the gods, that Ned would change his mind and let Bran stay with me. Perhaps It was the gods who granted my wish." Jon didn't know what to say. "It's not your fault." After a moment of cramped silence, he managed to say something. Her eyes found him, eyes full of hatred. "There's no need for you motherless bastard to pity me." Jon lowered his eyes. She was holding one of Bran's hands. He took the other and held it in his hand, feeling as weak as a bird's bone. "Farewell," he said.

When he came to the door, she called to him. "Jon," she said.That's how he should go on, but she never called him by his first name.So he turned and found her staring at his face, as if for the first time in his life. "What?" he asked. "You should be the one lying here today." She told him.Then she turned to Bran, weeping and twitching violently all over her body.Jon had never seen her shed a tear before. The way back to the square downstairs is very long. Outside, there were noises of carriages and horses everywhere, and it was a mess.With a loud shout, the goods were loaded onto the wagons, the horses were harnessed and stirrups, and led into the stables.There was fine snow in the air, and everyone was anxious to finish the business at hand before hiding in the house.

Robb was at the center of the vortex, issuing orders with aplomb.These days, he seems to have matured a lot suddenly, as if Bran's accident and his mother's near collapse forced him to be strong.Gray Wind was by his side. "Uncle Benjen is looking for you," he told Jon. "He was going to start an hour ago." "I know," Jon replied, "I'll be right there." He looked around him at the hustle and bustle. "I didn't expect parting to be so difficult." "Isn't it," said Robb.The snowflakes on his hair were gradually melting due to body temperature. "Have you seen him?"

Jon nodded, not daring to speak, not knowing what he would say. "He won't die," said Robb. "I know he won't." "You Starks are hard on life indeed," Jon agreed.His voice was weak, and what happened just now had drained every ounce of his strength. Robb immediately sensed that something was wrong. "My mother she..." "She...was kind to me," Jon told him. Robb breathed a sigh of relief. "That's good," he grinned, "next time we meet, you'll be dressed in black." Jon squeezed out a smile: "Black suits me well. In your opinion, how long will it be before we meet again?"

"Not for long," Robb promised.He pulled Jon closer and hugged him tightly. "Snow, take care." Jon also hugged each other tightly excitedly: "Stark, you too, take good care of Bran." "I will." The two let go of each other and looked at each other awkwardly. "Uncle Bunyan said that if I saw you, I'd tell you to look for him at the stable," said Robb at last. "I have to say goodbye to one more person," Jon told him. "I didn't see you then," said Robb.Jon turned away, leaving Robb standing alone in the snow, surrounded by wagons and pups and horses.The square was not far from the arsenal, and Jon picked up his package and went to the main castle via the sealed bridge. Arya was packing in her room, packing things into a polished hardwood case taller than her.Nymeria was there to help, and Arya had only to point, and the little wolf would run across the room, pick up the silk she asked for, and give it to his little master obediently, and as soon as she smelled Ghost, He sat down on his hind feet and let out a low, intimate bark. Arya glanced back, saw Jon, and jumped up for joy.She stretched out her thin arms and wrapped them tightly around his neck. "I'm afraid you've gone," she said breathlessly, "and they won't let me go down to say good-bye." "What's wrong with you again?" Jon asked with interest. Arya let him go, then made a grimace and said, "It's nothing, I packed all my things," she pointed to the huge box that wasn't even a third full, and the scattered clothes "But Septa Mordane said I didn't fold my clothes nicely, so I had to do it all over again. And she said a decent Southern lady would never throw clothes like rags in a box." "Little sister, you throw your clothes into the box like rags?" "Why, these clothes are going to be a mess sooner or later anyway," she said. "Who cares if they're folded?" "Septa Mordane," Jon told her, "and I don't think she likes Nymeria helping like this." The little she-wolf looked at him quietly with her deep golden eyes. "It doesn't matter, I have something for you to bring, and it must be well hidden." Her face suddenly glowed. "Is it a gift for me?" "That's right. Go and close the door." Arya looked excitedly and nervously at the corridor beyond the door. "Nymeria, stay here." She left the pup outside to sound the alarm, and closed the door.By this time Jon had unwrapped the rags and handed them to her. She opened her eyes wide.Like his eyes, they were dark-colored pupils. "It's a sword!" she said in a small voice, and her breathing came quickly. The scabbard was made of soft gray leather, and Jon drew it slowly so that she could take a closer look at the dark blue metallic gleam of the blade. "This is no toy," he told her. "Be careful not to hurt yourself. This sword is sharp enough to shave." "Girls don't have to shave," Arya said. "Maybe girls should shave. Have you seen the nun's legs?" She giggled at him. "Look, you are good or bad." "Aren't you the same?" said Jon. "I asked Mikken to make this sword especially for the assassins of Pentos and Myr and the other Free Cities. It cannot decapitate a man, But as long as you move fast enough, you can easily stab the enemy full of holes." "I'm fast." Elijah said. "You have to practice every day from now on," he put the sword into her palm, instructed her how to hold it, and took a step back. "How does it feel, is it going well?" "I think it's pretty good," Arya replied. "Lesson one," Jon said gravely, "stab the enemy with the pointed end." Arya smacked his hand with the blunt end, and it hurt, and Jon couldn't help giggling like a fool. "I know which side to stab with," Arya said, and then a look of doubt clouded her face. "Septa Mordane will take the sword away." "If she didn't know you had the sword, she wouldn't have taken it away." "Then who do I practice with?" "You'll find your match," Jon assured her. "King's Landing is a veritable city, a thousand times the size of Winterfell. Before you find a practice partner, take a good look at how the others in the schoolyard are doing." Fight. Run more, ride more, get fit. And, anyway..." Arya knew what he was going to say next, and they both said in unison: "...absolutely...don't...tell...Sansa!" Jon rubbed her hair: "Little sister, I will miss you." Suddenly she looked like she was about to cry. "I wish you'd come with us." "Different paths may not lead to the same goal, who knows what will happen in the future?" He gradually became more cheerful and decided not to be depressed anymore. "I should go. If I keep Uncle Bunyan waiting like this, I'm afraid I'll have to poop every day during my first year on the Great Wall." Arya ran to him for one last hug. "Put down the sword first." He warned her with a smile.She threw the sword aside, blushing, and kissed him desperately. When he turned and walked towards the door, she had picked up the sword again and swung it tentatively. "I almost forgot," he said to her, "every good sword has its own name." "Like 'Ice'?" She looked at the sword in her hand, "Does this sword also have a name? Wow, tell me quickly." "Can't you guess?" Jon teased, "It's your favorite thing." Arya was confused at first, but then suddenly realized that her reactions were so quick.So the two said in unison again: "Needle!" In his memory, her laughter always warmed his heart during the long journey northward.