Winterfell hadn't changed since Jon had left. It was still a mighty citadel built of grey granite that exuded the great power wielded by House Stark. Truly, there might be prettier castles in the south, but Jon would still choose Winterfell over all others. There was something about the castle that was….powerful. Perhaps it was the ancient history of House Stark, but none could not say that Winterfell was not the heart of the North.
Jon thought about how many times he had dreamed of leaving the walls of Winterfell behind to become a man of the Night's Watch. Looking out at his old home once more, he couldn't believe that he ever wanted to leave. The Winterfell was his home, and he was disappointed with himself that it had taken him so long to realize such.
Jon looked down at Ghost. "We're home, boy," he said quietly.
Sam reigned in his horse beside his friend. His eyes looked over the northern stronghold, quietly excited to be spending a night at the ancient home of the Starks. The large boy had always loved history, and northern history had always intrigued Samwell, especially as a young, wide-eyed boy.
Both boys had changed their appearances when they stopped at Last Hearth. Jon now wore chainmail under dark plaited leather. He had also put his dark curls up in a knot behind his head instead of letting them hang free.
Sam had been given new clothes as well. Dull brown and grey doublet and pants, along with a solid pair of boots. He had also been given a proper northern cloak. The maester of Last Hearth had promised to return his Watch clothes to Castle Black on the next wagon heading that way.
"Impressive," Sam said quietly, not sure what else to say. Even calling Winterfell 'impressive' seemed inadequate. There was a power, an aura that surrounded the place that was palpable even from where Jon and Sam were.
Jon smiled. "Aye, it is. Just wait till you see the library and meet Maester Luwin." he joked, clapping his spurs into the horse's flanks, setting off towards the castle.
The two young men easily made their way through Winter town, the little village that was huddled in the shadow of the mighty fortress. It had always been a quiet place, even more so now that many of the men from the village were in the south with Robb. The few who remained nodded to Jon, remembering him.
At the gate, two men garbed in the plaited leather armor with steel helms crossed their pikes as Jon and Sam approached, blocking their way. One of the men stepped forward. He was a large man with a bushy beard. A typical northman by every measure.
"Halt. State your business." he declared.
Jon leaned forward in his saddle so that the man could see him better. "Martin." he greeted respectfully.
The man named Martin stepped forward a little more, his eyes narrowing as he tried to place the man in front of him. He looked a little like Lord Stark and had an albino wolf at his side. He then made the connection.
"Jon?" He asked. "Jon Snow?"
Jon smiled brightly. "Aye, it's me," he said happily. "How are you, Martin?"
Martin extended a hand in greeting, which Jon easily took. "Gods lad, you look a little different since I've last seen you. I thought you left for the Wall?"
Jon shook his head, becoming serious again. "I changed my mind before I took the Black," he explained. "I mean to join my brother in the south and help save my father."
Martin grinned fiercely. "Good on you, boy. Lord Robb could do with your sword at his side. Especially considering who he's fighting."
Jon raised an eyebrow, the smile melting off his face like snow in the sun. "Facing? What do you mean?"
"Tywin Lannister and the Kingslayer have invaded the Riverlands," the other man answered. "Last we heard, Ser Jaime was besieging Riverrun."
Jon shared a glance with Sam, who looked both curious and fearful. That's all Jon needed to know that the news wasn't good for Robb. Castle Black didn't get much information from the south, and the pair hadn't stayed anywhere long enough to gather more information. It was news to them both that Robb was actually going to war.
"Who's in charge of Winterfell?" Jon asked, turning back to the guards.
"Lord Bran," Martin answered. "Lady Stark and Ser Rodrik went south some time ago, but never returned. Word is, she went to the Capitol, then to the Vale, before joining Lord Robb at Moat Cailin."
Jon held back a sigh of relief. When he had left the Wall, he had been dreading having to deal with Lady Stark when they met once again. Although the Lady of Winterfell was not abusive to the young man, she had made it clear what she thought of him and his birth. As Sansa had grown older, she had followed in her mother's footsteps and began treating Jon with cold politeness. Only Robb and Arya ever showed Jon any real love. Bran was just beginning to become aware of the tension between his mother and Jon, and Rickon was blissfully unaware of it all.
"And where is my brother now?" Jon asked.
"He's in the great hall with Maester Luwin." the other man answered.
Jon nodded to him. "Thank you."
The two guardsmen uncrossed their pikes and allowed the two riders to enter Winterfell, standing at attention again.
In the courtyard, Jon and Sam left their horses under the care of Hullen, the horse master. After that, the two men shouldered their saddlebags and Jon led the way towards the great hall, receiving calls of welcome from his old friends. Even though he was a bastard, Jon was still well-liked throughout the castle. He was kind and respectful to others, no matter who they were. The guards respected him for his skill with a blade and his humble demeanor.
"It's a lot….bigger than I imagined." Sam said quietly. "I've been to Highgarden and Oldtown, but I've never seen anything like this."
Jon grinned, the feeling of home overwhelming him. "Just you wait, my friend. Winterfell has more secrets than you can learn in a night," he explained, pointing towards a gate that led into a forested area. "There's the Godswood, where the Heart Tree is planted."
"A Heart Tree?" Sam said. "Truly?"
Jon nodded. "Aye." he laughed. "It was one of my father's favorite places. You may not believe in the Old Gods, but when you're in front of that tree, you understand why they were worshipped."
Sam continued to look around while Jon walked confidently towards the hall, pushing open the doors as he entered. Inside, a young boy with auburn hair and blue eyes sat beside an old man, who had grey eyes and receding grey hair. The boy was dressed in a leather doublet while the older man wore a heavy grey robe with massive sleeves and a heavy chain around his neck.
Bran looked up when he heard the door open, his eyes lighting up when he saw Jon. A massive smile spread across his face. Jon couldn't help but grin as well, his brother's infectious smile spreading to him as well.
He dropped his saddlebags on a nearby bench and strode towards his brother, practically running till he reached him.
"Bran," he said happily, leaning over the table to bring his head to the young boy's, wrapping an arm around his neck. It was a slightly emotional moment for Jon, as the last time he had seen his little brother, he had been in a coma and Jon had been unable to properly say goodbye.
Not to mention that Lady Stark was glaring at him like he was the one who had placed Bran in his unconscious state.
"I'm so happy you're awake," he said, ruffling the boy's auburn curls.
At their feet, Ghost and Summer nipped and played with each other. The two littermates were just as excited as their masters were to be with each other again.
Bran grinned. "Jon!" He cried. "Robb said that you had gone to the Wall."
Jon nodded, stepping back. "Aye, I was. But I left the Watch to help Robb save father."
Maester Luwin nodded. "Very noble of you Jon." he complimented.
Jon clasped arms with the old maester. "It's good to see you again Maester," he said kindly. He gestured to Sam behind him. "This is my friend Samwell. Lord Tarly's son."
The maester smiled kindly at the large boy. "Welcome, Lord Samwell. I am sure this is a little different than Horn Hill."
Sam smiled shyly. "Winterfell is amazing, maester." he praised. "I've never seen anything like it." he turned to Bran, bowing formally. "Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Bran. Jon has always spoken well of his family."
"Your father is Lord Tarly? The man who beat Robert Baratheon?" Bran asked with child-like curiosity.
Sam nodded, his face a mask. "That is correct, my lord, Lord Randyll is my father."
While Sam and Bran talked, Jon leaned over to speak with Luwin privately.
"How are his legs?" Jon asked. When he had last seen his little brother, the maester had said that he would never walk again. During his time at the Wall, Jon had prayed that somehow his brother managed to walk again.
But Maester Luwin shattered those hopes with a shake of his head. "I'm afraid Lord Bran will never walk again," he said quietly. The old maester sounded sympathetic, but not sad. He was a man of healing and knew that there were some things that couldn't be fixed.
"It's alright Jon," Bran said, leaning over to join the conversation. "I can still move."
"Oh?" Jon asked.
Maester Luwin stood up, beckoning someone over. It was Hodor, the massive simpleton who worked in the stables. He was well over seven feet tall, with thick brown hair and beard. But, for his massive size, he was a gentle giant. A simpleton really.
"Hodor here has been acting as Lord Bran's main means of transportation." Maester Luwin explained, pointing out the harness that the big man wore. "He is able to carry the lordling on his back."
"The Imp also made me a chair," Bran added, interrupting the maester.
"He is referring to Lord Tyrion, of course." Luwin corrected, giving Bran a look.
Jon raised an eyebrow. "Tyrion? What kind of chair?"
Luwin motioned to Hodor, who moved forward and grabbed the back of Bran's chair, pushing him around the table and towards Jon. The chair looked like a typical high-backed chair, albeit with more padding. Bran's legs were strapped down and covered with furs. Two wheels stood on either side of the chair, while two hand grips shot out from the back of the chair so that someone could hold and push the chair.
When put together, Jon wondered how others hadn't thought of the ingenious creation before.
"Bran, that's amazing," he said happily.
"He also made me a saddle!" Bran said excitedly.
"Lord Tyrion was very generous," Luwin added. "His designs are quite ingenious."
"Aye, he is that," Jon said, nodding in agreement. "Maester, would you mind showing Sam the library? I would like to speak with my brother privately."
Luwin nodded, bowing slightly before motioned for the large boy to follow him. "Come, Lord Sam. The library is this way."
Sam glanced at Jon who simply nodded. "I'll take care of our bags Sam. I'll only be a moment."
Sam nodded and followed the elderly maester, the two quickly striking up a conversation. They were both people who loved to learn, and Jon had no doubt that he would hear quite a lot of praise about his friend from the maester.
"Is everything alright Jon?" Bran asked.
Jon nodded, crouching down to look Bran in the eye. "Aye, everything is fine. I was just curious….why did Lady Stark go south with Robb?"
Bran pouted. "The raven from mother said that she wanted to see her father again. She felt confident that Maester Luwin would be enough to help me."
Jon sighed and sat down on the floor in front of Bran, sighing. "How has Rickon taken it?"
Bran shook his head. "Not good. Osha and Shaggydog keep him company, but he's confused, Jon. He doesn't know why everyone keeps leaving."
Jon raised an eyebrow. "Osha?" He asked. He knew most people in Winterfell, but he had never heard of this person. Perhaps she was a new servant who Rickon had taken a liking to. He once mistook Sansa for Lady Stark.
"She's a wilding who Robb and Theon found in the Godswood. She and her companions tried to capture me, but Robb and Theon defeated them. Osha was the only one they spared. She's now a servant." Bran explained quickly.
Jon raised an eyebrow. "Do you think that's wise?" He asked. He had never encountered a wilding before, but the stories did not paint them in a particularly good light. They were savages.
The young boy nodded. "She's a good person, Jon, truly," he said. "She calls me and Rickon her 'Little Wolves'. She protects us."
Jon wasn't convinced, but Bran seemed to be. "Alright." he conceded. "And how have you been?"
Bran shrugged sadly. "Fine. Maester Luwin is helping me a lot. Not like I can do much else." he said bitterly, tears threatening to appear.
Jon stood up and placed a hand around his brother, pulling him in. "everything will be alright Bran." he promised. "We'll save Father and bring him back and we'll be a family again."
"Will you go back to the Wall?" Bran asked fearfully.
Jon shook his head, a small smile on his face. "No," he answered, getting back on his feet and putting his hands on his brother's shoulders. "Not while my family needs me."
"Thank you, Jon," Bran said as the brothers embraced.