Riverrun was not what Jon had expected. It was a three sided castle built on what looked to be an island. It was not particularly big, at least not compared to Winterfell, but it had its own sort of charm. The walls had a reddish-yellow color to them, and Jon could not tell what stone had been used. Walking the battlements were men wearing scale mail armor and fish-crested helms.
Above the keep flew the banners of House Stark and House Tully side by side.
Jon and Sam pulled up just a short distance from the castle, knowing full well that their journey from the Wall to Robb was close to its end. Jon couldn't resist a smile from spreading across his face. His brother was close at hand, and he couldn't wait to see him again.
"This is it," Sam said quietly. For the past few days, the large lad had become increasingly quiet and it often took Jon several attempts to get his attention. The young warrior didn't know why his friend was so quiet, but all his attempts at finding out had come up short.
Jon nodded. "Aye, it is," he said. "I wonder how Robb will greet me?"
"You're his brother," Sam said with a shrug. "He will welcome you as such."
"It's been months since I've seen him Sam," Jon said. "Who knows what has happened in that time."
Sam gave his friend a reassuring smile. "Do you want to stand here and wonder all day or do you want to get it over with?"
Jon chuckled and kicked his heels into the flanks of his horse, cantering the remaining distance to the castle. As they got closer, Jon got a better look at the castle. It wasn't in fact, a natural island. Under the drawbridge was a massive man-made ditch that looked from a distance like a river.
Man in red and blue tabards manned either side of the drawbridge, spears and shields in hand.
He nodded to them as he got closer. "Hello…." he began before he was interrupted.
"Arrest him!" Someone demanded, their voice snapping with anger.
Jon looked up to see Lady Stark striding across the courtyard, an older looking man flanking her. The Lady of Winterfell had her finger pointed at Jon, her blue eyes blazing with fury. Jon slid out of his saddle, gesturing for Sam to do the same. He bowed easily.
"My lady," he greeted.
By now, Lady Catelyn was standing in front of him, and she was far scarier up close. As always, her appearance was pristine and perfect. Her dress was clean and pressed. Her hair was done up in a southern fashion with not a hair out of place. She looked like a proper lady of Westeros.
And a very angry one at that. Lady Stark rarely had the chance to yell at Jon, as Lord Stark had always been there to curb her anger. But Lord Stark wasn't present at the moment, and there was no one to prevent what was about to happen.
"You have no right to be here, bastard." she hissed. "You have abandoned your post at the Wall."
Jon shook his head. "I never took the Black…." he tried to explain before Lady Catelyn cut him off again.
"I will not stand here and listen to your lies," she snapped. "You are a deserter and I will make sure my son gives you the same fate all deserters deserve."
The blood drained from Jon's face. "You misunderstand my lady…." he tried again, but Lady Catelyn would not listen.
"Guards, seize him!" She ordered, stepping back so that the guards could get to Jon.
The Bastard of Winterfell sighed and unbuckled his weapons belt and handed it to Sam, who looked terrified by the sudden turn of events. Jon had explained to his friend his relationships with Lady Stark, but hearing about it was vastly different from seeing it up close and in the moment.
Jon tried to give Sam a reassuring smile of his own, but it fell well short of the mark.
"Take care of the other one too, Sam," he said before turning to Ghost, who had been watching the interaction with a worried look. "Stay with Sam."
The wolf whined, but did as he was told, moving closer to the large lad.
Two guards stepped up, each grabbing Jon by the arm, and lead him towards the dungeons. With Jon gone, Lady Catelyn turned her attention to Sam, her eyes still alight with fury. By the way she looked at Sam, it was like she was considering sending him to the dungeon too.
Thankfully, her reasonable side seemed to take over now that Jon was gone.
"Who are you?" She demanded.
"Sam….Samwell Tarly, my lady." Sam stuttered.
"Are you a deserter too?"
Sam shook his head quickly, the folds under his chin giggling with the motion. "No, my lady," he said fearfully.
Lady Catelyn sniffed, obviously not believing the large youth. She turned her back on Sam, addressing the man behind her. "Uncle, please have him detained in a room. I will inform my son of this later."
"Why should Lord Robb not be told now?" The man asked.
"He is too busy," Lady Stark said dismissively, "I will tell him later."
The man nodded, gazing at Sam. When Lady Stark was gone, he gestured for more guards to come forward.
"Take care of the horses," he ordered.
Sam moved towards Jon's saddle, accidentally bumping into a guard as he unstrapped the long parcel tied to it. He held it awkwardly in his hands along with Jon's weapon belt. He nodded apologetically to the older man.
"I'm sorry, ser, but he asked me to not let these out of my sight."
The man shrugged. It was obvious to him that Sam was no warrior and was no danger with the swords in his hands. Just by the way he awkwardly held the weapons told the old warrior all he needed to know.
"Fine," he grunted, gesturing for Sam to follow him. As they walked, the man glanced over his shoulder, frowning. "You said your name was Tarly?"
Sam nodded. "Yes."
"You're related to Randyll Tarly?"
"I'm Samwell, his firstborn," Sam answered. "I know I don't really look like him."
"You don't," the man said bluntly. "I take it the other lad was Jon Snow."
Sam nodded. "Ye….yes," he said.
"Robb told me he went to the Wall," the man continued. "Why is he here?"
Sam was sweating now. "Jon….we left before we took the Black," he explained. "He heard about Lord Stark's imprisonment and decided to come South to help his brother. He sent Robb a raven from Last Hearth."
"He never mentioned any letter," the man grumbled.
"I swear Jon sent it. I saw him." Sam said, practically pleading.
"Only my nephew can verify your statement lad," the man said. "I understand why Jon came south. Why did you?"
The old man stopped suddenly and turned to face Sam, his blue eyes boring into Sam's own, reaching his soul and trying to exact the truth from it.
"My father, he….he didn't believe that I was fit to be his heir. So he sent me to the Wall. Jon became my only friend. When he was leaving, I asked to go too. I would have died within a month without him." Sam's shoulders slumped sadly. "I'm not much of a fighter.
The man gazed at Sam, his face like iron. After a few moments, he nodded and opened the door behind him.
"No, I don't believe you are. I can't speak for you or Jon's fate, but I do not believe that you are not deserters," he said. "But your fate is not for me to say. It is in Lord Robb's hands to do as he sees fit."
Sam nodded slowly, entering the room. "May I know your name ser?"
"Brynden Tully."
"You're the Blackfish," Sam said immediately. The only knowledge his father ever tried to drill into his head was about battle and fighting. The Blackfish was one warrior of many that Randyll Tarly made sure Sam knew about.
Brynden nodded. "Aye, the same."
Sam glanced around the room. It was nice. Far better than a dungeon. He looked back at the aging knight. "Jon may be a bastard, but he's also Eddard Stark's son. I know what I say doesn't hold much water, but Jon is still part Stark. If you believe anything, please believe that Jon would never abandon his duty. The only reason Jon is here is because he hadn't yet taken the Black."
Ser Brynden frowned but nodded. "I will inform Lord Robb of that," he promised before closing the door, leaving Sam alone.
Line Break
Jon was roughly thrown into an empty cell, pain flaring in his shoulder as he landed on the rough flagstones. He grunted as he got back on his feet, glaring at the guards.
"I wasn't resisting," he growled.
The two men shared a look before shrugging, slamming the iron cell door shut as they left. Jon huffed and looked around at his surroundings. All he had was a piss bucket and a scattering of hay to lie on.
"The Bastard of Winterfell," someone mused from the cell across from Jon. "Odd seeing you here."
Jon turned to see a man appear from the shadows of the other cell. His once golden hair was dirty and matted down. He had the beginnings of a rough beard forming on the lower half of his handsome face, slowly covering his sharp jaw. But the smile and eyes were unmistakable.
The Kingslayer's appearance might have changed since the last time the two had met in Winterfell, but one thing definitely hadn't. The man still had that damned smirk on his face. Covered in dirt and filth, locked in a cell in the depths of Riverrun, he still had the nerve to act arrogant.
"Ser Jaime," Jon greeted coldly. "I see you've done well for yourself in the war. Are you accommodating well to cutting down real warriors instead of old men?"
Ser Jaime's eyes narrowed as he glared at Jon. "Careful boy," he growled. "I don't need a sword to kill you."
"I have more fight in me than an old mad man," Jon shot back.
"You never answered my question." Ser Jaime commented, changing the subject. "Why are you here? Last we talked, you were quite intent on freezing your balls off at the Wall."
"I had a change of heart," Jon said. "My father was wrongfully imprisoned by Joffrey."
"Ah, Ned Stark," Jaime drawled. "How dreadfully unfortunate for him. But in case you haven't heard, he was committing treason."
"My father is the most honorable man in all of Westeros," Jon snarled. "He would never commit treason."
Jaime shrugged. "Eh, who cares," he said, walking back to sit on his bed of hay, leaning against the wall as he continued to gaze at Jon. "We're in here. Who gives a shit what we think."
"I won't be for long," Jon said, trying to convince himself as well as the Kingslayer. When he arrived, he did not expect to confront Lady Stark. Even when he tried to explain himself, she wouldn't allow him. His only hope is that Sam would be able to explain for both of them.
"Is that right?" Ser Jaime asked sarcastically. "You really think Robb Stark will welcome you with open arms? What's going to stop him from treating you like a deserter?"
"Because I'm not!" Jon cried.
Jaime shrugged, closing his eyes as he rested his head against the wall behind him. "Can you prove that?" He asked.
Jon glared at the Kingslayer, gripping the bars of his cell. Numerous insults came to his mind, but none would truly hurt the man.
"Tyrion was wrong about you."
Jaime's eyes shot open as he glared at Jon. "Wrong?" He asked, his voice dangerously quiet.
Jon nodded, pressing himself against the cold iron. "He spoke so highly about you when he traveled with me to the Wall. How you tried to help him ride when you were boys. I was fine with you being an arrogant prick if it meant that you valued family. Now I know you know nothing of family."
Jaime growled. "You have no idea what I've done for my family, bastard," he snapped. "Do not lecture me about the importance of family. I actually know who my bloody mother is."
Then Jon did something that Jaime did not expect. He smiled. "I know who my mother is, Kingslayer. She died during Robert's Rebellion and was ten times braver than you could ever hope to be."
Ser Jaime didn't reply, just glaring at Jon, who returned the glare with equal ferocity.
"One day, you'll regret poking the Lion, Bastard," Ser Jaime said finally. "And I'll enjoy the moment I plunge my blade into your throat."
"Just make sure I'm facing you, I'd hate for you to get a bad reputation for killing defenseless bastards," Jon shot back immediately. "But who knows, perhaps you'll be on the other end of my blade as well. Wouldn't that be a way for the infamous Kingslayer to go out; killed by a bastard."
"Careful what you wish for boy," Ser Jaime growled. "I am not the only Lion still on the prowl. You better hope you stay down here. My father will crush Robb Stark, and then we'll see how you talk when your head is on the block."
Jon laughed. "I suppose your father has never made bear stew has he?"
Jaime frowned. "What the fuck are you saying?"
Jon continued to smile, knowing it was annoying the Kingslayer. "The first step in bear stew is to kill a bear. Tywin Lannister has to kill Robb first, and that will not be an easy task, I promise you that."
Jaime sneered but remained silent. He had no response to the bastard's insult, so he contented himself to imaging all the ways he would kill the boy when he was finally free. He would get his revenge, on the Stark whelp and his Bastard brother. They'd all fall to his blade. one day.
A Lannister always pays his debts.