STORMBORN

22 | PROMISES

_______2010_______

"Whoa, who chewed you up and spat you out?" Robb's thundery voice boggled up Jon's quiet entrance to his bedroom late in the night.

"A dragon." Jon mumbled as he stared at his bruised up mug on the tall mirror hung on the wall.

Robb was not exaggerating. His eyes were swollen like a gold fish's, he had cuts just under his eyebrows that needed some stitching and his jaw was busted.

However, he can't help but smile at the turn of events earlier that day when he defeated Rhaegar. Of course he couldn't tell Robb but he was just dying to.

But he shouldn't. Nobody even knew who trained Rhaegar either but it was rumored that Ser Barristan Selmy did so. He was the best warrior in his generation.

And to keep the suspicions off on who this mysterious mentor is, Jon had to come up with a lie that was believable— something lowly that any bastard would do no questions asked, such as:

"Way to go spending your nameday on cheap bar fights, dear brother." Robb shook his head laughing as he stood behind him staring at his beat-up face.

"You should've seen my opponent's mug when I beat the living shit out of him." He joined his brother's banter. It was true, though. From Rhaegar's debonair and comely features, Jon really beat the living shit out of him.

"I can tell but I wonder what father thinks of this after you missed your party and came home looking like that." He smirked in his sincere kind of way and went back to his bed, propping up on his elbow.

It's as if he'd been splashed a bucket of icy cold water from the Shivering Sea by Robb's mention of their father. "Does it look that bad?"

"Of course not! Dear brother, you look uglier when you're alright." Robb always lightened his mood.

"Nevertheless, I'm still ten times hotter than you, though." Jon tried to make a face but the pain was unbearable.

"Dream on." He chuckled. His blue eyes glinting in through the dark like windows to broad daylight.

"How was training today by the way?" Jon went to his brother's bathroom for the medicine cabinet. He was sure there's a painkiller somewhere.

"A lot better when you're still attending. Not one soul is a proper opponent for Robb Stark, you know?" He yelled so Jon could hear him from the other room and he picked up his snickering as a response.

Robb then shook his head and turned the page of a book he's been reading. "It's unfair that you could skip it and not get a thousand words of terror and resentment from my mother."

Jon emerged from the bathroom taking two dozes of painkillers. "Well, she already does that to me everyday. And besides, I'm not the heir to Winterfell so there's a trifle of freedom I could relish from and a little bit more of it from being a bastard."

"Don't rub it in. For all it's worth, I'm still the prettiest Stark." Robb tried to continue his banter ignoring the comment on his mother's cruelty. He hated her for it.

"Well brother, I can't have everything, can I?"

"You speak truthfully, ser." He gave him a salute but his eyes were still glued on the book. "Happy nameday."