The Provenance || Jon Snow | Game of Thrones

2.05

Bran has a hard time believing this is not a farce...that Theon's not here to watch over him and Rickon while Robb's at war. No, Theon is declaring war against them. With the whole collection of the Stark household now gathered in the small courtyard of this fortress, Bran is momentarily struck that he, the Lord of Winterfell, allowed this to happen. And this duty--to prevent his people's harm--is what keeps him nonemotional in the face of this betrayal, wishing to cry and scream, yet knowing no lord would do as much in the face of adversity.

"It's your dream, little lord. The ocean has come to swallow this place. I ain't letting it drown me," Osha whispers into his ear, although Bran did not need the reminder. Yes, it is his dream, after all.

//////////////////////////////////////////

"Ghost, stay with us. Ghost!" Jon shouts after his rouge direwolf, the albino mutt doing nothing to abide by Jon's commands as he rushes over a break in the mountain and disappears from Jon's sight. Unable to hold back his huff, Jon again curses Gabrielle Baelish, given his wolf had become far less obedient since her visit to Winterfell. But then again, that could just be the wolf's age and nature catching up with him.

Qhorin chuckles at Jon's attempt, failure, and irritation, remarking, "There goes your pet."

"He's not a pet," Jon bites back, choosing to forget the wolf for now, despite Ghost's potential to disappear forever. And yet, in his heart, Jon knows the direwolf will return to him again, although when that will be, he cannot know.

"No, you're right, he's not. You can't tame a wild thing. You can't trust a wild thing."

Jon shakes his head in disagreement, though he does agree with the Handhand to some extent, "Ghost is different."

"So you think. Wild creatures have their own rules, their own reasons. And you'll never know them."

Jon looks at the ranger curiously, asking the valid point, "Why then would they follow us? Listen to us?"

"Nature and blood has strong magic, Jon Snow," Qhorin remarks with a stark grin, and Jon's tempted to believe him if only due to his experiences t north of the Wall. "You'll learn that soon enough. Now, the wildlings we're looking for sleep during the day and hunt at night."

"I thought you said you couldn't know wild things," Jon snarks, and though he expects a glare for his sharp tongue and 'questioning of authority,' Qhorin Halfhand only grins at him.

"I said you can't," the man emphasizes, turning back to the remainder of the rangers, "They find a nice cave to hide in while the sun's up and do their killing when it's dark."

"We could do the same," Jon proposes.

But Qhorin shakes his head with disagreement, eyes boring into Jon's, "No, we couldn't. This is their country. They know where to walk, where not to walk. I've lost good men who fell into a crevasse they didn't see till they were in it. None but those of the true North can be safer here."

"My father always said I'm of the North," Jon replies with a hint of nostalgia and a dash of pride, although this only effectively causes Qhorin to laugh deeply at him. Jon glares and rebukes, "I wasn't joking."

Smiling, Qhorin gestures to the vast extent of wilderness about their lonely and desolate forms, insurmountable and holding a great deal of power over mankind, "Look around, boy. This look like home to you? You start thinking you know this place, it will kill you. You understand me?" And despite the fact that Jon nods at the man's sharp lesson, Qhorin shakes his head, "No, you don't. We're at war. We've always been at war. It's never going to end 'cause we're not fighting an enemy. We're fighting the North, and it's not going anywhere—it does not follow the laws of the South, it does everything Southerners say it can't. The Watch has given you a great gift. You only have one thing to give in return, your life."