Chapter 160: The Wolf Goes South
Ros awakened beneath heavy furs with sunlight touching her face.
For several moments, she remained still.
Her body ached in places she had not known could ache. The pleasant soreness reminded her of the hours before dawn, when the bed had creaked loudly enough for the women in the neighbouring rooms to laugh through the walls.
Ros smiled into the pillow.
Then she noticed that the other side of the bed was empty.
Jon stood near the small table, fastening the final clasp of his dark tunic.
He appeared completely rested.
Ros found that offensive.
"You look as though you spent the night sleeping," she said.
Jon glanced toward her.
"I slept."
"For perhaps half an hour."
"It was enough."
Ros pushed herself upright.
The fur slipped from her shoulders, exposing her breasts.
Jon's eyes lowered.
She noticed and deliberately allowed the fur to fall farther.
"You still enjoy looking."
"Yes."
Ros smiled.
At least she had managed to affect some part of him.
She glanced toward the five gold dragons still resting upon the table.
The coins had not disappeared with the man who placed them there.
That already made Jon more honest than several noble customers she had entertained.
"Should I keep tonight free?" she asked.
"No."
The immediate answer surprised her.
"You do not intend to return?"
"I did not say that."
Ros raised an eyebrow.
"Then what did you say?"
"Do as you normally would. If I return and you are free, I will come inside."
"And if I am with another man?"
"I will leave."
"No jealousy?"
"No."
"No threats?"
"No."
"You would not have him dragged into the street by those terrifying soldiers?"
Jon picked up his cloak.
"I have no interest in punishing a man for purchasing something you freely chose to sell."
Ros studied him.
Most wealthy men treated her like an object they could continue claiming after their payment ended. Some became angry if she smiled at another customer while they remained in the building.
Jon had spent five gold dragons and demanded no ownership.
"You are a strange king."
"I have been called worse."
Ros drew the fur around herself.
"When will you leave Winterfell?"
"Not yet."
"That was not an answer."
"It was the only one you require."
Ros laughed softly.
Jon crossed the room.
She expected him to walk past her.
Instead, he placed one hand behind her neck and kissed her.
Ros immediately responded.
The fur slipped again.
Her body pressed against him before she remembered how exhausted she was.
Jon withdrew.
Ros looked disappointed despite herself.
"That was cruel."
"You will survive."
"Perhaps."
Jon turned toward the door.
Ros watched him.
"You will return," she said.
He looked back.
"Confident?"
She smiled.
"I saw how many times you looked at my breasts before leaving."
Jon's gaze descended once more.
Ros laughed triumphantly.
Then he left.
She remained in bed, listening as his footsteps disappeared along the corridor.
Only after silence returned did Ros sink back into the furs.
Five gold dragons rested upon the table.
Her body still remembered his hands.
She hoped he returned.
For the first time in years, gold was not the only reason.
-------------
Rumours travelled faster than royal commands.
By breakfast, half the winter town knew King Jon had entered its largest brothel.
By midday, the story had reached Winterfell.
By afternoon, the number of women involved had grown from one to six, the payment had increased from five gold dragons to fifty, and several drunken soldiers claimed the red-haired prostitute had been unable to walk afterward.
Most of Winterfell treated the story as amusing gossip.
Cersei Lannister did not.
She sat before the mirror inside her chambers while a maid arranged her golden hair.
The queen had already chosen the gown she would wear during the following morning's departure. Crimson silk rested beneath a dark travelling cloak lined with fur.
The maid's hands moved carefully.
Cersei watched her reflection.
Two other servants packed the remaining dresses and jewellery into wooden chests.
Their conversation had stopped the moment Cersei entered.
That silence attracted her attention.
"What were you discussing?" she asked.
No one answered.
Cersei's eyes moved through the mirror.
"I did not ask whether you wished to tell me."
The younger maid swallowed.
"Only a rumour, Your Grace."
"What rumour?"
The women exchanged frightened glances.
Cersei turned in her chair.
"Leave us."
The servants packing the chests departed quickly.
The young maid remained behind.
Cersei waited.
"It concerns King Jon," the maid finally said.
Cersei's expression did not change.
"What about him?"
"He was seen in the winter town last night."
"Jon is frequently seen outside the castle."
"Yes, Your Grace."
The maid looked toward the closed door.
"Inside a brothel."
The chamber became quiet.
Cersei turned back toward the mirror.
She examined her own reflection as though the information meant nothing.
"Men visit brothels."
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Why would the activities of a northern brothel interest me?"
"They would not."
The answer arrived too quickly.
Cersei's green eyes sharpened.
"Which woman?"
The maid hesitated.
Cersei saw it.
"A red-haired prostitute named Ros."
"Named Ros," Cersei repeated.
"Yes."
"How do you know her name?"
"The soldiers have been speaking about her."
"Of course they have."
Cersei looked down at her hands.
She remembered Jon standing behind her inside a private chamber.
His hands upon her bare breasts.
The calm desire in his eyes.
The way he had enjoyed the reward she offered without becoming weak, obedient, or desperate for more.
Cersei had expected him to remember her body.
She had expected the memory to occupy him.
Instead, only days later, he had walked into a common brothel and chosen a prostitute.
"How long did he remain?" she asked.
"Until morning."
Cersei's fingers tightened.
"And the woman?"
"Your Grace?"
"Is she beautiful?"
The maid said nothing.
That silence answered the question.
Cersei turned toward her.
"I asked whether she is beautiful."
"I have never seen her closely."
"But you have seen her."
"Once."
"And?"
The maid looked as though she would prefer facing an executioner.
"She is considered very beautiful, Your Grace."
Cersei's mouth became a thin line.
"What does she look like?"
"Long red hair. Pale skin. She is…"
The maid stopped.
"She is what?"
"Curved."
Cersei looked into the mirror.
Her own golden hair shone beneath the afternoon light. Her green eyes remained clear. The travelling gown embraced a body men had desired since before she reached womanhood.
A northern prostitute did not compare to her.
The thought should have ended the matter.
It did not.
"How much did he pay?"
"Five gold dragons."
That was not the price of an ordinary night.
Cersei dismissed the maid.
The woman fled with visible relief.
Once alone, Cersei remained before the mirror.
Jon had every right to visit a brothel.
He had no wife.
No betrothal.
No vows binding him to another woman.
More importantly, he had made no promises to Cersei.
She was the married one.
She was the queen.
She had offered him her body because she believed desire would provide a path toward influence.
Yet the knowledge that Jon had spent an entire night touching another woman created a heat within her which had nothing to do with strategy.
Cersei hated it.
She hated Ros without meeting her.
She hated the servants who repeated the rumour.
Most of all, she hated that Jon would recognise her jealousy the moment she confronted him.
Cersei stood.
She told herself she had no intention of confronting him.
Then she left the chamber to find him.
-------------
Jon stood inside Winterfell's main courtyard overseeing preparations for the departure.
The royal party occupied nearly every available section of open ground.
Servants carried trunks into wagons. Stable hands saddled horses. Blacksmiths performed final inspections. Guards argued over supplies while royal officers attempted to organise hundreds of people who had spent too long enjoying Winterfell's hospitality.
Ned's fifty chosen men stood apart from the royal soldiers.
Their armour bore the direwolf of House Stark. Jory Cassel moved between them, inspecting weapons, mounts, and supplies.
Jon spoke quietly with Alex beside the covered walkway.
"Five hundred soldiers will begin moving toward White Harbor after the royal party departs," Alex reported. "The remaining five hundred will stay until you decide to leave Winterfell."
"The giants?"
"Six will return with the first force. Four will remain."
"And the direwolves?"
"Thirty will return north. Twenty will be divided between Winterfell and the nearby patrol stations."
Jon nodded.
The arrangements were sensible.
A familiar presence approached from behind.
Cersei.
Jon heard the rhythm of her footsteps and smelled her perfume before she spoke.
Alex noticed her.
He inclined his head.
"Your Grace."
Cersei barely acknowledged him.
"I wish to speak with my nephew."
The word carried unusual sharpness.
Alex looked toward Jon.
"You heard the queen," Jon said.
Alex left without comment.
Cersei waited until he moved beyond hearing distance.
Jon studied her.
"You appear displeased."
"Do I?"
"Yes."
"Perhaps I am tired of this frozen castle."
"You were tired of it before today."
Cersei glanced toward the surrounding servants.
"Walk with me."
Jon raised one eyebrow.
"That sounded remarkably like an order."
"A request, then."
They crossed the courtyard and entered the covered passage leading toward the western wall.
No one followed.
Cersei stopped where the noise of the preparations became distant.
"I hear the King beyond the Wall has begun inspecting northern brothels."
Jon immediately understood.
"The inspection was thorough."
Cersei's face tightened.
"You admit it?"
"I was not aware I had concealed it."
"You entered a common brothel where every drunk soldier and merchant could see you."
"Yes."
"You are a king."
"I remembered."
"A king's behaviour affects his reputation."
Jon leaned one shoulder against the stone wall.
"Are you concerned about my reputation?"
"I am concerned that the man who signed a treaty with the Iron Throne may be easily distracted by the first whore who opens her gown."
Jon's lips curved.
"You did not consider it a distraction when you opened yours."
Cersei became still.
The memory struck them both.
Her naked body.
His hands upon her.
Her belief that pleasure would create control.
She glanced toward each end of the passage to ensure they remained alone.
"Lower your voice."
"No one is near enough to hear."
"That does not give you permission to speak carelessly."
"You approached me."
"To warn you."
"About prostitutes?"
"About foolishness."
Jon watched her.
Cersei attempted to appear cold and superior.
Her jealousy remained obvious.
"Was the red-haired whore worth five gold dragons?" she asked.
Jon's faint smile widened.
"You investigated the price."
"I heard rumours."
"You asked questions."
"I did not need to. Half the castle is speaking about your night."
"And that bothers you."
"No."
The answer came too quickly.
Jon stepped closer.
Cersei remained where she stood.
"You appear unusually interested in how I spend my nights."
"I am interested in understanding your weaknesses."
"Ros is not a weakness."
"So you remember her name."
"I spent the night with her."
Cersei's green eyes flashed.
"You speak of it proudly."
"I speak of it honestly."
"She is a prostitute."
"Yes."
"A woman who sells herself to any man carrying enough silver."
"Ros asked for gold and gave me exactly what I purchased."
Jon looked directly into Cersei's eyes.
"That makes her more honest than most queens."
Cersei's jaw tightened.
Anger entered her eyes, but she kept both hands at her sides.
"You insulted me."
"I made an observation."
"You compared me to a whore."
"No."
Jon's voice remained calm.
"I said she was honest."
"That does not improve the insult."
"You would not be offended if you did not recognise some truth within it."
Cersei stepped closer until barely any space remained between them.
"You possess no understanding of me."
"I understand enough."
"You understand nothing beyond whatever lies your remembered story taught you."
Jon's eyes became colder.
"You came searching for me because another woman shared my bed."
"I came to warn you that the entire castle is laughing about your lack of restraint."
"No. You came because you are jealous."
"I am not."
"You searched for me after hearing I spent the night with another woman."
"I came to prevent you from humiliating yourself again."
"You asked whether she was worth the gold."
"Because you overpaid."
"You know her normal price?"
Cersei said nothing.
Jon watched the pulse moving rapidly in her throat.
"You wanted me to remain occupied by the memory of your body," he said.
Cersei's expression hardened.
"You possess an extremely high opinion of yourself."
"I remember how you reacted when my hands touched you."
Colour warmed her cheeks.
"She allowed you to touch her because you paid."
"You allowed me because you believed pleasure would give you influence."
Cersei's eyes narrowed.
"At least I required you to earn it."
Jon laughed quietly.
That laugh infuriated her.
"You find this amusing?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because you have no right to be jealous, yet you are."
"I am the queen. I do not become jealous of prostitutes."
"Then why are we speaking about Ros?"
Cersei had no answer she could offer without surrendering.
She looked away first.
Jon studied the proud line of her face.
The anger in her eyes.
The tension within her body.
He enjoyed seeing her lose control.
Cersei sensed that enjoyment and hated him for it.
"She cannot compare to me," Cersei said.
Jon said nothing.
The silence scraped against her pride.
Cersei turned toward him again.
"Can she?"
"You said you were not jealous."
"I am not."
"Then the answer should not matter."
"It does not."
"Good."
Jon stepped away.
Cersei watched him.
The question escaped before pride could stop it.
"Was she better?"
Jon paused.
Slowly, he looked back.
Cersei realised what she had asked.
She attempted to recover.
"I mean—is the northern whore truly skilled enough to justify five gold dragons?"
Jon approached again.
This time, he stopped beside her rather than in front of her.
His mouth moved near her ear.
"Are you truly asking me to compare you?"
Cersei held herself perfectly still.
"Of course not."
"Good."
His breath touched her skin.
"You might dislike the answer."
Jon walked away.
Cersei turned after him.
"You did not answer!"
He continued through the passage.
Cersei stood alone, furious.
He had not said Ros was better.
He had not said Cersei was better either.
That uncertainty followed her back toward the Great Keep.
For the remainder of the day, whenever she remembered Jon's smile, she imagined red hair spread across a bed beneath him.
Cersei had never met Ros.
She already despised her.
-------------
Ned spent his final evening at Winterfell with his family.
No feast was held.
Robert had suggested one, but Ned refused. He did not want his final hours in the North buried beneath drunken songs, courtly conversation, and strangers asking questions about his new office.
The Starks gathered within the family solar.
Catelyn sat beside Rickon near the hearth. Bran occupied the chair beside her. Arya paced near the window while Sansa sat quietly with her hands folded in her lap.
Robb stood near Ned.
Jon remained beside the fire.
For a time, none of them spoke.
The certainty of Ned's departure had changed the room.
He looked toward Sansa first.
She had once dreamed of travelling south, living at court, marrying a prince, and becoming queen.
Now the thought of Joffrey produced fear rather than excitement.
Ned sat beside her.
"You are not ashamed of refusing him?"
Sansa lowered her eyes.
"No."
"Good."
She looked up.
"Did I insult King Robert?"
"The marriage concerned your life. You had the right to refuse."
"He seemed disappointed."
"He was."
Sansa's expression weakened.
Ned continued before she could mistake disappointment for condemnation.
"But he accepted your choice. That is what matters."
Sansa nodded.
Ned placed one hand over hers.
"Never accept cruelty because it wears a crown."
Sansa remembered Joffrey tormenting servants and insulting giants while hiding behind royal guards.
"I will not."
Ned believed her.
Arya approached immediately afterward.
"I should come with you."
"No."
"I can protect you."
"You will remain at Winterfell."
"I am better with a sword than Sansa."
Sansa looked offended.
"This has nothing to do with Sansa," Ned said.
"I can continue my lessons on the road."
"No."
Arya crossed her arms.
"You are leaving with fifty guards. One more person will not matter."
"It matters to me."
"Why?"
"Because I will perform my duties more effectively knowing you are safe here."
Arya looked toward Jon for support.
He gave none.
"You agree with him?" she demanded.
"Yes."
"You always tell me to become stronger."
"Remaining home does not prevent that."
Arya scowled.
Jon continued.
"Father does not need another person to protect. He needs to concentrate upon the dangers around him."
"I would not need protection."
Everyone in the room looked at her.
Arya's scowl deepened.
"Not much protection."
Ned almost smiled.
"Continue your training. Listen to your mother. Do not start fights with visiting squires."
"What if they start it?"
"Finish it without breaking anything important," Jon said.
Catelyn glared at him.
"That is not what your father meant."
"It is better advice."
Arya grinned.
Ned shook his head.
Then Bran approached.
"Will you return before winter?"
"I intend to."
"That does not mean you will."
Ned crouched before him.
"No. But I will write frequently."
Arya made a sound.
Bran looked toward her.
"What?"
"Father's letters are boring."
"My letters contain necessary information."
"They say it rained, someone visited, and we should continue our lessons."
"Those are important matters."
"They are not stories."
Bran smiled.
Ned sighed.
"I will attempt to include something interesting."
"A battle?" Bran asked.
"Preferably not one I fought."
Rickon climbed down from Catelyn's lap and walked toward Ned.
"You are going?"
"Yes."
"No."
The simple refusal carried more force than Arya's arguments.
Ned lifted him.
Rickon wrapped both arms around his neck.
"I will return."
"No."
"I must help King Robert."
"Robb can help."
Robert would probably have accepted the suggestion if it kept Ned in Winterfell.
Ned held his youngest son until Rickon's grip finally loosened.
Then he turned toward Robb.
The others grew silent again.
Ned placed a hand upon his eldest son's shoulder.
"Winterfell will look toward you after I leave."
"I know."
"Listen to your mother. Listen to Luwin and Rodrik. But do not use their advice to avoid making your own decisions."
Robb nodded.
"Protect your brothers and sisters."
"I will."
"Judge disputes patiently. Do not mistake disagreement for disobedience. And never promise what you cannot provide."
"I understand."
Ned looked into his eyes.
"No. You will understand when the responsibility is yours."
Robb accepted the correction.
"I will do my best."
"That is all any lord can do."
They embraced.
Robb attempted to remain composed.
Ned felt the emotion within the way his son gripped him.
When they separated, Ned looked toward Jon.
Neither approached immediately.
They had already said many of the necessary words.
The most important would wait until morning.
-------------
Catelyn found Ned alone inside their chamber later that night.
His travelling clothes had been placed upon a chair. Ice rested within its enormous scabbard near the bed.
Ned looked around the room.
He had slept there beside Catelyn for years.
Their children had been born and raised within these walls.
Leaving it felt more difficult than riding into battle.
Catelyn closed the door.
"You can still refuse."
Ned looked toward her.
"No."
"I know."
She crossed the room and stood before him.
"Robert would forgive you eventually."
"Perhaps."
"But you will not change your mind."
"No."
Catelyn released a slow breath.
"I wish I could hate him for asking."
"He asked because he has no one else."
"And now I must surrender my husband because Robert failed to trust the people surrounding him."
Ned had no answer.
Catelyn placed her hands upon his chest.
"Do not trust Lysa."
"I will not."
"Do not meet Baelish alone."
"I will be cautious."
"That is not a promise."
"No. It is the truth."
Catelyn's eyes shone with worry.
"He knows you, Ned. He grew beside me. He understands how you think and how you respond when you believe someone has been wronged."
"I know."
"Then do not behave as he expects."
Ned almost smiled.
"You are asking me not to behave like myself."
"I am asking you to survive long enough to return."
Her hand moved toward the hidden pocket beneath his tunic.
The marked iron disc rested there.
"If anything happens, use what Jon gave you."
"I will."
"Do not hesitate because you believe you can handle the danger yourself."
"I will use it."
Catelyn studied his face.
Then she kissed him.
No more strategy passed between them that night.
Only the words of a husband and wife who did not know when they would share the same bed again.
-------------
The royal party departed at sunrise.
Winterfell's outer yard filled before dawn.
Hundreds of horses shifted beneath riders. Wheels creaked as servants secured the final supplies. Royal banners lifted in the cold wind.
The crowned stag flew beside the lion of House Lannister.
Fifty Stark guards gathered beneath the direwolf.
Cersei entered her wheelhouse without looking toward Jon.
Jon noticed.
He also noticed the anger still surrounding every movement she made.
Joffrey rode beneath Barristan's supervision. His sword had been returned, but the old knight remained close enough to prevent another incident.
Jaime mounted near the Kingsguard.
Ned stood beside his horse saying his final farewells.
Sansa embraced him carefully.
Arya did so fiercely.
Bran attempted to appear brave.
Rickon cried openly.
Robb stood beside Catelyn, already forcing himself to carry the composure expected from the man who would govern Winterfell in Ned's absence.
Finally, Ned approached Jon.
For a moment, they stood facing one another without speaking.
Jon adjusted one strap upon Ned's saddle.
"Do not allow them to separate you from your guards."
"I will not."
"Do not drink anything poured outside your sight."
Ned raised an eyebrow.
"King's Landing is not filled entirely with poisoners."
"One was enough for Jon Arryn."
Ned accepted the warning.
"Do not meet Baelish alone," Jon continued.
"I already promised Catelyn caution."
"You promised to be cautious. That means different things to each of you."
Ned almost smiled.
"And Robert?"
"Tell him nothing until the evidence is complete."
"I know."
Jon looked at him.
Ned touched the pocket containing the iron disc.
"I remember."
"Good."
"Anything else?"
Jon's expression remained calm.
"Come home."
The simple words carried everything he had not said.
Ned stepped forward and embraced him.
Jon returned it.
The boy Ned had allowed to leave Winterfell at six years old now stood stronger than any king or army in Westeros.
Yet in that moment, Jon remained his son.
"I will," Ned promised.
They separated.
Ned mounted.
Robert rode toward Jon before giving the command to depart.
"I will bring him back," Robert said.
Jon looked toward Ned.
"He is going south to protect you."
Robert's amusement disappeared.
"Then we will protect each other."
"Do not make him pay for your mistakes."
The warning would have angered Robert coming from anyone else.
Instead, he looked toward his oldest friend.
"I will try."
Jon returned his gaze to Robert.
"That is more honest than another promise."
Robert extended one arm.
Jon clasped it.
The king nodded.
Then he turned his horse.
"Move!"
The royal column began leaving Winterfell.
Mounted guards passed through the gate first. The wheelhouse followed, surrounded by Lannister soldiers. Wagons rolled behind it in a line stretching farther than the eye could easily follow.
Robert rode near the front.
Ned joined him.
Jory and the fifty northern guards formed around the new Hand of the King.
The Stark family watched from the gate.
Rickon cried against Catelyn's side.
Bran waved.
Arya did not.
Sansa held her mother's hand.
Robb stood straight.
Jon watched his father grow smaller upon the kingsroad.
At last, the royal banners disappeared beyond the distant hills.
The gates remained open.
Silence settled over the Starks.
Then Jon closed his eyes.
High above the kingsroad, a hawk circled in the cold morning air.
The world changed.
Jon saw through its eyes.
He saw the royal column moving south.
He saw Ned riding beside Robert.
He saw the fifty Stark guards surrounding him.
He saw Cersei's wheelhouse and Joffrey beneath Barristan's watch.
No one knew Jon observed them.
Not Robert.
Not Catelyn.
Not even Ned.
Jon released the hawk.
Winterfell returned around him.
Robb remained beside him, staring after their father.
Jon looked toward him.
"Call the council."
Robb appeared surprised.
"Now?"
"The North did not stop because Father left."
Robb looked at the open gate one final time.
Then he nodded.
"I will call them."
The acting lord of Winterfell turned toward the castle.
The first day of his rule had begun.
-------------
Far to the south, Petyr Baelish received confirmation before sunset.
The royal party had departed Winterfell.
Eddard Stark rode beside Robert Baratheon as Hand of the King.
His daughters remained safely in the North.
Baelish placed the report upon his desk.
"Prepare Lord Stark's welcome," he ordered.
The man standing before him bowed.
"The rooms in the Tower of the Hand are ready."
"Rooms are not a welcome."
Baelish looked toward the city beyond his window.
"Arrange the rumours. Lannister guards asking unusual questions. Pycelle destroying old treatment records. Servants who remember Jon Arryn speaking about Robert's children."
"Truth or invention?"
"Both."
The man nodded.
"And Gendry?"
"Observe him."
"Should he be removed?"
"No."
Baelish's answer came immediately.
"Do not touch the boy. Do not touch any witness connected to Jon Arryn. And do not touch Eddard Stark."
The agent looked surprised.
"Your plan requires Lord Stark to investigate."
"It does."
"Then why—"
"Because we do not yet understand how closely his son is watching."
The man glanced toward the window.
"From beyond the Wall?"
"Distance appears to mean very little to King Jon."
A small brown bird perched upon the outer ledge.
Baelish noticed it.
The bird tilted its head.
For several seconds, Petyr stared into its black eyes.
Then he crossed the room and closed the shutters.
The bird flew away.
Baelish released a quiet breath.
What he did not know was that the bird had been completely ordinary.
On the roof behind him, hidden beside a stone chimney, another bird remained perfectly still.
Through its eyes, Jon watched the closed shutters.
Baelish believed a wolf was travelling toward his trap.
He had not yet understood that the wolf was bringing the hunter with him.
End of Chapter 160
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