The night following the spy's death was not easy.
I slept only a few hours, haunted by the image of the blade sinking into his chest. Yet, in a strange way, I felt a forced sense of "maturity."
I was no longer the youth who merely watched; my hands were stained, and this world had become real to the point of pain.
I washed my face and looked in the mirror; I was still Alex, the lad everyone loved, but behind those eyes lay a secret that could alter the fate of the North.
As I was in the yard checking the sharpness of my sword, the castle horns blared.
I saw a black raven flying with great effort above the Maester's turret. It didn't take long for the castle to explode with whispers. "Lord Arryn is dead! King Robert is coming to Winterfell!"
I froze in my tracks. Even though I had been waiting for this moment, hearing it "now" made my stomach churn. I ran toward the inner corridors, and there I found Jon Snow. He was leaning against a stone wall in a dark corner, looking lost and isolated from the growing bustle of the castle.
I approached him and sat beside him on the cold stone floor. Silence reigned between us for a while, broken only by the sound of servants rushing to prepare the Great Hall.
"Have you heard?" I asked, staring at the grey clouds.
Jon looked at me with eyes full of bitterness and anxiety. "The King's Hand is dead, Alex. My father (Ned) looks unspeakably grim. They say the King will arrive within a month with half the court. Winterfell will be crowded with strangers... and queens who cannot stand the sight of those like me."
I felt his bitterness. "Jon, don't think that way. You are a part of this house."
Jon sighed deeply and said suddenly, "Alex, I've been thinking... perhaps this is the time to leave. My uncle Benjen will arrive with the King, and I'll ask him to take me to the Wall. In the Night's Watch, it doesn't matter who your father is or if you're a bastard. There, I'll be a man among men."
I bolted upright, feeling a desperate urge to stop him. "The Wall? Are you mad, Jon? You're seventeen years old! The Wall isn't a place for heroes like in the stories; it's a place for criminals and exiles who have nowhere else to go. You are not one of them."
"But there is no place for me here!" Jon cried in a desperate tone. "When the King comes, I'll be put at the end of the table. Lady Catelyn can't bear to look at me. At the Wall, I'll find my own honor."
I grabbed his shoulder and shook him firmly, speaking with the maturity of a young man who sees the coming danger: "Honor isn't built by running away, Jon. Listen to me carefully... Winterfell is going to face difficult days. The King is coming with southern vipers. Lord Ned will need you. Robb will need you. I will need you! If you leave now, you are abandoning your family at a time when they are in most desperate need of every loyal sword."
Jon looked at me in shock, so I continued: "The Wall will stay where it is; it's not going anywhere. But if something happens here in the North, who will protect your younger siblings? Theon? He loves us, but he is an outsider. Me? I'm just the master-at-arms' son. You are the true blood, Jon, even if you don't carry the name. Your place is here, beside me and beside Robb. Promise me you won't rush into this."
Jon didn't answer immediately, but he lowered his head and began to contemplate my words. "You talk as if a war is coming, Alex."
"War always follows kings, my friend," I replied sincerely. "Just stay here. The North is stronger with us all together."
I headed to the training yard where Robb and Theon were trading blows. My father, Ser Rodrik, was watching sharply. I entered the ring and gripped my heavy wooden practice sword.
"Alex! Come, show this 'Fish' how the men of the North fight!" Theon shouted with his usual arrogance, pointing at Robb.
I stepped forward to face Theon first. In the blink of an eye, I parried his thrust, struck the hilt of my sword against his wrist, and placed the wooden blade under his chin in a flash. "You're dead, Theon," I said with a confident side-smile.
Then came Robb's turn. Robb was very strong, and we traded blows for ten full minutes. In the end, I managed to catch Robb off-guard with a swift pirouette move—one I had learned from my memories of what true combat should be—and sent his sword flying from his hand.
My father stopped and coughed with dignity. "Well done, Alex. You are faster than Theon and more skilled than Robb at maneuvering. But remember, do not let your dominance here make you arrogant."
Late in the afternoon, I saw Sansa walking with her handmaidens toward the garden. I stopped behind a massive tree trunk, pretending to tie my boot. I didn't want to disturb her, but I couldn't stop myself from looking. She looked radiant, like a flower in the midst of the snow.
I wanted to be the person who talked to her, who laughed with her... but I knew my place. I was Alex, the son of the master-at-arms, and she was the Lady of Winterfell. Suddenly, a piece of silk flew from the hand of one of her maidens due to the wind, landing near me. I ran and caught it before it could get soiled.
"Lady Sansa," I said, my voice trembling slightly despite my attempt to stay steady, as I held out the scarf.
Sansa looked at me and gave that smile that makes one's knees shake. "Thank you, Alex. You are always quick to the rescue, even with scraps of silk."
"It is my duty, my Lady," I replied, bowing my head respectfully. Her maidens giggled in whispers, and Sansa continued on her way. I stood there for a few seconds, breathing in the scent of lemon cakes and winter roses that lingered in the air. My heart was pounding madly. She will not go to the South and be crushed there, not while I draw breath.
I returned to my room with my sword and a new resolve. The King was coming, the game had begun, and I was no longer just an observer... I was the wolf who would guard the den.