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istumpysk · 2 years ago

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Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: Jon XIII (Chapter 69)

"Let them die," said Queen Selyse.

It was the answer that Jon Snow had expected. This queen never fails to disappoint. Somehow that did not soften the blow. "Your Grace," he persisted stubbornly, "they are starving at Hardhome by the thousands. Many are women—"

"—and children, yes. Very sad." The queen pulled her daughter closer to her and kissed her cheek. The cheek unmarred by greyscale, Jon did not fail to note. "We are sorry for the little ones, of course, but we must be sensible. We have no food for them, and they are too young to help the king my husband in his wars. Better that they be reborn into the light."

Discussion about dying children being reborn into the light interrupted by Shireen kisses.

+.+.+

Melisandre of Asshai stood closer to the fire, the ruby at her throat pulsing with every breath she took. The red woman too had her attendants—the squire Devan Seaworth and two of the guardsmen the king had left her.

I continue to find it extremely suspect that so much attention is being paid to Devan's proximity to Melisandre, while the author also constantly underscores how vulnerable she is.

Remember, it's Devan who is close to Shireen, not Davos. It's Devan who was saved from certain death. Why? Where are we going with that?

+.+.+

Up spoke Ser Malegorn. "Lord Snow, who will lead this ranging?"

"Are you offering yourself, ser?"

"Do I look so foolish?"

Patchface jumped up. "I will lead it!" His bells rang merrily. "We will march into the sea and out again. Under the waves we will ride seahorses, and mermaids will blow seashells to announce our coming, oh, oh, oh."

We will march into the sea and out again.

Death, and restoration to life. I think?

Under the waves we will ride seahorses, and mermaids will blow seashells to announce our coming, oh, oh, oh.

Remember the Merling King?

The Braavosi trading galley hired by Petyr Baelish, that carries him and Sansa to the Vale?

The eastern sky was vague with the first hint of dawn when Sansa finally saw a ghostly shape in the darkness ahead; a trading galley, her sails furled, moving slowly on a single bank of oars. As they drew closer, she saw the ship's figurehead, a merman with a golden crown blowing on a great seashell horn. - Sansa V, ASOS

If it is the Merling King, that would not be the first time Sansa got the mermaid treatment.

Patchface rang his bells. "It is always summer under the sea," he intoned. "The merwives wear nennymoans in their hair and weave gowns of silver seaweed. I know, I know, oh, oh, oh." - Prologue, ACOK

+.+.+

Jon was less amused. "I will not ask my men to do what I would not do myself. I mean to lead the ranging."

This is honourable, but I'm going to say it's the wrong decision. You can't leave Castle Black days after thousands of wildlings crossed the Wall, and the tension is threatening to boil over.

+.+.+

"How bold of you," said the queen. "We approve. Afterward some bard will make a stirring song about you, no doubt, and we shall have a more prudent lord commander."

I went straight to asearchoficeandfire and investigated whether Jorah has ever been called prudent.

Nothing.

+.+.+

Ser Axell went through a door and returned a moment later with Gerrick Kingsblood. "Gerrick of House Redbeard," he announced, "King of the Wildlings."

Gerrick Kingsblood was a tall man, long of leg and broad of shoulder. The queen had dressed him in some of the king's old clothes, it appeared. Scrubbed and groomed, clad in green velvets and an ermine half-cape, with his long red hair freshly washed and his fiery beard shaped and trimmed, the wildling looked every inch a southron lord. He could walk into the throne room at King's Landing, and no one would blink an eye, Jon thought.

"Gerrick is the true and rightful king of the wildlings," the queen said, "descended in an unbroken male line from their great king Raymun Redbeard, whereas the usurper Mance Rayder was born of some common woman and fathered by one of your black brothers."

No, Jon might have said, Gerrick is descended from a younger brother of Raymun Redbeard. To the free folk that counted about as much as being descended from Raymun Redbeard's horse. They know nothing, Ygritte. And worse, they will not learn.

Hold up. Wait a second.

Did Val just lose her fancy title and crown? Is she no longer a princess?

Damn, Selyse stripped her of her entire identity.

+.+.+

"Gerrick has graciously agreed to give the hand of his eldest daughter to my beloved Axell, to be united by the Lord of Light in holy wedlock," Queen Selyse said. "His other girls shall wed at the same time—the second daughter with Ser Brus Buckler and the youngest with Ser Malegorn of Redpool."

"Sers." Jon inclined his head to the knights in question. "May you find happiness with your betrothed."

"Under the sea, men marry fishes." Patchface did a little dance step, jingling his bells. "They do, they do, they do."

+.+.+

Queen Selyse sniffed again. "Four marriages can be made as simply as three. It is past time that this woman Val was settled, Lord Snow. I have decided that she shall wed my good and leal knight, Ser Patrek of King's Mountain."

"Has Val been told, Your Grace?" asked Jon. "Amongst the free folk, when a man desires a woman, he steals her, and thus proves his strength, his cunning, and his courage. The suitor risks a savage beating if he is caught by the woman's kin, and worse than that if she herself finds him unworthy."

I so desperately want this to be about Petyr Bael-ish. Could be, when is anything about Val ever actually about Val?

Everyone thank Jon for putting a bad idea in Ser Patrek's head.

+.+.+

Jon wondered if the queen would be so eager to see Val married to one of her own knights if she knew Val's feelings about Princess Shireen.

Aww, is he saying that's disqualifying? Lol.

Big surprise Jon would never forget a conversation like that.

+.+.+

She [Melisandre] made her way down, the hem of her scarlet skirts swishing over the steps. It almost seemed as if she floated. "Where is your direwolf?"

"Asleep in my chambers. Her Grace does not allow Ghost in her presence. She claims he scares the princess. And so long as Borroq and his boar are about, I dare not let him loose."

+.+.+

"Selyse has the right of this, Lord Snow. Let them die. You cannot save them. Your ships are lost—"

"Six remain. More than half the fleet."

"Your ships are lost. All of them. Not a man shall return. I have seen that in my fires."

Melisandre is always kinda right / kinda wrong, so we'll have to wait and see how this plays out.

+.+.+

"I have made mistakes, I have admitted as much, but—"

"A grey girl on a dying horse. Daggers in the dark. A promised prince, born in smoke and salt. It seems to me that you make nothing but mistakes, my lady. Where is Stannis? What of Rattleshirt and his spearwives? Where is my sister?"

See? There is a sister in grey, there are daggers in the dark, and there is a promised princess born amidst salt and smoke. Kinda right / kinda wrong.

All we needed was Moqorro.

+.+.+

"All your questions shall be answered. Look to the skies, Lord Snow. And when you have your answers, send to me. Winter is almost upon us now. I am your only hope."

She botched this so badly, a raven will come, and he won't send for her. I cry.

+.+.+

"There is still much to decide. Spread the word. I want all the leading men in the Shieldhall when the evening watch begins. Tormund should be back by then. Where can I find Toregg?"

"With the little monster, like as not. He's taken a liking to one o' them milkmaids, I hear."

He has taken a liking to Val. Her sister was a queen, why not her? Tormund had once thought to make himself the King-Beyond-the-Wall, before Mance had bested him. Toregg the Tall might well be dreaming the same dream.

I don't want to rain all over the Val x Jon shipper parade (bwaha lies), but I have to point out that's the second time we've randomly paired Toregg and Val.

"Har!" laughed Tormund Giantsbane. "Don't bandy words with this one, Lord Snow, she's too clever for the likes o' you and me. Best steal her quick, before Toregg wakes up and takes her first."

[...]

But that bridge had been burned a long time ago, and Jon himself had thrown the torch. "Toregg is welcome to her," he announced. "I took a vow." - Jon XI, ADWD

Notice how much Jon doesn't care?

Remember how much Jon hated Joffrey before there was a reason to hate Joffrey? Yeah.

+.+.+

Outside the armory, Mully and the Flea stood shivering at guard. "Shouldn't you be inside, out of this wind?" Jon asked.

"That'd be sweet, m'lord," said Fulk the Flea, "but your wolf's in no mood for company today."

Mully agreed. "He tried to take a bite o' me, he did."

"Ghost?" Jon was shocked.

"Unless your lordship has some other white wolf, aye. I never seen him like this, m'lord. All wild-like, I mean."

He was not wrong, as Jon discovered for himself when he slipped inside the doors. The big white direwolf would not lie still. He paced from one end of the armory to the other, past the cold forge and back again. "Easy, Ghost," Jon called. "Down. Sit, Ghost. Down." Yet when he made to touch him, the wolf bristled and bared his teeth. It's that bloody boar. Even in here, Ghost can smell his stink.

+.+.+

But no sooner had Jon finished than the Lord Steward said, "Her Grace is wise. Let them die."

Jon sat back. "Is that the only counsel you can offer, my lord? Tormund is bringing eighty men. How many should we send? Shall we call upon the giants? The spearwives at Long Barrow? If we have women with us, it may put Mother Mole's people at ease."

"Send women, then. Send giants. Send suckling babes. Is that what my lord wishes to hear?" Bowen Marsh rubbed at the scar he had won at the Bridge of Skulls. "Send them all. The more we lose, the fewer mouths we'll have to feed."

I'm begging you to tell this man about the loan. He's beyond terrified over the lack of food, he won't shut up about it, please tell the man there's money to buy food. Historically people do violent things when there's no food, Jon.

+.+.+

Satin helped them back into their cloaks. As they walked through the armory, Ghost sniffed at them, his tail upraised and bristling. My brothers.

Jon, your wolf is talking.

+.+.+

"How many men do we have in ice cells?" he asked Bowen Marsh.

"Four living men. Two dead ones."

The corpses. Jon had almost forgotten them. He had hoped to learn something from the bodies they'd brought back from the weirwood grove, but the dead men had stubbornly remained dead. "We need to dig those cells out."

[...]

"What would the lord commander like us to do with his corpses?" asked Marsh when the living men had been moved.

"Leave them." If the storm entombed them, well and good. He would need to burn them eventually, no doubt, but for the nonce they were bound with iron chains inside their cells. That, and being dead, should suffice to hold them harmless.

Oh right, the dead corpses. Can't forget about the dead corpses. For some reason they seem important.

I hope this doesn't mean I won't get to read about Gendry running a sub-5 minute marathon in a blizzard.

+.+.+

Someone had already told the Thunderfist about Gerrick Kingsblood and his new style. "King o' the Wildlings?" Tormund roared. "Har! King o' My Hairy Butt Crack, more like."

"He has a regal look to him," Jon said.

"He has a little red cock to go with all that red hair, that's what he has. Raymund Redbeard and his sons died at Long Lake, thanks to your bloody Starks and the Drunken Giant. Not the little brother. Ever wonder why they called him the Red Raven?" Tormund's mouth split in a gap-toothed grin. "First to fly the battle, he was. 'Twas a song about it, after. The singer had to find a rhyme for craven, so …" He wiped his nose. "If your queen's knights want those girls o' his, they're welcome to them."

Is this hinting at someone else? I can't think of anyone other than the Hound.

+.+.+

Mully had not been wrong; the old steward was trembling, his face as pale as the snows outside. "I am being foolish, Lord Commander, but … this letter frightens me. See here?"

Bastard, was the only word written outside the scroll. No Lord Snow or Jon Snow or Lord Commander. Simply Bastard. And the letter was sealed with a smear of hard pink wax. "You were right to come at once," Jon said. You were right to be afraid. He cracked the seal, flattened the parchment, and read.

Welcome to Your Theory is Bad, and Here's Why.

Clydas thrust the parchment forward. It was tightly rolled and sealed, with a button of hard pink wax. Only the Dreadfort uses pink sealing wax. - Jon VI, ADWD

Only the Dreadfort uses pink wax. It is extremely unlikely Clydas wrote this letter and sealed it with pink wax he didn't have on hand.

+.+.+

Your false king is dead, bastard. He and all his host were smashed in seven days of battle. I have his magic sword. Tell his red whore.

Your false king's friends are dead. Their heads upon the walls of Winterfell. Come see them, bastard. Your false king lied, and so did you. You told the world you burned the King-Beyond-the-Wall. Instead you sent him to Winterfell to steal my bride from me.

I will have my bride back. If you want Mance Rayder back, come and get him. I have him in a cage for all the north to see, proof of your lies. The cage is cold, but I have made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell.

I want my bride back. I want the false king's queen. I want his daughter and his red witch. I want his wildling princess. I want his little prince, the wildling babe. And I want my Reek. Send them to me, bastard, and I will not trouble you or your black crows. Keep them from me, and I will cut out your bastard's heart and eat it.

It was signed,

Ramsay Bolton,

Trueborn Lord of Winterfell.

I see lies. If Ramsay had defeated Stannis (or Mors Umber), he'd know Jon doesn't have Theon.

Despite Ramsay having a notable hang-up about being called a bastard,

The dogs swarmed around them, snapping and snarling at the strangers. The Bastard's girls, Reek thought, before he remembered that one must never, never, never use that word in Ramsay's presence. - Reek II, ADWD

and signing this letter with Trueborn Lord of Winterfell, people still believe it's Mance who would excessively call Jon a bastard.

Your theory is bad.

Mance was left behind when Jeyne and Theon escaped (a castle that had no other exits), and was obviously apprehended given everything Ramsay knows. How would Mance be writing letters to Jon Snow? It will be a miracle if Mance has half his fingers left.

Your theory is bad.

Side note, kind of strange Rattleshirt-Mance was last seen in a cage without a cloak.

+.+.+

He handed Tormund Giantsbane the letter. "Here, see for yourself."

The wildling gave the letter a dubious look and handed it right back. "Feels nasty … but Tormund Thunderfist had better things to do than learn to make papers talk at him. They never have any good to say, now do they?"

Lots is made about the fact that Jon never mentions Ramsay's infamous spiky writing.

Ramsay Bolton, Lord of the Hornwood, it read, in a huge, spiky hand. The brown ink came away in flakes when Jon brushed it with his thumb. - Jon VI, ADWD

Hello? It's implied. Tormund can't read, why would he think the letter feels nasty?

Jon knows Ramsay's handwriting, you don't think he's going to immediately question the handwriting if it doesn't match what he's seen before?

Your theory is bad.

+.+.+

Dark wings, dark words. Perhaps there was more truth to those wise old sayings than he'd known. "It was sent by Ramsay Snow. I'll read you what he wrote."

Jon started off this book referring to him as Ramsay Bolton.

"That will bring you to the Dreadfort," said Jon, "but unless your host can outmarch a raven or a line of beacon fires, the castle will know of your approach. It will be an easy thing for Ramsay Bolton to cut off your retreat and leave you far from the Wall, without food or refuge, surrounded by your foes." - Jon IV, ADWD

Now he exclusively uses Ramsay Snow.

+.+.+

When he was done, Tormund whistled. "Har. That's buggered, and no mistake. What was that about Mance? Has him in a cage, does he? How, when hundreds saw your red witch burn the man?"

That was Rattleshirt, Jon almost said. That was sorcery. A glamor, she called it. "Melisandre … look to the skies, she said." He set the letter down. "A raven in a storm. She saw this coming." When you have your answers, send to me.

He doesn't send for her. She would know if Stannis was dead. Ho hum.

+.+.+

Jon flexed the fingers of his sword hand. The Night's Watch takes no part. He closed his fist and opened it again. What you propose is nothing less than treason. He thought of Robb, with snowflakes melting in his hair. Kill the boy and let the man be born. He thought of Bran, clambering up a tower wall, agile as a monkey. Of Rickon's breathless laughter. Of Sansa, brushing out Lady's coat and singing to herself. You know nothing, Jon Snow. He thought of Arya, her hair as tangled as a bird's nest. I made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell … I want my bride back … I want my bride back … I want my bride back …

How dare he call Bran a monkey.

What can I say about this that hasn't already been said? Should I point out the peculiar things Jon liked most about Ygritte?

And maybe her eyes were too far apart, but they were a pretty blue-grey color, and lively as any eyes he knew. Sometimes she sang in a low husky voice that stirred him. And sometimes by the cookfire when she sat hugging her knees with the flames waking echoes in her red hair, and looked at him, just smiling . . . well, that stirred some things as well. - Jon II, ASOS

Should I mention Jon invented a version of Ygritte that never existed?

He could tell she did not believe him. If I could show her Winterfell . . . give her a flower from the glass gardens, feast her in the Great Hall, and show her the stone kings on their thrones. We could bathe in the hot pools, and love beneath the heart tree while the old gods watched over us. - Jon V, ASOS

"Then I'd push him in a stream or throw a bucket o' water on him. Anyhow, men shouldn't smell sweet like flowers."

"What's wrong with flowers?"

"Nothing, for a bee. For bed I want one o' these." Ygritte made to grab the front of his breeches. - Jon V, ASOS

"Who is Ygritte?" Donal Noye asked pointedly.

"A woman of the free folk." How could he explain Ygritte to them? She's warm and smart and funny and she can kiss a man or slit his throat. - Jon VI, ASOS

When his eyelids fluttered open, he was wrapped in thick wool and floating. He could not seem to move, but that did not matter. For a time he dreamed that Ygritte was with him, tending him with gentle hands. Finally he closed his eyes and slept. - Jon VI, ASOS

Should we simply laugh at all the other oddities?

Ygritte punched his arm. "You know nothing, Jon Snow. I'm half a fish, I'll have you know." - Jon V, ASOS

She punched him. "That's vile. Would you bed your sister?" - Jon III, ASOS

"She even claimed we were kin. She told me a story . . ." - Jon VII, ACOK

Or maybe I'll make the argument that Ygritte is no winter rose, and Jon had no desire to steal her.

Jon sat up. "Ygritte, I never stole you."

"Aye, you did. You jumped down the mountain and killed Orell, and afore I could get my axe you had a knife at my throat. I thought you'd have me then, or kill me, or maybe both, but you never did. And when I told you the tale o' Bael the Bard and how he plucked the rose o' Winterfell, I thought you'd know to pluck me then for certain, but you didn't. You know nothing, Jon Snow." - Jon III, ASOS

We're still waiting on that.

+.+.+

"I think we had best change the plan," Jon Snow said.

They talked for the best part of two hours.

Horse and Rory had replaced Fulk and Mully at the armory door with the change of watch. "With me," Jon told them, when the time came. Ghost would have followed as well, but as the wolf came padding after them, Jon grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and wrestled him back inside. Borroq might be amongst those gathering at the Shieldhall. The last thing he needed just now was his wolf savaging the skinchanger's boar.

+.+.+

When Jon and Tormund entered, a sound went through the hall, like wasps stirring in a nest. The wildlings outnumbered the crows by five to one, judging by how little black he saw.

This is only inside the Shieldhall, but it's worth mentioning that when Jon is stabbed the wildlings badly outnumber the watchmen at Castle Black. Not clear whether Bowen Marsh has a plan for that.

+.+.+

"I summoned you to make plans for the relief of Hardhome," Jon Snow began. "Thousands of the free folk are gathered there, trapped and starving, and we have had reports of dead things in the wood." To his left he saw Marsh and Yarwyck. Othell was surrounded by his builders, whilst Bowen had Wick Whittlestick, Left Hand Lew, and Alf of Runnymudd beside him.

We have confirmation on Bowen and Wick, I'm guessing Lew and Runnymudd are the other mutineers.

+.+.+

Borroq leaned against a wall in a dark corner. Mercifully, his boar was nowhere in evidence.

Then why is Ghost agitated? Jon?

+.+.+

Two of Queen Selyse's knights had come as well, Jon saw. Ser Narbert and Ser Benethon stood near the door at the foot of the hall. But the rest of the queen's men were conspicuous in their absence.

They're off stealing The Wildling Formerly Known as Princess.

+.+.+

A flash of red in the back of the hall caught Jon's eye. Lady Melisandre had arrived.

Almost like she was expecting that raven.

+.+.+

"But now I find I cannot go to Hardhome. The ranging will be led by Tormund Giantsbane, known to you all. I have promised him as many men as he requires."

"And where will you be, crow?" Borroq thundered. "Hiding here in Castle Black with your white dog?"

"No. I ride south." Then Jon read them the letter Ramsay Snow had written.

The Shieldhall went mad.

Jon will be murdered before Tormund can leave, so if Melisandre is correct and everyone at Hardhome is doomed, it shouldn't include the Horn-blower.

+.+.+

"The Night's Watch takes no part in the wars of the Seven Kingdoms," Jon reminded them when some semblance of quiet had returned. "It is not for us to oppose the Bastard of Bolton, to avenge Stannis Baratheon, to defend his widow and his daughter. This creature who makes cloaks from the skins of women has sworn to cut my heart out, and I mean to make him answer for those words … but I will not ask my brothers to forswear their vows.

"The Night's Watch will make for Hardhome. I ride to Winterfell alone, unless …" Jon paused. "… is there any man here who will come stand with me?"

The roar was all he could have hoped for, the tumult so loud that the two old shields tumbled from the walls. Soren Shieldbreaker was on his feet, the Wanderer as well. Toregg the Tall, Brogg, Harle the Huntsman and Harle the Handsome both, Ygon Oldfather, Blind Doss, even the Great Walrus. I have my swords, thought Jon Snow, and we are coming for you, Bastard.

This is a hard one, because on one hand we love Jon the character for his big heart, love of family, and constant resistance to injustice, but on the other hand I don't think he should be doing this right now.

I don't view this in the same way I view Ned rebelling against a tyrannical monarchy, or refusing to serve Robert when he wants to commit cruel acts. This is personal vendetta.

Yes, there's the obvious parallel with Brandon Stark attempting to save and avenge Lyanna, but Ramsay has told Jon that Arya has escaped, and Jon is not remotely focused on that. There's no plan whatsoever with regards to finding Arya. Like, come on.

+.+.+

Yarwyck and Marsh were slipping out, he saw, and all their men behind them. It made no matter. He did not need them now. He did not want them. No man can ever say I made my brothers break their vows. If this is oathbreaking, the crime is mine and mine alone.

What's the punishment for oathbreaking, Jon?

+.+.+

Melisandre was gone, he realized, and so were the queen's knights. I should have gone to Selyse first. She has the right to know her lord is dead.

Honestly? Inexcusable. Imagine Catelyn and one of her children finding out Ned died because a bunch of soldiers were screaming about it in a dining hall somewhere.

Jon's a little too consumed with how this letter affects Jon, and what kills me is that if he went to Selyse first, Melisandre would have told him Stannis is not dead.

+.+.+

Horse and Rory fell in beside Jon as he left the Shieldhall. I should talk with Melisandre after I see the queen, he thought. If she could see a raven in a storm, she can find Ramsay Snow for me.

Again.

It's a battle of the bastards!

+.+.+

Then he heard the shouting … and a roar so loud it seemed to shake the Wall. "That come from Hardin's Tower, m'lord," Horse reported. He might have said more, but the scream cut him off.

Val, was Jon's first thought. But that was no woman's scream. That is a man in mortal agony. He broke into a run. Horse and Rory raced after him. "Is it wights?" asked Rory. Jon wondered. Could his corpses have escaped their chains?

You mustn't forget the corpses, everyone.

+.+.+

The screaming had stopped by the time they came to Hardin's Tower, but Wun Weg Wun Dar Wun was still roaring. The giant was dangling a bloody corpse by one leg, the same way Arya used to dangle her doll when she was small, swinging it like a morningstar when menaced by vegetables. Arya never tore her dolls to pieces, though. The dead man's sword arm was yards away, the snow beneath it turning red.

Wait until you meet the new Arya.

"Just leave me be." She wouldn't, though, so finally Arya took the doll away from her, ripped it open, and pulled the rag stuffing out of its belly with a finger. "Now he really looks like a soldier!" she said, before she threw the doll in a brook. - Arya XII, ASOS

+.+.+

He swung the dead knight against the grey stone of the tower, again and again and again, until the man's head was red and pulpy as a summer melon. The knight's cloak flapped in the cold air. Of white wool it had been, bordered in cloth-of-silver and patterned with blue stars. Blood and bone were flying everywhere.

Men poured from the surrounding keeps and towers. Northmen, free folk, queen's men … "Form a line," Jon Snow commanded them. "Keep them back. Everyone, but especially the queen's men." The dead man was Ser Patrek of King's Mountain; his head was largely gone, but his heraldry was as distinctive as his face.

Rest in peace, Ser Patrek of Dallas Cowboy Mountain. Too bad that wildling wasn't worth it.

By the way, Preston Jacobs doesn't believe this guy is dead either. I'm not joking.

+.+.+

Oh no.

+.+.+

A horn, I need a horn. He saw the glint of steel, turned toward it. "No blades!" he screamed. "Wick, put that knife …"

… away, he meant to say. When Wick Whittlestick slashed at his throat, the word turned into a grunt. Jon twisted from the knife, just enough so it barely grazed his skin. He cut me. When he put his hand to the side of his neck, blood welled between his fingers. "Why?"

"For the Watch." Wick slashed at him again. This time Jon caught his wrist and bent his arm back until he dropped the dagger. The gangling steward backed away, his hands upraised as if to say, Not me, it was not me.

+.+.+

Jon reached for Longclaw, but his fingers had grown stiff and clumsy. Somehow he could not seem to get the sword free of its scabbard.

He began to flex his hand, opening and closing the fingers. If he let his sword hand stiffen and grow clumsy, it well might be the end of him, he knew. - Jon II, ACOK

+.+.+

Then Bowen Marsh stood there before him, tears running down his cheeks. "For the Watch." He punched Jon in the belly. When he pulled his hand away, the dagger stayed where he had buried it.

+.+.+

Jon fell to his knees. He found the dagger's hilt and wrenched it free. In the cold night air the wound was smoking. "Ghost," he whispered.

The fighting will be done and someone will tell me whether I'm to live or die. "Lady," she whimpered softly, wondering if she would meet her wolf again when she was dead. - Sansa VII, ACOK

"Jeyne?" Robb grabbed the edge of the table and forced himself to stand. "Mother," he said, "Grey Wind . . ." - Catelyn VII, ASOS

+.+.+

Pain washed over him. Stick them with the pointy end. When the third dagger took him between the shoulder blades, he gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow. He never felt the fourth knife. Only the cold …

<- The Dragontamer

When he raised his whip, he saw that the lash was burning. His hand as well. All of him, all of him was burning.

Final thoughts:

Beware the Ides of March!

If there's a silver lining, while Jon is being stabbed to death with daggers in the dark, he recalls Arya's pointy end.

AGOT: Jon II -> Daenerys II

"First lesson," Jon said. "Stick them with the pointy end."

Arya gave him a whap on the arm with the flat of her blade. The blow stung, but Jon found himself grinning like an idiot. "I know which end to use," Arya said. - Jon II, AGOT

AGOT: Arya II -> Daenerys III

"Arya, what did you think to do with this … Needle? Who did you hope to skewer? Your sister? Septa Mordane? Do you know the first thing about sword fighting?"

All she could think of was the lesson Jon had given her. "Stick them with the pointy end," she blurted out. - Arya II, AGOT

Yeah Arya, who? Who did you hope to skewer?

Anyway, that sucked. Would not recommend. Bye Jon.

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #adwd #jon xiii

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