The King of Winters

Chapter-118

Jon

That day Jon called the maester to him once again when the first light was breaking outside the castle of Stone Hedge. "Any word from the prince?”

The maester shook his head, afraid and forlorn. "None, My lord hand," he said. "My lord perhaps it is time we accept the truth. There's been too many..."

Jon stared at the platter of oakcakes, honey, and blood sausage they'd brought him to break his fast. Another sleepless night had left his nerves raw, and the very sight of food sickened him. "Quiet!" Jon said silencing him at once. "There has been no reply from Mooton or Darry or anyone east of this fucking river?"

"None," the maester said. "Neither from Lychester, nor from Goodbrook."

"Send more birds."

"It will not serve. Those will bring no response as well. By the time the birds reach-"

"Send them." Jon banged his fist on the oaken table that the platter of food cluttered with the strength of the blow. He looked back at the maester, angry. "Do you want to die? I know the truth as well as you do now. Some times it's better to treat it false."

The grey man was unconvinced. He is just afraid that they are alone here without Prince Aegon, Jon realised. "Who do you serve, maester?"

"You, my lord," the man said. "You and the realm. And to the King."

"Aye, you do," Jon told him. "So do it for the sake of the realm and the King."

The man looked like he wanted to say something more. But instead he swallowed the words he meant to use towards him and instead gave a small, weak nod. "As you wish then, my lord."

As he turned to leave, Jon stopped him. "Send Ser Gilbert in while you leave."

"My lord," Maester Haldon said and left.

Jon stooped to scoop up the goblet that had been knocked off the table when he had slammed his fist upon. The cold of autumn was getting more noticeable as he advanced further north. The fires in the chambers of Jonos Bracken had died out. He should have a fire but Jon didn't want to wake his squire just yet. It was even better if the boy didn't hear whatever that's being said by him and maester Haldon in private. One way or another someone always speaks and it would do a great harm to Rhaegar and the Targaryens should someone who's not supposed to hear it hears it.

Ser Gilbert entered the chambers as he was feeding the fire in the brazier. "My lord," he said.

Jon turned his head to look back at him. "A moment," he said, throwing in a couple of logs. He returned back to his table and sat down, bidding Ser Gilbert to sit. "Wine?"

"No, thank you," Ser Gilbert said.

"Any reports from your scouting?"

Ser Gilbert shook his head solemnly. "Nothing that we don't know before. Everyone speak the same sad tale and the bloody singers are at it as well. My men rode for many leagues to the east. There's only the talks of the presence of rebels, nothing else."

Jon signed. "I hoped so. We have no hope of holding here," he told Farring. "If there was anyone left we would have seen them by now. Or at the very least heard from some." It was that what concerned him the most. Prince Aegon had left with a large host around him on top of a menacing dragon. It had been so hard to believe that none survived when they met Stark that it had taken him months to believe that in the end.