The Iron Thorn | Theon Greyjoy

19.

Massey

The dining hall was set up quite differently for the evening. I wasn't supposed to sit next to Theon or Robb, or even my brother. My father was engrossed in conversation with a wide array of men, from Lord Stark to the King, to Rodrik. So, I sat next to Sansa and her friends. They spent most of their dinner fawning over the Prince. I can't blame them. If I were that young, the Prince might have had the same effect on me. I ate some, then replenished the food I had eaten already and excused myself from the table, taking my full plate with me. There was someone missing who I intended to pay a visit to, and I had a sneaking suspicion as to where I may find him. With the door to the main yard as my target, I marched forward, dodging people left and right until I reached one that I couldn't. He appeared so suddenly that I had to shift my weight entirely to avoid dropping my full plate on him, but I managed to keep it intact.

   I thought I'd know him once I first saw him, and I most certainly did. He towered over me and struck up a conversation as though we had already been speaking for hours.

   "And you're the sister?"

   The look in his eyes was like nothing I had seen before. There was confidence practically seeping out of him, and for good reason. His hair was golden. His clothing matched his hair, clothing that was partially unraveled to expose the top of  his chest. He was so striking that I lost myself looking him over and hesitated replying.

   "Yes. Ser Jaime, I take it?" I cleared my throat, and he raised his eyebrows with a smirk as if to say don't you know? "Massey Bryer. It's a pleasure to meet you, my lord."

   "You're a pretty young thing. I see now why your brother worries so much about you," he said in a low voice with a hint of taunting painted on his face. "Shame you didn't travel south with your family."

   He didn't break eye contact as he spoke, which only made me more nervous. Still, I knew that he didn't say these things to compliment me. There was no warmth behind his words. He was only entertaining himself. Broden must have known this too because I noted him off to the side, seated at a table and craning his neck to see what was transpiring between Ser Jaime and I.

   "You're too kind, Ser. Please, let me know if I can be of any assistance to you while your family is here."

   "Quite the helpful lot, House Bryer."

"Yes," I muttered with a hint of irritation. I then excused myself with a dishonest smile, vexed yet no doubt red in the cheeks, and walked outside to find Jon alone in the practice yard. He was sitting on a wall, sword in hand.

   "Hello," I started, still a ways away.

   "Massey. What are you doing out here?"

   "I came to find you, of course." I held out the plate, which he took with silent gratitude.

   "You shouldn't be out here. They'll miss you."

   "Please," I scoffed as I moved closer to him. "There's another hundred people that anyone who is looking for me can talk to."

   "I meant your father," he explained through a mouthful of food.

   I shrugged. He was probably right, but I didn't intend on staying for too long. I wanted to tell him that I hated that he wasn't allowed at the feast. I hated how they treated him as though he weren't Ned Stark's son. Like he was any less worthy than Robb. But, the look in his eyes when he saw me walking away from the feast and toward him said he already knew I felt that way. He didn't need pity, just a friend. We exchanged meek smiles as I leaned against the wall that he sat on.

   "You look nice."

   "Thank you. I was saving this dress for when I saw my father again." I fanned out the ends of my gown as I spoke.

   "It's lovely, really." There were a few moments of silence before he spoke again, his words making my heart skip a beat. Not in the good way. "I'm going to join the Nights Watch."

   "What?"

   "I've spoken to my uncle. I think it's where I belong."

   "Jon, you cannot mean that."

   "I do."

   "You can't," I demanded. In true Jon fashion, he didn't budge. "Why?"

   "I have no place here."

   "Winterfell is your home."

   "Depends on who you would ask."

   "Jon—" I began to plead with a sadness in my voice, but he only shook his head. "You can...you can come to my home. I'll go with you. I'll leave Winterfell. My father will understand—"

   "Massey," he interrupted sternly.

I tried one last point before conceding. "Who will help me train Arya?"

He smiled, but still looked despondent. "I must do this."

   He reached out and grabbed my hand, holding onto it gently. His touch was foreign, but it felt familiar all the same. I took several moments to truly soak in his words. It was something I couldn't change, couldn't fix. Hate it as I may, it was something I had to accept.

"You are the best person I know," I told him in complete honesty. "It was an honor to have you as a friend, no matter how short of a time."

"I'll never be too far away to be your friend."

   A tear had rolled down my face, but thankfully, there wasn't much light around to illuminate it before it fell. I bit down on the inside of my cheek and nodded. I leaned forward and raised my arms to pull him into a hug. What felt like forever later, I was still clinging onto him when he cleared his throat and indicated for me to pull back. Approaching from behind me, I spotted who I knew upon first glance to be Tyrion Lannister. He was an unmistakably distinctive man.

   "I've always wanted to see The Wall," he announced without provocation.

   "You're Tyrion Lannister," Jon said. "The Queen's brother."

   "My greatest accomplishment." He turned his eyes to me. "I don't believe I know you."

   "Massey Bryer, my lord. Raymun is my father."

   "Ah yes, and the tall one is your brother. Brandon?"

   "Broden," I corrected him cautiously.

   "That's it. Tell me, was he always such a tight ass, or is it just the capital working on him already?"

   "Unfortunately, my lord, I do believe he's been that way since birth."

   He let loose a genuine laugh, then turned to Jon. "And you, you're Ned Stark's bastard, aren't you?"

   Jon looked entirely annoyed and glanced at me. I shrugged my shoulders at him, and held his upper arm in my hand. "I really must be going now, but it was lovely to meet you, my lord. Jon, if you should need anything at all—"

   "I'll be alright, Massey."

   "Very well. Goodnight, then," I said before heading back to the feast. "Again, a pleasure," I told Lord Tyrion before walking out of earshot of whatever conversation they were about to have.