Fandom: Game of Thrones

Characters: Jon Snow, Catelyn, Arya, Sansa, Maester Luwin, OCs

Author: m_findlow

Rating: PG

Length: 1,431 words

Content notes: none

Author notes: Written for Challenge 240 - Feed

Summary: All outcasts eventually find a way to make it through.


Catelyn cast a baleful glare at Jon, and then at the white direwolf pup. 'That thing is not to come anywhere inside, do you understand?'

Jon nodded. 'Yes, my Lady.' The hypocrisy was something he'd come to live with and accept. It was one thing for Lady Stark's children to sit there in the great hall, playing with their new charges, but it was another thing entirely for him. Lady Catelyn suffered his presence at their table for meals only because her husband would have but no other way. Theon was hardly better liked than he, but at least he didn't openly shame lady Catelyn, a living, breathing product of her husband's infidelity.

Jon picked up the tiny ball of white fur, which had begun to scamper away towards its brothers and sisters, looking to join in. Like him, it too would only be allowed to enjoy the company of its siblings when the moment was right. As he walked out of the great hall, feeling the wintery chill of the breeze outside, he knew what he had to do. Inside the others had been fussing over their new direwolves, begging Maester Luwin to advise them on what direwolves eat.

'They eat meat, stupid,' Arya had said when Sansa asked the question of their Maester.

'Arya!' Sansa had cried at the insult.

She'd given a quick glance up at Jon and then towards her father, knowing she had no alternative but to look contrite and apologise.

'They'll be missing their mother's milk,' Maester Luwin replied. 'Not until they're older will they be able to stomach raw flesh.' The Maester had left and brought back a series of long glass bottles, and sent Hodor to the kitchens for a pail of milk. It was while they were waiting that Catelyn had dismissed Jon.

Even now, out in the cool air again, the snowy creature didn't make a sound. The others had squeaked and yelped the entire journey home, all except the one tucked between his leather jerkin and his cloak as he rode atop his horse. Perhaps it was too weak to cry, or perhaps like him, it knew it was the outcast, and better off to keep quiet. Weak and the runt of the litter, it might not survive. Those had been Theon's teasing words, driven by jealousy now that he was the one going without, even if he was the eldest. But Jon had to hope it would survive. There was a reason it wasn't with the others, but it had done enough to make itself known. It still wanted to survive. He had. So could it, with the right amount of love.

He stopped by a small stall within the castle walls, greeting Joselyn who was always on hand with fresh produce for Winterfell's residents: loaves of bread, fresh eggs and goats milk, apples, potatoes and onions. Her husband harvested the fields and sold the surplus to outlying fastholds, but the best was always reserved for the Lord and his people. Jon often stopped by after training with Ser Roderick to snaffle a cup of milk.

'Getting big now, Jon,' she said. 'You'll be as tall as Robb soon.'

He gave a little chuckle at that. He was shorted than Robb by nearly a foot, and not likely to gain much height. He was certainly never going to be tall and handsome like Robb.

'Who's that little feller you've got there?' she asked, spying the bundle of fur tucked in his arm.

He realised he hadn't given it a name. Its fur was white as snow, but there was already one Snow in Winterfell; they didn't need another. He'd never been good at fancy names, and calling it after one of great lords or knights from history would probably get him laughed at.

'Ghost,' he said, the idea dropping on him suddenly.

'Aye,' she nodded. 'And is little Ghost planning on haunting the castle?'

'He won't be little for long,' Jon replied. Though a direwolf was likely to give someone a fright. Those reddish eyes were unsettling on a puppy, but on a full blown wolf they'd be terrifying, assuming he survived of course, he reminded himself. What would Lady Catelyn do with it then? Probably banish the pair of them from the castle. It was likely to be his own fate once he was sixteen and a man grown. Another problem for another time.

'Well, he seems sweet enough for now,' she said, reaching out and giving the pup a little tickle of its fur. 'Assume you'll be wanting some milk to feed it?'

'Please,' he replied.

'Take some bread as well,' she said, passing him a small loaf. 'Been out riding all morning and I'll bet you've not eaten a thing. Any wonder you're smaller than Robb.'

'Thank you,' he said, taking the loaf in one hand and the tin cup of milk in the other.

'Now, you go on over there to the smith and get him to warm that up for you,' she instructed, pointing towards the blacksmith's workshop. Jon frowned at her.

'You can't give a babe cold milk, for heaven's sake!' she cried. 'What does the Maester teach you lot?' She shook her head, shooing him away.

Jon chatted with the blacksmith whilst the tin cup sat beside the smith's bellows in front of the ovens, the heat permeating the thin metal and warming the milk inside it whilst he watched the blacksmith at work, carefully forging a blade on his anvil. Arya had been wanting a sword of her own for a while now. Perhaps the smith could fashion something small and light for her, so that she would stop trying to steal tourney swords from the training yard, and hiding them under her bed. He nibbled at the bread, keeping one eye on the curious little pup as it padded around his feet, making sure the smith didn't trip over him.

'Warm milk,' the smith muttered, eyeing off the concoction once it was done. 'Wretched stuff if you ask me. I'll take an ale any day. Even that muck they serve down south.'

Jon took Ghost with him to the training yard and settled down in one of the sheds where they kept equipment. He was certain this was as far from Lady Catelyn's gaze as he could be, without leaving the castle grounds, except perhaps to go hide in the godswood, but he knew his father would be there and didn't want to disturb him.

He set the cup on the ground, and Ghost along with it. The direwolf pup gave it a little sniff, before wandering away. Jon pulled him back and set him down in front of it again. 'It's for you,' he said.

The pup took no interest in the offering, so Jon sat down beside both of them, scooping the creature into his arms. 'You have to eat something,' he told it, staring into its eyes. Ghost just poked his head forward, trying to press the tip of his wet nose against Jon's. It was hard for those red eyes to incite fear when they were attached to such an inquisitive face. He cradled the pup in his arm and held the edge of the cup to Ghost's muzzle. 'Please,' he begged as the direwolf turned his head away. 'I've not got a bottle or a teat you can suckle.' Ghost licked his had as he tried to pet him, giving him an idea.

He dipped his finger in the warm liquid and held it to Ghost's mouth. He lapped at the finger, tasting the sweetness on it. Jon dipped it in again, letting Ghost nibble the tip, his coarse tongue tickling as it wrapped around the digit.

'So, you do like the taste,' Jon murmured. He let Ghost lick at wet, sticky fingers a little bit longer before setting him down again next to the cup. This time he took in the scent of the liquid inside and picked his nose in lapping at the warm sweetness, making little sloshing sounds as he drank it.

Jon smiled, pleased to have finally convinced the pup to drink. He continued lapping the cup long after there was nothing left inside it, the taste still on his tongue, knocking it over on its side to get more of his muzzle inside. Jon picked him back up as he licked his jowls and then reached out to lick Jon's face, just in case it also tasted good.

'I think you and me are going to be just fine,' Jon said.