Day 17: Women in Jon's life
She does look a bit like Arya, Jon thought. Starved and skinny, but her hair’s the same color, and her eyes. “I am told you have been asking after me. I am—”
“—Jon Snow.” The girl tossed her braid back. “My house and yours are bound in blood and honor. Hear me, kinsman. My uncle Cregan is hard upon my trail. You must not let him take me back to Karhold.”
Jon was staring. I know this girl. There was something about her eyes, the way she held herself, the way she talked. For a moment the memory eluded him. Then it came. “Alys Karstark.”
That brought the ghost of a smile to her lips. “I was not sure you would remember. I was six the last time you saw me.”
“You came to Winterfell with your father.” The father Robb beheaded. “I don’t recall what for.”
She blushed. “So I could meet your brother. Oh, there was some other pretext, but that was the real reason. I was almost of an age with Robb, and my father thought we might make a match. There was a feast. I danced with you and your brother both. He was very courteous and said that I danced beautifully. You were sullen. My father said that was to be expected in a bastard.”
“I remember.” It was only half a lie.
“You’re still a little sullen,” the girl said, “but I will forgive you that if you will save me from my uncle.”
[...] Alys knelt before him, clutching the black cloak. “You are my only hope, Lord Snow. In your father’s name, I beg you. Protect me.” (Jon IX, ADWD)
“Daggers in the dark. I know. You will forgive my doubts, my lady. A grey girl on a dying horse, fleeing from a marriage, that was what you said.”
“You were not right. Alys is not Arya.” (Jon X, ADWD)
Alys Karstark slipped her arm through Jon’s. “How much longer, Lord Snow? If I’m to be buried beneath this snow, I’d like to die a woman wed.”
“Soon, my lady,” Jon assured her. “Soon.”
And Melisandre said, “Let them come forth, who would be joined.” The flames cast her shadow on the Wall behind her, and her ruby gleamed against the paleness of her throat.
Jon turned to Alys Karstark. “My lady. Are you ready?”
The girl smiled in a way that reminded Jon so much of his little sister that it almost broke his heart. “Let him be scared of me.” The snowflakes were melting on her cheeks, but her hair was wrapped in a swirl of lace that Satin had found somewhere, and the snow had begun to collect there, giving her a frosty crown. Her cheeks were flushed and red, and her eyes sparkled.
“Winter’s lady.” Jon squeezed her hand.
The Magnar of Thenn stood waiting by the fire, clad as if for battle, in fur and leather and bronze scales, a bronze sword at his hip. His receding hair made him look older than his years, but as he turned to watch his bride approach, Jon could see the boy in him. His eyes were big as walnuts, though whether it was the fire, the priestess, or the woman that had put the fear in him Jon could not say. Alys was more right than she knew.
“Who brings this woman to be wed?” asked Melisandre.
“I do,” said Jon. “Now comes Alys of House Karstark, a woman grown and flowered, of noble blood and birth.” He gave her hand one last squeeze and stepped back to join the others. (Jon X, ADWD)
[...] The sight made Lady Alys smile. “Do you dance often, here at Castle Black?”
“Every time we have a wedding, my lady.”
“You could dance with me, you know. It would be only courteous. You danced with me anon.”
“When we were children.” She tore off a bit of bread and threw it at him. “As you know well.”
“My lady should dance with her husband.”
“My Magnar is not one for dancing, I fear. If you will not dance with me, at least pour me some of the mulled wine.”
“As you command.” He signaled for a flagon. (Jon X, ADWD)
