Jon walks up the stairs to Bran's room, with Ghost following him closely behind. He's a bit worried, thinking this might the the last time he ever sees Bran. But as soon as he gets through the door...
Jon: Fuuuuuuck.
... He sees Cat Stark sitting there with Bran, like she's been doing non-stop forever. She gives him the evil eye. The super evil eye. The super duper evil eye. That's why he hadn't bothered to come here before. Because that bitch. He had hoped that maybe she'd take a break or something eventually. But nope.
Cat: Get out of here! Leave!
Jon: I want to see my brother!
Cat: No, you bastard! Leave! Get out! GIT! I SAID GIT, BOY, GIT!
Jon: Oh fuck that shit.
Jon walks in.
Ghost stays behind, but hears Bran's unnamed direwolf howl from outside the room's window, where it has been ever since Bran has been in bed.
Ghost: *slight bark* [Translation: Yo, whattup?]
Bran's Unnamed Direwolf: *howl* [Translation: Ah, nothin' much, nothin' much. You know me dawg, chillin'. Protecting my boy here.]
Cat: I'm calling the guards!
Jon: Fine, whatever. Do that.
Jon keeps walking in and goes up to Bran. He leans in for a hug. Cat does nothing, just like Jon thought. He straight called her bluff like a playa.
Jon: Don't die little brother. We're all waiting for you to wake up. I know how much you were looking forward to going south, just like how I have to go north now to the wall.
Cat: *sniff* Oh Bran! Bran! I wished that you would stay here at Winterfell... and now my wish came true! But it's not at all like I wanted. It's just like when you wish something to an evil genie but they're super literal or they fuck you over with some sort of trick that goes against the spirit of the very wish. The Pussycat Dolls warned us all about this with "When I Grow Up," but I failed to listen!
She breaks into full-on sobbing.
Jon: Oh, come on now. There, there. It's not your fault.
She immediately snaps and transforms from grieving mother to stone-hearted (ha!) bitch.
Cat: I KNOW IT'S NOT MY FAULT, YOU FUCKING BASTARD. IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN YOU WHO FELL AND WAS CRIPPLED. OR BETTER YET... DIED.
Ghost: *whimper* [Translation: Dude, let's get out].
Jon walks away backwards very slowly out of the room.
He eventually exits and finds his way to the yard of Winterfell. Things are crazy here. Lots of folks are packing up and preparing for King's Landing. Others still are preparing for the separate trip up to Castle Black and the Wall.
Robb: Oh hey Jon, Benjen has been looking all over for your ass. He wanted to get going an hour ago.
Jon: Ah, I've got a couple things to do first.
Robb: Okay, cool. If I bump into him again I'll tell him I didn't even see you. Let you have some time, man. Hey, you check on Bran like you say you were going to?
Jon: Yep.
Robb: How was mom?
Jon: See You Next Tuesday.
Robb: Huh?
Jon: I mean a lovely woman. So kind.
Robb: Ah, well... I'm going to miss you, Jon. I guess the next time I see you you'll be wearing all black like some kind of goth kid who's all into dragons and the dead.
Jon: Yes, because we will indeed see each other again.
They hug it out. For the last time ever.
Robb: Wait... what did that narrator say?
Nothing!!!
Moving on, Jon goes to check on his best buddy in the whole world - his little sister, Arya. She's packing bags with the help of Nymeria. Well, I mean technically she's packing the bag alone and Nymeria's version of "help" is sitting on everything and getting hair on it all.
Jon: Shit, shouldn't you have packed by now?
Arya: I did, but Septa Mordane said it wasn't good enough so now I have to do it again.
Jon: Hey, that's cool. It actually allows me an opportunity to give you something you can take with you. But it's a secret. You can't let anyone know about this... okay?
Arya: A secret? Awesome!
Jon: Promise not to tell Sansa.
Arya: That trick-ass narc? Haha, no way.
Arya sends Nymeria to the door to guard it, and then closes the door.
Arya: Okay bro, give me that sweet weed!
Jon: What? No! That's not it. I got you this!
Jon pulls out a little small sword.
Arya: Oh, sweet! A dangerous and sharp weapon! Just what every small child needs and desires.
Jon: I had it made especially for you. It's like the ones in Braavos. You're going to need to practice with it every day until you become an expert. I'd give you more complex instructions than that... but the basic gist is that you stab people with this pointy end here. Until they die.
Arya: Yeah, I knew that part, you condescending dick. But seriously... you're like the best brother ever.
They hug.
Jon: Oh, and before I go... you've got to remember that the best swords always have a name. Can you guess what I named this sword for you? I named it after your favorite thing!
Arya: Wow! You named my sword, "Bashing Septa Mordane's Head in With a Brick and then Watching the Snow Fall on Her Dead Body!" That's cool AF, but it's also kind of a long name. Perhaps we need to go with something shorter.
Jon: Uh, no. It's called "Needle."
Arya: Ahhhhhh, I see what you did there. You were going the ironic route. Sorry, usually we sync up on jokes like that. Do stuff like say the same word together in unison. I guess we were on a different wavelength today.
Jon: Fuuuuuuck.
... He sees Cat Stark sitting there with Bran, like she's been doing non-stop forever. She gives him the evil eye. The super evil eye. The super duper evil eye. That's why he hadn't bothered to come here before. Because that bitch. He had hoped that maybe she'd take a break or something eventually. But nope.
Cat: Get out of here! Leave!
Jon: I want to see my brother!
Cat: No, you bastard! Leave! Get out! GIT! I SAID GIT, BOY, GIT!
Jon: Oh fuck that shit.
Jon walks in.
Ghost stays behind, but hears Bran's unnamed direwolf howl from outside the room's window, where it has been ever since Bran has been in bed.
Ghost: *slight bark* [Translation: Yo, whattup?]
Bran's Unnamed Direwolf: *howl* [Translation: Ah, nothin' much, nothin' much. You know me dawg, chillin'. Protecting my boy here.]
Cat: I'm calling the guards!
Jon: Fine, whatever. Do that.
Jon keeps walking in and goes up to Bran. He leans in for a hug. Cat does nothing, just like Jon thought. He straight called her bluff like a playa.
Jon: Don't die little brother. We're all waiting for you to wake up. I know how much you were looking forward to going south, just like how I have to go north now to the wall.
Cat: *sniff* Oh Bran! Bran! I wished that you would stay here at Winterfell... and now my wish came true! But it's not at all like I wanted. It's just like when you wish something to an evil genie but they're super literal or they fuck you over with some sort of trick that goes against the spirit of the very wish. The Pussycat Dolls warned us all about this with "When I Grow Up," but I failed to listen!
She breaks into full-on sobbing.
Jon: Oh, come on now. There, there. It's not your fault.
She immediately snaps and transforms from grieving mother to stone-hearted (ha!) bitch.
Cat: I KNOW IT'S NOT MY FAULT, YOU FUCKING BASTARD. IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN YOU WHO FELL AND WAS CRIPPLED. OR BETTER YET... DIED.
Ghost: *whimper* [Translation: Dude, let's get out].
Jon walks away backwards very slowly out of the room.
He eventually exits and finds his way to the yard of Winterfell. Things are crazy here. Lots of folks are packing up and preparing for King's Landing. Others still are preparing for the separate trip up to Castle Black and the Wall.
Robb: Oh hey Jon, Benjen has been looking all over for your ass. He wanted to get going an hour ago.
Jon: Ah, I've got a couple things to do first.
Robb: Okay, cool. If I bump into him again I'll tell him I didn't even see you. Let you have some time, man. Hey, you check on Bran like you say you were going to?
Jon: Yep.
Robb: How was mom?
Jon: See You Next Tuesday.
Robb: Huh?
Jon: I mean a lovely woman. So kind.
Robb: Ah, well... I'm going to miss you, Jon. I guess the next time I see you you'll be wearing all black like some kind of goth kid who's all into dragons and the dead.
Jon: Yes, because we will indeed see each other again.
They hug it out. For the last time ever.
Robb: Wait... what did that narrator say?
Nothing!!!
Moving on, Jon goes to check on his best buddy in the whole world - his little sister, Arya. She's packing bags with the help of Nymeria. Well, I mean technically she's packing the bag alone and Nymeria's version of "help" is sitting on everything and getting hair on it all.
Jon: Shit, shouldn't you have packed by now?
Arya: I did, but Septa Mordane said it wasn't good enough so now I have to do it again.
Jon: Hey, that's cool. It actually allows me an opportunity to give you something you can take with you. But it's a secret. You can't let anyone know about this... okay?
Arya: A secret? Awesome!
Jon: Promise not to tell Sansa.
Arya: That trick-ass narc? Haha, no way.
Arya sends Nymeria to the door to guard it, and then closes the door.
Arya: Okay bro, give me that sweet weed!
Jon: What? No! That's not it. I got you this!
Jon pulls out a little small sword.
Arya: Oh, sweet! A dangerous and sharp weapon! Just what every small child needs and desires.
Jon: I had it made especially for you. It's like the ones in Braavos. You're going to need to practice with it every day until you become an expert. I'd give you more complex instructions than that... but the basic gist is that you stab people with this pointy end here. Until they die.
Arya: Yeah, I knew that part, you condescending dick. But seriously... you're like the best brother ever.
They hug.
Jon: Oh, and before I go... you've got to remember that the best swords always have a name. Can you guess what I named this sword for you? I named it after your favorite thing!
Arya: Wow! You named my sword, "Bashing Septa Mordane's Head in With a Brick and then Watching the Snow Fall on Her Dead Body!" That's cool AF, but it's also kind of a long name. Perhaps we need to go with something shorter.
Jon: Uh, no. It's called "Needle."
Arya: Ahhhhhh, I see what you did there. You were going the ironic route. Sorry, usually we sync up on jokes like that. Do stuff like say the same word together in unison. I guess we were on a different wavelength today.
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