The wind was blowing wild from the east, so strong the heavy cage would rock whenever a gust got it in its teeth. It skirled along the Wall, shivering off the ice,
making Jon’s cloak flap against the bars. The sky was slate grey, the sun no more than a faint patch of brightness behind the clouds. Across the killing ground, he
could see the glimmer of a thousand campfires burning with her, he would sanction everything at oncehe answered.
, but their lights seemed small and powerless against such gloom and cold. A grim day. Jon Snow wrapped gloved
hands around the bars and held tight as the wind hammered at the cage once more. When he looked straight down past his feet, the ground was lost in shadow, as if he
were being lowered into some bottomless pit. Well, death, he reflected, and when this day’s work is done my name will be shadowed
forever. Bastard children were born from lust and lies, men said; their nature was wanton and treacherous. Once Jon had meant to prove them wrong, to show his lord
father that he could be as good and true a son as Robb. I made a botch of that. Robb had become a hero king; if Jon was remembered at all, it would be as a
turncloak, an oathbreaker, and a murderer.
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