i

Jon embraces his mother, instinctively burying his head in the fur lined collar of her heavy winter cloak. The scent of summer flowers still follows her, as if she'd somehow found a bed of them in winter and had lain on it.

"I have brought you something," Lyanna tells him, her voice cheery despite the long hours spent on the road.

Lady Shella clears her throat softly, her tall, lean figure trembling slightly. "Mayhap my lady would prefer to postpone the unwrapping of gifts until we are seated before a nice, warm fire."

House Whent is one of those peculiar houses that has some strong bond with the King. Lady Shella is one of the few women of Jon's acquaintance that are as kind to his mother's face as they are when she is away.

ii

Jeyne skips across the hall, her hair tumbling down her back, dark glossy curls a sharp contrast to her light blue kirtle. "You will love the gift," his sister says, turning her head back towards him.

"I am sure I shall," Jon replies, surreptitiously eyeing his mother and Lady Whent.

The two women linger behind, caught in their own quiet conversation. Women, Jon shrugs. Just when he is about to ask Jeyne for more detail upon this gift he is to receive, a small scuffle breaks out between Aeryn and Laena, effectively drawing his attention away from the issue at hand.

Mother interrupts her conversation to discipline the twins.

iii

They sit all of them at the high table, engrossed in intimate talk. Well, the ones with enough knowledge to carry on the conversation at least. Aeryn and Laena seem more interested in whispering one to the other about the household servants. But Jon is much too well disposed to mind at the moment.

Jeyne laughs at a question Lady Whent addresses to her. "I am not yet four-and-ten, my lady. I am content to wait for a match to be arranged."

When their mother and host are no longer paying attention, Jon leans in to whisper to his sister, "What of that Loras Tyrell you kept writing to me about?"

His sister flushes and kicks his leg under the table. "Pray do not mention him, brother."

All the better that nothing has come of it, Jon considers, thinking that the great houses would never truly accept a bastard into their midst, even a royal one.

iv

"And then Sansa stepped on Robb's toe," Jeyne recounts, dregs of laughter colouring her voice. Jon has grown impatient and it must be plain to see, for the oldest of his present sibling stands up. "Lady mother, I do believe 'tis time my brother received his gift."

Laena lets out a squeal and claps her hands. "At last."

Less enthusiastic, Aenys gives a shake of his head.

Lyanna nods. "Very well. Bring your brother his present."

There are new lines on his mother's face. Not deep or particularly attention commanding, but Jon can see them nonetheless. Her smile is still the same tough. It brings him comfort.

v

The pup yipps, its small body curling into itself and the twins fought over whose right it was to pet it first now that the wolfling has a new master. Jon simply takes the small, white direwolf in his arms, away from the brother and sister.

"Enough, you two. You are frightening him, not to mention me." Disappointed pouts meet his decision, but Jon does not yield and Jeyne is instructed to see the younglings to their respective bedchamber where Septa Lemore will see to their comfort.

"And you as well, Jeyne, must seek your bedchamber."

Jon cannot help but feel a twinge of ache himself at the knowledge that they shall be gone when the morrow comes.

vi

"Can you not stay even for a few days, lady mother?" Jon pleads with the woman combing her hair before a silver looking glass. "I have not seen in a couple of years. A few hours is hardly enough."

"I should like to remain here longer, son. Truly." Yet she cannot. Jon's shoulders drop before she even gives her reason. But his mother surprises him, "I am with child once more. Your father should be furious were I to give birth elsewhere but in King's Landing. You know how he is."

Everybody knows. Ever since the difficulties she had bringing him forth, the King saw to it that her confinements kept her in King's Landing under the supervision of a trusted maester.

"I am to have another sibling?"

vii

He names the pup Ghost. In a place the like of Harrenhal, where the scars run deep beneath the surface of the charred walls, there are many ghosts. But none of them ever appear before the human eye. Yet one hears their pained moans deep within the night.

With his Ghost, the matters stand at an exact reverse. There is hardly ever a sound, but one can see the white fur, can touch it and feel it. Jon keeps the direwolf close, at first, because it is mother's gift. Then the ball of fur becomes an attachment; not even something, but someone, closer to him than even kind Lady Whent.

viii

The next time his sister writes from King's Landing she has been somewhat stirred by the tragic accident of a tourney knight. Jon is confused at this. Jeyne must know that though her birth might not matter to father and mother, to others it does. Whether in a greater or lesser measure depends very much on the grandness of the house.

He does not answer this letter. Whatever Jeyne chooses, the decision must be hers. Though he does think that she ought to have written to Naerys. Instead, he concentrates on improving his archery skills and finally bests Lady Shella's master-at-arms.

ix

It turns out that his lady mother can and does please the King. A missive comes just after the first snowfall that Lyanna has given birth to another pair of twins. A rare occurrence and truly remarkable in that Jon is starting to believe the gods mean him to keep a hundred sisters when that time comes.

It is his father who writes, a man whose face Jon has nearly forgotten. If the King's mistress has mobility to move throughout the realm every now and again, the King must keep to his throne and see to the needs of the Kingdoms.

But Jon has been invited to meet the newest addition to his ever-expanding family and is pleased by it nonetheless.

x

Lady Shella watches him fell another one of the squires. Jon does not know what she makes of his skill, his head is not in the fight. On the morrow he makes for King's Landing and he can barely wait. It seems to him simply preposterous that he must stand in the cold and train when a long ride awaits him. But there is nothing to be done.

Squaring his shoulders as his newest opponent strikes, Jon lifts his sword, countering a blow that might have relieved him of his head. He doesn't look at the Lady of House Whent again.