Nota Bene: I own nothing to do with Asoiaf, these are based mostly on the books, but some of the television show's characterization creeps in. I picture the characters to be roughly the ages depicted in the show, give or take a year. If anyone would be kind enough to review, it would certainly be appreciated. I love constructive criticism and I'd love to know what you guys want to see as well.
The King's retinue was bigger than Jon had ever seen before. They came in all their finery, their jewels and their furs, and they seemed to fill the walls of Winterfell like too many fish stuck in a barrel. It wasn't a comfortable fit for anyone, except for maybe King Robert who seemed to be comfortable enough no matter where he stood. Jon was standing with the squires where no one could see him and only a row behind him stood Pippa. She had a helmet behind her back from Arya's latest moment of insanity, but the way she craned her neck this way and that was quite the distraction from what she held. It occurred to Jon that she had probably never seen that many people in one place at one time. He glanced over and caught her eye, mimicking her gaping mouth. She crossed her eyes and made a rude gesture at him. He put a hand over his heart, looking hurt. She rolled her eyes, and then she was being elbowed and he was distracted by the King demanding to go to the Stark's crypt and there wasn't any more time for teasing.
Pippa wasn't skilled enough to help Sansa and Arya with their hair and clothing for that night so she was stuck helping the kitchen set up the banquet and lighting the hundreds of candles that littered the room. By the time she was released from her duties to go change she had dozens of little holes burned into her sleeves, it truly was a miracle she hadn't set herself or the hall alight. No one could understand how she had managed to work her way up to the rank she had when her competence with simple tasks was only slightly above Hodor's. It was as if her mind was always somewhere much further than anyone could guess, and even fire, or ice, or screaming children couldn't quite draw her all the way back.
She had that air about her when she walked into Robb on the way back to her room. He couldn't remember the last time someone hadn't been aware of him, in the halls everyone else seemed to know where he was and who he was and how he was. As the heir to Winterfell, Robb Stark was never far from anyone's mind, he took it for granted that anywhere he stepped there would be room for him. Winterfell seemed to shape itself to him, it had since his birth. It took him a second to react and catch her by the shoulders before she actually touched the floor and it was only that that seemed to jar her from her reverie. She dipped into an awkward curtsey, "I'm sorry Lord Stark. I have no idea what's got into me."
Robb laughed, checking around them for any of the particularly prudish servants and found the two of them almost alone, he shoved her gently, "Please Pippa, it's not what's in you, but what you've never managed to get out."
She mimicked his scan of the halls before her hand darted out and flicked his wrist, her face breaking into a grin as she scampered out of his reach, "Well maybe if you didn't walk around looking over everyone's head like you already owned the place, you might see someone about to walk into you."
It was probably because she was the only girl his age that didn't preen when he walked by that Robb liked Pippa. Not liked, not like Jon seemed to like her. He wouldn't hesitate steal a kiss maybe. Tumbling her into bed wasn't out of the question either. But it wasn't some forbidden love story between the heir of the North and the wild peasant. He liked that she was odd and crude at times. That she dared to shove and flick if it suited her to do so, though never when there was someone around. He thought of her as he might think of Theon or Jon, though she didn't hold such a high place in his esteem. Regardless she was a friend. Good for a laugh and sometimes to shock him into thinking something over, even if she was almost always wrong. No, He never imagined her by his side at dinners like he did with some of the nobles ladies, and she certainly lacked the beauty of Cersei Lannister, or even little Myrcella with her golden curls and sweet nature. Still, if he didn't think Jon might punch him… "You'll pay for that."
"Yeah?" She tossed her hair defiantly before promptly dropping her gaze when someone streamed past them in the hall. "I'm sorry my Lord thinks so," she murmured dropping into subservience almost convincingly, "as he is quite mistaken. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must attempt to make myself presentable, something I'm sure my Lord would agree is a reasonable use of my time." She curtsied again, wobbling over her ankle and catching herself just in time to make the dip and then hurried walk forward look almost deliberate. Robb's laugh followed her into her room.
The change to be 'presentable' was one that she had perfected and it may have been one of the reasons she had managed to raise herself as much as she had. It starting with changing out of the clothes she had ruined. No. Not ruined, but she would need to bribe someone to help her mend them. Sansa might do it if she offered her enough lemon cakes. How the girl stayed so slim was a mystery even the maesters might have difficulty deciphering. And now she was off on some daydream about Prince Joffery, who, to his credit was the very image of a perfect prince. She could see why Sansa was besotted even if she preferred the rougher Northern men, at least they seemed real.
She wondered if Jon would be seated with his family. She would be seated several tables below, where the personal servants sat, not so close to offend, but close enough to jump to their duties the moment they were wanted. Would they hide Jon? She shook herself out of it, what did it matter?
She poured water that had gone icy cold in a bowl and splashed it all over. She liked it better this way, warm water made her sleepy. Cold water reminded her of being outside these walls. Of the rivers and streams that filled her dream. She used her fingers to try and tame her hair, but she knew a brush would make it explode. No need for that. The Court ladies had enough going on with their hair. She didn't particularly want to look like them. Once she was dry, she shimmied into a new dress, a hand me down from Sansa who had outgrown it months ago. The lacings couldn't go as perfectly around her waist, she didn't have the younger girl's figure but she thought she looked nice enough. She pulled her hair into a loose, neat knot at the base of her neck, and she even pinched her cheeks a bit to give them colour. There. Enough. The banquet would be starting soon and she still needed to usher all the Stark children to their seats. She caught another glance at herself and her thoughts flashed back to Jon, her cheeks lit up. She could feel the heat. Damn it. She couldn't drink much before she got the children in bed, but she planned on ending the night drunk enough to forget any of them. Blushing was not something she appreciated. Wine might help her forget.