Note: Thanks for the nice reviews. It wasn't intended at first, but I somehow started to choose a song as some kind of "soundtrack" for every Chapter (the song title is also the chapter title), because I think the mood and/or the lyrics fit the theme of the chapter. You might want to listen to them while, before or after reading. Or not. Anyway, here we go with chapter two, hope you like it!

Music: Wicked Game - HIM

Chapter Two: Wicked Game

Evening came and more and more people were gathering in the hall of Winterfell. Already gay music, jolly voices and the clatter of beer jugs, pots and pans were audible in the dimly lit yard as Jon Snow wandered from his chamber to the doors of the festival hall. Halfway across the yard a door opened and two giggling maids bursted into the silence of the night. Evidently they had already relished quite a few gulps of the strong northern ale that was usually served on festive occasions and were in a jovially impish mood.

"Hello Jon!" one of them smiled in a coquettish way. The other one giggled.

"Hello." Jon passed them with a casual twitch of the corner of his mouth but turned his attention back to the now open door where light and noise were pouring out. He heard one of the girls shout something about "them waiting for him all night" after him and the other shriek in protest but he didn't listen. Through the prattle of the guests he had made out Robbs ringing laughter and the sound acted like a call on Jon that cleared all the unimportant fears and inconsequential worries from his mind and drew him closer in an irresistible drift. It would not matter if he would be stabbed to death by the scornful glances of Lady Stark or if his bloodline would be mocked relentlessly by Theon and others. Tonight was all about him.

Coming in from the dim yard the candlelight blinded him for a moment, but as soon as his eyes had accustomed to the gleam of the countless candles, a scene of the splendor and nobility the Lords of Winterfell could display stretched before his eyes. He spied Robb at the big table reserved for the ruler of Winterfell and his family and noble guests and he caught Robbs sparkling eye immediately. He looked dashing and smug, having, like all the boys of the family, been ordered by their mother to get their hair cut and beard trimmed. One thing Jon had always liked in Robb was that he knew exactly how handsome he was and that his confidence showed. Tonight he appeared simply radiant with his combed back thick black hair and the fine beard, cheeks blushed from laughter and alcohol and his disarming smile revealing the pearl chain of white teeth. Their eyes locked for not more than a heartbeat in a gaze with a meaning that only the two of them could understand to the full while for the rest of the present company it was just a simple gesture between brothers. But Jon understood. Both of them had just always known. Known that there was more, that their feelings stretched way beyond the love of brothers and friends. There had never been a doubt for any of them, there had never been any questions left to answer. One day some years ago they had shared a look like this for the first time and they had both seen it in the others' eyes. But also they had both realized in the same instant what it meant and that it could never be more than just a secret share between exclusively them and that acting out these feelings was absolutely out of the question. They had never spoken about it. Only once they had been on the brink of giving in, their faces so close Jon had thought they might kiss any moment. But it hadn't happened and never again after that. So they had just gone back to brotherly displays of affection and no one had ever noticed anything.

Jon pushed through the crowd and made his way to the table where directly to Robbs right an empty chair was waiting for his arrival.

"You're late!" Robb called still grinning broadly. By the way his tongue lingered a tad too long on the beginning of the word "late" told Jon that the pint of beer standing on the table in front of Robb was not his first. It made Jon laugh and he sat down as well, watching Robb pouring him a big pint.

The general mood was outstanding. Everybody was in the best of spirits, even Lady Stark was too busy chatting away and laughing with her husband to feel disturbed by Jons presence. Jon did his best to catch up with Robbs level of drunkenness and then bravely kept up with Theon and him and soon all troubles were drowned in the sweet, warm taste of the ale. Robbs presence and his high spirits had quite an effect on Jon. It was intoxicating. Exhilarated and with red cheeks Jon felt a tingly feeling every time they touched and always the feeling seemed to linger, yes, even to travel through his body until settling as a soft pleasant warmth in his belly. His nose and lungs were filled with the sweet, slightly but pleasantly sweaty smell of Robbs body. And all too soon the hall began to empty while one after one the people hurried off to bed. Theon had left in what he had believed to be an unnoticed manner with two very drunken girls, who had been fighting for his attention all evening. Lord and Lady Stark also retreated to their chambers and it wasn't long until they were two of the last people present. Robb yawned hugely, looking a bit dazed.

"I think it's time to go to bed!" Jon said, yawning himself and trying a little surprised to keep balance after getting up a tad too abruptly. Robb also had problems while getting up from his chair and they both broke into laughter.

"Here comes the noble Lord Robb, heir to Winterfell. Unable to stand straight!" Robb shouted exuberantly and again both of them snickered. Somewhere on a nearby table a very drunk group of four or five men, who were still persistently continuing their drinking game until one of the participants would throw up or fall off the bench, broke into a slurring praise of the hard drinking future lord of Winterfell. They left the hall and crossed the yard on the way to their rooms and in the cool night air both of them sobered up a little. Robb sighed drowsily.

"Tonight was fun!" Jon smiled.

"I haven't felt this light-hearted in weeks, with all the talk of Wildlings and other things starting to stir north of the wall." Robb replied sincerely and they both fell silent for a while, standing in comfortable stillness delaying the inevitable parting for the night a few moments longer.

"Oh, before I forget. I have something I wanted to give to you." Jon fumbled with a small leather bag hanging from his belt with nervous fingers and pulled out a small piece of folded cloth. Robb took it looking surprised and curiously started to unfold the tiny package.

"It's nothing special. Just something I made myself…" muttered Jon in visible embarrassment. "You don't have to wear it if you don't like it. No problem."

"Are you kidding?" Robb appeared earnestly delighted. In the folds of the cloth a small object on a leather band had appeared. It was a tiny detailed wolfs head, according to the grain and colour carved from burl wood. It was an exact, finely manufactured rendition of the wolf in the Stark families' emblem. The leather band was attached by a rope sling so it could be worn as a pendant around the neck.

"You made this. For me?"

"It's just… I, well, it wasn't that much work…" Jons helplessly mortified stutters were cut short by Robb silencing him with a powerful hug. After a moment of surprise, Jon buried his face into Robbs shoulder breathing in his scent deeply and bringing his hand up to his brothers back to push him even closer to his own body. He felt Robb breathe deeply and steadily then felt his moist and warm breath only inches away from his ear. The sensation knocked the breath out of his lungs and nearly made mid cough.

"It's great. Thank you!" Robb whispered, his full lips touching Jons sensitive earlobe and giving him shivers down his spine.

"You're welcome."

When they loosened they grip on each other, another gesture of Robb caught Jon by surprise and excited his by alcohol and the embrace already pleasantly confused body and mind even more. When their gazes locked in one of those meaningful unspoken conversations, Robb reached out to Jons face and laid a hand on his cheek. It was hot and sweaty yet the touch made Jons heart pound so hard in his chest, he feared Robb might hear it. They stood silent for a few moments staring into each others' eyes. But then Robb flashed Jon one of his broad, disarmingly beautiful smiles and the moment was gone.

"Good night, Snow."

"Sleep well." Replied Jon and they both went to their beds.

This night sleeping was near to impossible. After he had parted from Robb he lay there in the dark and watched the starry sky out of his open window. The cold draft could not cool the heat and desire in Jons body and it felt like it drove him to the brink of insanity. What was happening? All these years he had just managed to suppress everything he felt for Robb, managed to roll those thoughts, wishes and desires into a small knot that sat deep within his body, putting a constant but bearable pressure on his heart. Why was this knot beginning to disentangle, to wind around his heart and crush it with a force that had grown almost too hard to endure? It was happening to Robb too, Jon could tell from the way he had hugged him goodnight, from that infinitely tender caress of his cheek and the smouldering look in his blue eyes. They had been playing a wicked game these past years and now Jon felt, they were about to lose grasp on the rules. As he drifted into an uneasy, unsettling sleep he dreamed of Robb, standing on a high pedestal in the victorious pose of a great conqueror. Bare chested, he had his right arm stretched out, holding a sword and pointing it into the sky. A heavy golden crown adorned his head. But as Jon approached the pedestal, he discovered that fine drops of dark red blood were coming down from Robbs right hand and his crowned brow and that he appeared to be crying.

"It's heavy!" Jon could hear Robb groan and he realized that the weight of the sword and crown were crushing his brothers' bones. When he reached up to try and touch his feet, Jons fingertips started to blister and burn until he sank to his knees and buried his face in his hands, sobbing without restrain. Jon awoke confused, sticky with sweat and with a sick feeling in his stomach.

The old people in the north believed very intense dreams like this were prophetic, but Jon pushed that thought far away and tried to go back to sleep.