Robb

Rob sat in a back room behind the kitchen where the Stark's often ate their meals on informal days. Arya and Bran were chasing each other around the table and by the looks of it Arya was going to catch Bran just as one of the serving women, Mayra Browns in four steaming plates of roast venison most likely from his and fathers last hunt where they had taken 3 fine bucks. As Mayra set down the plates she mildly asked where Jon was. That made Rob pause, it was unlike Jon to be late to a meal especially when his mother, lady Catlyn wasn't present, as she was today, having supper in her chambers with Sansa and her friend, Jane Pool. Rob thought of how sickly Jon had been today during their fight. Normally Rob lost just as often as he won, but not today. He had known something was off. Today even stern Castsell had herd the way Jon was coughing and commanded him to return to his chambers but, no his mother put an end to that. Rob angered at the thought, he loved his mother in the way any son would but he could never stomach the way he treated his brother. He understood why lady Catlyn felt that way but the didn't make it ant easier to accept.

Although he had gotten angry at Jon earlier for being so dam stubborn he honestly hopped he was heading his words and getting some rest. As he finished his portion of venison and started on the accompanying potatoes, he noticed Arya looking at him with her big grey eyes. It struck him as odd that she had barley uttered a word their first entire meal. Usually he would be begging her to shut up by now.

"You seem quiet today, Arya," Rob prodded. She just shrugged and Rob definitely knew something was up. The normal Arya would of found some way to throw his concern back as an insult. Rob waited for Bran to shove the last bites on his food into his mouth and run out the door, probably to go climb a tree or something before asking her again.

"Really, Arya what is it?"

She paused for a long second before quietly starting," I'm just worried about Jon. He seemed really sick earlier and I'm scared it's all my fault for taking his jacket yesterday."

Rob then remembered in a wave of concern the way Jon had continued to shiver last night long after him and Arya even though they were all by the fire. His concern turned to rage as remembered how his lady had had forced Jon do his do his normal stable work even though it was plain to see how pale and chilled Jon was.

But he knew he couldn't worry Arya so instead he said," He's probably just resting. We had a ruff day if training." He knew she wasn't convinced but she nodded anyway.

After finishing his meal Rob grabbed Jon's readily cooling plate and headed to the stairs. Instead of turning on the second level as he was accustom to turning for his and his siblings' chambers he walked up two more flights to where Jon's chambers were located. He knock on Jon's thick wooden door and cautiously slid it open when he herd no reply. All his a remaining anger from their earlier argument dissipated when he saw his brother curled up into a ball shivering with his furs scattered around his bed. His sweat-soaked hair was matted to his forehead and Rob knew something was terribly wrong. He grabbed a fur from the floor and walked over to Jon who was now coughing weakly.

"Jon, you gotta wake up," he said gently placing his hand on the shivering boy's shoulder, even there he could feel Jon was burning up.

"Jon," he said a little louder with a ruff shake this time, the boy didn't move. "Jon, please," Rob said almost pleading with the boy who was as pale as the snow for which he was named. Rob knew now that Jon wasn't going to wake for him, he need to get Luwin.

"Jon, you'll be ok, I just need go get Luwin," Rob said half to himself as moved for the door. As he walked out into the corridor he heard feet scampering away. 'Arya' he knew.

He wondered how much she had herd. He knew he should go to her but all he could think about was about getting Luwin and back to Jon.

He burst into the master's chambers and was relived to see Luwin at his desk with a paper and quill.

"Yes, Rob?" The old man asked without even looking up.

"It's Jon. He's sick and he isn't waking is up and," Rob was cut off.

"Relax, my boy," the old master said in his gray robe and his metal chain clicking as he got up and placed a wrinkled hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Slowly this time. What happened to Jon," the old man continued. Rob wanted to scream and cry at the same time. Jon was lying unconscious and the master wanted him to speak more slowly.

With all his remaining resolve Rob started," Jon is sick and he won't wake up. I think he caught a chill from yesterday but I don't know," he finished in exasperation.

To his relief the old man began to gather some stuff into a bag and then turned to follow him out the door. When entered Jon's room Rob noticed something he hadn't before, the room was freezing! Rob looked around until he noticed the window; it had a crack as long as his arm running through it. Before even looking at Jon the old man verbalized Rob's thoughts, "we have to get him out of here. No wonder he caught a chill. He probably had been coming down with one long before setting foot in that snowstorm."

"He can come to my room," he continued without even thinking.

" Yes, yes, I'll call for Hodor to bring him down."

"No need," Rob said as he hoisted his wirey bastard brother into his arms. Jon had always been thin whereas he had been more bulky, but in this arms Jon felt especially frail, burning hot and covered in sweat. It scared him, since they were young Jon had always been incredibly tough, raising hours early in the morning to get in some extra sword training, working in the stables or helping Micken the entire afternoon and then still managing to find the energy to wrestle with Arya late at night after her sewing lessons. This was not that boy.

As strong as Rob was his arms were aching by the time lay Jon on his bed. Just then he saw a flicker of the sickly boy's eyes. "Jon, it will be fine," he whispered praying the boy would somehow hear.