Good evening! A tad late, but below you'll find the latest edition of The Price of Love. I meant for this to come out sooner, but I spent 24 hours stranded at an airport trying to get home, so I apologize for the lateness, but to reward you - this is the longest chapter to date! Hope you all enjoy. Be sure to add the story to your favorites and alerts to be the first to hear of updates, and as always, I love to hear from you in the reviews! I hope to have the next chapter out later this weekend, until then - Happy Reading! - trs0010
Chapter VI: The Orphan and the Bastard
Rarely did Jon Snow ever thank the gods for dealing him the fate of being a bastard; but on this particular evening, he never felt more grateful not to be a trueborn son of Lord Eddard Stark.
The feast honoring the arrival of King Robert Baratheon was waning into the final hour. The best Winterfell had to offer devoured in a lavish feast in honor of the royal family's arrival in the North. Smoked meats, roasted potatoes, fine ales and rich desserts lined tables and filled bellies.
A haze of smoke from the kitchen fired below, and the pits were filling the massive room with welcoming heat wafted through the Great Hall. The smoke stung the eye, forcing even the toughest of knights to wipe away a lone tear.
The walls draped in the banners of Houses Stark, Lannister, and Baratheon, painting the room in gray, scarlet and gold. The dire wolf, lion and crowned stag dance on the fabric as the banners waved back and forth in the draft. At the far end of the Great Hal, a singer belted out a ballad accompanied by the high harp he strummed, but Jon was not sure if anyone could ever hear the lad.
The Great Hall buzzed with a low murmur as the fires roared, laughs and word exchanged by the hundreds crowded around the many tables and the clangs of plates and cups. King Robert's unmistakable laugh boomed over all the noise throughout the night.
Jon enjoyed the feast at one of the long tables that lined the room, mingling amongst young squires as he drank his fill of summer wine. He was shocked that Lady Catelyn permitted him to dine within the Great Hall this particular evening, but she made it deathly clear he would no sit amongst his brothers as he would have done on any other night.
No, having a bastard sit amongst the princes and princess would be a horrid offense to the royal family, but Jon did not complain. He no courtesies to keep or anyone to instruct him on how much or how little he needed to drink. He did not have to bite his tongue as he listened to the boasting of the crowned prince.
He quenched his thirst with flagons of the fruity win with his dire wolf pup gnawing on scraps underneath the table. It was another perk of being a bastard. He was the only Stark child allowed to bring his dire wolf to the evening's feast.
His half siblings and the king's children sat below a raised platform where his father and Lady Stark hosted the king and queen. Jon Noticed that Lord Stark was on edge. His father observed all the courtesies expected of a great lord, but something was bothering the Warden of the North. The Lannister queen looked the picture or beauty and grace, but a cold, icy glare dusted her features.
Jon wondered if the two were disturbed by the same unknown mystery.
A melodic laugh drifted from the head of the Great Hall down to Jon's ears. He couldn't contain the smile that spread across his face as it reached him. It was her laugh. He dared to gaze at the table where his brothers and sisters dined to catch sight of the laughter's source.
A spectacular smile spread across Kathleen's face as she doubled over laughing at some joke Robb undoubtedly told by the pleased look across his features for causing such a beautiful sound to escape Kathleen's lips. She had one hand clutched around Robb's arm as she steadied herself, attempting to regain her composure.
Kathleen caught Jon's stare, shooting him the smallest of winks. Jon nodded in return, the smile on his face growing. He was mostly grateful to be a bastard that evening, expect for one small detail.
It deprived him on spending the night in the company of Kathleen Lannister, and for that, he was extremely jealous of his brothers.
Jon could not stop himself from sneaking glances at his long-lost friend all evening. All of Lord Stark's children had their reunion with Kathleen. Even Theon Greyjoy basked in her presence that night, but Jon was forced to wait, only gifted with stolen looks and secret smiles.
He was arguably closer to Kathleen during her childhood visits to Winterfell than any of the others. It frustrated him more than he liked to admit that he was forced to be the last to have a moment alone with her.
Jon knew the odds were stacked against him to a reunion during the feast. Robb scarcely let Kathleen out of his sight all night, but Jon could not blame his brother. He would be doing the same. Seven hells, Jon couldn't stop stealing looks at her now.
All of the Stark children escorted members of the royal family to that evening's feast, save for young Rickon. He led the processions, stopping the briefest moment in front of Jon before he continued to his seat after encouragement from his half- brother.
Arya was on the arm of Prince Tommen, while Bran escorted the Princess Myrcella. Sansa drew the arm of the crowned prince, Joffrey Baratheon. His eldest sister was radiant, her auburn hair shiny brightly, and she could not take her eyes away from the young stag. She blushed anytime his eyes met hers. Jon did not see the appeal. He looked nothing like the knights and kings he grew up listening to in Old Nan's stories.
Robb and Kathleen rounded out the procession. The moment she entered the Great Hall, all eyes locked on Kathleen. She stole the show away from all the Baratheon children. 5
Jon even thought she put the queen to shame. It was not hard to tell the two were related with a quick glance between them, but where Cersei was cold and stoic, Kathleen was warm and welcoming.
She favored her uncle more than anyone. The Lion, Jamie Lannister, had morphed into her father figure after her true father's death. Kathleen carried herself in the same proud manner. Jon noticed the two had perfectly matching smirks. He thought Jamie looked more a king than Robert ever would, and Kathleen could rival any queen's beauty.
She and Robb were the perfect pair. His brother wore gray wool trimmed in white, and the fair maiden on his arm had ditched the Lannister gold and scarlet and done the colors of the North and House Stark.
The flowing charcoal gown etched with dire wolves brought out her emerald eyes. Her ebony locked cascaded down her shoulders. Like a fool, a giant grin spread across Robb's face when he looked down at Kathleen. She returned his look with her beautiful smile, but Jon noticed it did not reach eyes. Her green orbs held back a secret, but Robb didn't seem to notice.
Jon imagined he'd be just as giddy and oblivious as Robb if had Kathleen on his arm. Any man would. The entire hall could not help but watch as he escorted her to their seats. Whispers and knowing glances spread around Jon. All knew they were looking at the future of House Stark.
The Lord and Lady Stark could not hold back the proud smiles as they watched the couple. Jon knew the Starks and his brother were more than happy to join houses with the Lannisters if it meant adding Kathleen as a permanent fixture.
Kathleen was just as eager to marry his brother. Tonight, they played the part of a couple madly in love, and Kathleen was the picture-perfect image of the future Lady of Winterfell.
Even as the hours past and Kathleen had a tad more to drink than a lady should, she was still laughing and smiling as beautifully and gracefully as when she owned the room.
Though his place as a bastard was at the opposite end of the hall, Jon thanked the gods for blessing him with the sight of her. He was even more thankful that Kathleen stole glances his way throughout the night, locking eyes with him for the briefest of moments to share a smile.
The towering figure of Benjen Stark, First Ranger of the Night's Watch, blocked Jon's vantage point.
"This must be on of the dire wolves I've heard so much about," his uncle commented as he ruffled Jon's hair before straddling the bench, joining his bastard nephew.
The two shared a laugh as Jon boasted proudly of Ghost, and his uncle kindly teased him about the amount of wine the young lad had consumed.
"Don't you usually eat at the table with your brothers?" Benjen asked after giving Jon a long look.
"Most times," Jon answered in a flat tone. "But tonight, Lady Stark thought it might give insult to the royal family to seat a bastard amongst them."
Benjen gave a short nod before looking over his shoulder. "My brother does not seem very festive tonight."
"The queen is angry, too," Jon commented in a small, quiet voice. He was eager to share his earlier assessment for neither his father's nor the queen's mood improved as the night progressed. "Father took the king down to the crypts this afternoon. The Queen didn't want him to go."
"You don't miss much, do you?" Benjen gave Jon a measuring look. The boy had grown so much since he had last seen him. "We could use a man like you on the Wall."
"Robb is a stronger lance than I am, but I'm the better sword," Jon swelled with pride as he bathed in his uncle's compliment. "I can sit a horse as well as anyone in the castle."
"Notable achievements," Benjen remarked, hiding the wry smile over his nephew's enthusiasm.
"Take me with you when you go back to the Wall," Jon pleaded. "Father will give me leave to go if you ask him. I know he will."
"The Wall is a hard place for a boy, Jon." Benjen studied his nephew carefully.
"I am almost a man grown," he protested. "Maester Luwin says bastards grow up faster than other children."
"That's true enough," Benjen spoke, a small grimace painted his features. Despite being treated as well as any trueborn child of Eddard Stark, Jon learned his place quickly.
Benjen poured himself a goblet of summer wine, taking deep, long drinks of the fruity ale.
"I want to serve the Night's Watch, uncle," Jon declared. The wine made him bolder. He sat up straight and tall as he made his claim, appearing much older than he was.
The amount of win coursing through his vein was not forcing Jon to make any rash decisions. He had thought long on what was to become of him. Robb would one day be Warden of the North with Kathleen destined to be by his side. His brothers would be great lords of even greater holdfasts, serving in Robb's name. His sisters would marry great Southern lords, birthing little lordlings and knights of their own.
What's left in this world for the bastard, Jon Snow? The Night's Watch was Jon's chance for honor and glory.
"You don't know what you're asking, Jon," Benjen countered. "The Night's Watch is a sworn brotherhood. We have no families. None of us will ever father sons. Our wife is duty. Our mistress is honor."
"A bastard can have honor, too," Jon answered. "I am ready to swear your oath."
"You are a boy," Benjen spoke gently. "Not a man, not yet. Until you have known a woman, you cannot understand what you would be giving up."
"I don't care about that." Jon tried to spit out the words as fiercely as he meant them, but they were lost to him as made the mistake of looking over his uncle's shoulder. Kathleen. She sweetly smiled Jon's way before turning her attention back to Robb.
Benjen craned his head to spy the young Lannister maiden that stole his nephew's attention. A knowing smile grew across his face.
"You might if you knew what it meant," he answered. "If you knew what the oath would cost you, you might be less eager to pay the price, son."
Jon knew what he'd be giving up. It was a life that was never destined to be his - a whisper of a dream that must be retired. It was the only chance to start a fresh life on his own without forever drowning in a promise meant for someone else. A love he must silently harbor that would never be shared or returned.
The stabbing pain his heart for something he'd never be able to grasp, the curse of being born a bastard and the drudge of wine was too much for Jon to handle. Though often calm and collective, his emotions were out of his control.
"I'm not your son!" he lashed out at his uncle.
"Come back to me after you've fathered a few bastards of your own," Benjen stood, placing a hand on Jon's shoulder, "and we'll see how you feel."
"I will never father a bastard," Jon spat, trembling in anger. "Never!"
Only then did Jon realize those around him had fallen silent. Jon stared past his uncle to see Kathleen. Around her, his brothers and sisters laughed and jested, but she was numb to her surroundings.
Her sole focus was Jon. Kathleen could not have heard his exchange with his uncle, but she had witnessed it. She always knew him better than anyone; even after all the years apart Kathleen knew Jon was upset. She could only offer a pained and sympathetic look from the distance separating them. It was distance much farther than a few meters Jon thought, a distance between a bastard and a true Lady Lannister. They might have been leagues apart.
Jon felt the hot tears welling in his eyes as he pushed himself to his feet.
"I must be excused," he muttered, using his last shred of dignity. As he whirled around to bolt out of the Great Hall before anyone could see the tears escape, he fumbled over his own feet. He consumed more wine than he realized. He cursed himself for relishing in the taste earlier.
He lurched forward, stumbling into a serving girl, sending the pair and a flagon of spiced wine crashing to the floor. Jon scrambled to his feet, pushing away the gentle hand attempting to steady him and escaped into the night air with Ghost trailing behind. A chorus of laughter followed hot on their heels.
As she watched Jon tumble to the ground, Kathleen gripped Robb's arm and stood, controlled by only instincts alone. She desperately wanted to run to his side and help her sweet Jon, but she was forced to remain in her place. She knew even her small reaction could prove much too bold.
Kathleen already tested the waters far too much with Cersei, leaving a large wake of damage trailing behind her. If she had any chance of swaying the queen's stance on her betrothal with Robb Stark, Kathleen could not risk any further harm.
She knew it likely was a lost cause, but she had to do anything in her power for Robb's sake. She owed him that much. After sharing their first kiss, Kathleen made a promise. She would do everything in her power to earn Cersei's blessing before the Queen drug her back to King's Landing, likely tied atop the royal wheelhouse.
Despite sneaking an extra glass or two of summer wine, Kathleen was the perfect lady all evening, even keeping her snide comments to herself as her cousin Joffrey boasted to Sansa. It was an easy task with Robb by her side.
The dashing, young wolf, kept her attention all evening, reminiscing with Theon Greyjoy over their childhood at Winterfell. They swapped stories of their adventures during their years apart. They laughed until tears threatened to fall. Ever now and then, Robb dared to touch her hand or brush back a strand of hair from her forehead, wanting any excuse to be closer.
Kathleen thought it was an almost perfect evening. They were only missing her Jon. She made sure to send looks his way throughout the night to ensure her dear friend that she had not forgotten him, but she assured herself Jon was much more content far away from her dreadful cousins.
Jon had laughed, drank and dined with the squires. Every time the two met eyes and shared a smile, Jon looked genuinely happy. That was until Benjen Stark appeared by his side.
Kathleen was not able to eavesdrop over the nature of their conversation, but whatever it was, it rocked Jon to his core.
He once wrote her about his wish to one day join his uncle at the Wall, swearing an oath to the Night's Watch. Kathleen could only assume that topic was brought up that evening.
She tried before to dissuade Jon desperately from joining. Assuring him that his place was at his brothers' side at Winterfell and that he was destined for greater things. She feared he was throwing his life away at the Wall.
In her perfect world, Kathleen and Robb ruled the North in the King's name as Lord and Lady of Winterfell, and Jon would serve by their side. The gods delivered Kathleen a dose of reality that her perfect world would never be, and that she may lose both Robb and Job by the end of the royal visit.
Using all the self-control she could muster, Kathleen slowly lowered herself to her seat by Robb's side, despite how much her heart urged her to run after Jon's retreating form as he fled from his embarrassment.
She noticed the hot tears streaming down his face as he escaped into the night. Kathleen knew Jon for most of her life, and could count on one hand the times she had ever seen him cry. He was a bastard. She was an orphan. Both had to grow up much faster and much stronger than any child ever should. Kathleen was terribly worried about her dear Jon Snow.
Robb scooted closer to her side once she returned to her seat. "It's Jon," he whispered. "I'm sure he is alright."
She couldn't hide her concerned from Robb. He knew how important his half brother was to Kathleen. It was one of the many reasons she stole his heart. She never once treated Jon as anything other than a Stark.
Robb gently took her hand that was still holding his arm tight and intertwined his fingers with her, giving her a comforting squeeze. Kathleen smiled up at her lord with the sweetest smile Robb had ever seen. She was thankful for Robb's comfort even though she was not as sure as he was about Jon's well-being.
Kathleen snaked her hand out of his grip, resting it silently on his leg underneath the table as she turned her attention to her cousins. Following her lead, Robb placed his hand onto of hers once more, locking their fingers together. Neither one looked at each other, but a secret smile played across their lips simultaneously.
Arya noticed the two's not-so-secret affection and nudged her brother Bran. Both sniggered in disgust of young children that weren't impressed by the opposite sex.
"That bastard brother of yours is a clumsy fellow," laughed Joffrey as he lazily drank his wine. "Perhaps I can convince our father to allow him to join us in King's Landing. I need a new fool."
All the Starks, save Sansa, opened their mouths to protests, but a cold, sharp voice cut them to the chase.
"He has a name," barked Kathleen sharply, defending Jon's honor before his brothers and sisters could. Robb had never heard Kathleen sound as mature as she did when she uttered just four simple words. She sounded like a queen.
"Ah, Katy," Joff cooed. "Ever the champion of fools, orphans and bastards."
"A champion of the people," Kathleen corrected. "You should take note, dear cousin. A king that is loved and respected rules longer than a foolish king that toys with his loyal subjects."
"I shall be feared as king," the Prince boasted, smiling smugly at those around him.
"Ask Aerys Targaryen how that play out?" Kathleen retorted just as smugly.
"There's a small detail you have overlooked. When your uncle is the Kingslayer, you have much less to fear," Joffrey mocked triumphantly, expecting to have silenced his cousin.
"Uncle Jamie and Jon could dethrone you without breaking a sweat," Kathleen stressed both her uncle's and Jon's name. She made it no secret she detested the use of the names her prince was using.
"Our uncle is sworn to protect me as a member of my King's Guard," Joffrey countered, making it cleared he was bored with their conversation. "And I would never dignify a bastard by crossing swords with him."
"You aren't king yet," Kathleen made cleared. "Besides," she teased, "it would save you the embarrassment. Jon is three times the swordsman I'll ever be, and the last time we crossed swords, I had you on your back faster than Greyjoy will have that serving girl."
The comment drew a large round of laughter from Theon and the Starks, minus Sansa.
"You mustn't say that to your future king," the gentle Sansa corrected.
"I'm not addressing my future king," Kathleen corrected. "I'm addressing my cousin who often forgets his place."
Joffery straightened up in his seat. His amusement of his cousin's antics was long gone, and he did not appreciate Sansa Stark's help of defending his honor.
"I lost because you cheated," he challenged. "You wouldn't stand a chance in a fair fight."
"Our uncle taught me there are two types of fighting," Kathleen explained. "The first is expected of great lords and knights during duals and the like where rules and courtesies are a scripted dance. Then there is a second kind the type of fighting used on the battlefield where even the small misstep could cost your life."
"If you expect your enemy to bow graciously before his king, prepare for a belly full of spear. I was only teaching you a valuable lesson. One day you may thank me."
Robb hung on ever word she spoke. Her eyes sparked with fire as she talked about fighting. The wildling spirit began to shine through the many layers of nobility her family forced upon her.
"When I sit the Iron Throne, yours will be the first sword I melt down to make a matching foot rest," her cousin challenged.
"When you sit the Iron Throne, I'd advise you watch your back, dear Joffrey," Kathleen smiled sweetly at the blonde prince. "It has been some time since we've had a rebellion. Queen of the Seven Kingdoms does sound lovely. I'll be sure to rest head on my finest spike."
Joffrey choked on the gulp of wine, causing the rest of the table to roar in laughter. Sansa rushed to his side to help her struggling prince. Robb beamed proudly at Kathleen. It took a very bold person, man or woman, to challenge the prince even in jest. Despite the fine clothing and the beauty of maturity, she was still the spirited girl that chased him around the grounds.
Kathleen knew her cousin would soon run to his mother's teet the minute the feast allow to share the "treacherous" words she jested. Perhaps Kathleen let herself revel more wine than she could handle, and she apparently gave herself more credit than she deserved in the matter of behaving.
Before Joffrey could offer an insult her way and make matters worse, Kathleen graciously rose to her feet.
"My dearest cousins, lords, and ladies," she bowed lowly. "As much as I hate to end our evening together, it has been a long day of traveling. I believe I shall retire for the night, but I thank you all for your wonderful company."
Ever the gentleman, Robb stood, bowing in returned.
"Shall I see you tomorrow?" he asked as he took her hand in his.
"As if you could rid of me that easily my lord," she smirked in returned. "Dream of me until you do. Sweet dreams, love."
Robb placed a gentle kiss on her hand as she departed, bowing one last time towards her dinner guests. The younger children teased Robb and Kathleen for their moment of affection. Kathleen turned her attention to the raised table to bid her leave.
"Lord and Lady Stark," she curtsied. "I thank you for sharing your meat and mead. It was a lovely fest. My grace, I ask for my leave."
Eddard and Catelyn Stark smiled proudly down at the young lady. She had grown into a beautiful, strong and smart woman almost unrecognizable to the wild terror that played in the mud with their children, though they did not hear the bold exchange between Kathleen and the crowned prince.
The Lord and Lady of Winterfell spent all evening watching their eldest son in the presence of Kathleen Lannister. The two were a perfect couple and spent the night in a giddy bliss. Catelyn took note of the smiles, whispered and touched shared. Seeing how much in love her son was in Kathleen's presence melted her heart. It would even melt the coldest of Northern hearts.
Robert was too drunk and too preoccupied with the serving girl even to comprehend Kathleen's words. Cersei nodded curtly and waved Kathleen away.
She bowed lowly before disappearing into the crowd the filled the hall. She weaved in and out of the squires and bannerman, disappearing deep within the masses to ensure no one could spot her.
Once she was satisfied she was out of sight from Stark and Lannister alike, Kathleen slipped into the quiet, brisk Northern night, searching for Jon Snow.
Jon was easy to spot in the deserted yards outside the castle. The grounds were empty with the only sound was the faint music and laughter drifted from the warmth of the Great Hall.
Kathleen strode towards his side, but a voice stopped her. Jon was not as alone as she first believed.
"Shouldn't you be inside enjoying tonight's festivities?"
"Uncle Tyrion," Kathleen greeted as she faltered mid-step, leaving her equidistance from Jon Snow and her uncle who was preoccupied with Jon's dire wolf. "I should be asking you the same question?"
Kathleen knelt by her uncle's side, admiring the white pup that almost towered of Tyrion. Her uncle seemed weary around the pup.
Kathleen held out her hand as the pup sniffed it carefully before his rough tongue licked her hand. She gently scratched the animal behind the ear.
"See, Uncle. He's harmless," Kathleen jested. "He knows friend from foe. All he wants is respect."
"I respect the fact that I could easily be his dinner," Tyrion muttered. "Don't think you can change the subject so quickly."
"Aunt Cersei gave me leave to retire to my quarters."
Kathleen eyed her uncle carefully. "I do believe your quarters are inside the castle," he mused.
"Though I'd take the scenic route," Kathleen smiled. "She didn't command me to retire right away."
"Alone in the dark with a bastard," Tyrion commented. "That is how rumors begin."
"They can't be worse than the things that are said when I'm alone with you, dear uncle," Kathleen teased as she ruffled the dire wolf's fur on top his head. "Rumors are told by fools who know nothing of the truth."
"Perhaps I am too drunk to recall ever seeing you this evening," Tyrion called as he drifted away towards the Great Hall. "Don't forget what I told you, bastard."
Kathleen watched her uncle waddle back inside. She rolled her eyes at his last comment. The gods only know what he shared with Jon.
"Don't listen to him," she laughed. "He is a lecherous liar when he is drunk, which is always. Now who is the handsome devil?"
Jon couldn't bite back the smile as Ghost nuzzled Kathleen's neck once she stopped paying him attention. She was right. Ghost was smart. He knew friend from foe quickly.
"Ghost," Jon answered.
Having escaped into the crisp evening air and his surprisingly comforting, but brief encounter with Lord Tyrion, Jon's head was clearer, yet he could not stop his heart from pounding.
For the first time since her arrival, he was finally alone with Kathleen.
"Why aren't you inside with Robb?" he questioned as he studied Kathleen as she doted on Ghost.
"Why are you alone in the dark when everyone else is inside drinking and laughing?" she gazed up at him with her patented Lannister smirk painted across her lips.
"There's no place for me at the feast," Jon answered, turning his attention back to the empty grounds.
"Then there's no place for me at the feast either," Kathleen replied. She stood up, dusting off her gown as she rose. "Suppose I could freeze in the night with you, pup?"
Jon smiled at the use of the pet name she had bestowed upon him long ago. It was a name only she called him, a name he had not heard in quite some time. The title held a special place in his heart, and his spirit soared to hear it roll off her tongue once more.
"Suppose there are worse people to freeze with, kitten."
Kathleen rolled her eyes as he countered with the name he gave her – Kitten of House Lannister. She playfully slapped his arm.
"What is that on your head?" she teased, reaching up to grab a strand of his raven locks, gently tugging it. Jon pushed her hand away not needing someone else to poke fun of his hair.
"I only jest. I like it." Kathleen defended with her hands up in forfeit. "You've grown up, Jon Snow."
"So have you kitten, but I don't believe you've earned a promotion to Lion yet."
"Walk with me," she ordered, grabbing Jon's arm to pull him along and giving him no choice. The two strolled around the empty grounds of Winterfell with just the frigid gust of the Northern wind as their company.
"What was that business with your uncle?" she questioned after a moment of comfortable silence. Jon knew she would jump down to the heart of matter quickly. Kathleen Lannister never wasted time.
"I'm ready to swear my oath to the Night's watch, but uncle Benjen doesn't think I'm ready," he answered.
Jon strolled in the dark with Kathleen on his arm, much like his brother did earlier that evening. Robb paraded Kathleen and his love for her for all of Winterfell to see. Jon's escort would be kept in secret.
"You aren't ready," Kathleen spoke. Jon tensed as she sided with his uncle, but softened as she continued. "I have no doubts you will one day be the finest Ranger the Night's Watch has ever seen, but we're young. The Wall will wait. We must enjoy that while the summer last. You know how I feel about this mess. Your place will always be in Winterfell with your brothers and sisters."
"No," Jon countered, "your place is here with your future lord husband."
A sad laugh escaped Kathleen's lips. "Loras Tyrell would be terribly upset if I remained in the North."
Jon abruptly stopped. The admission stunned him. His sudden halt pulled Kathleen backward towards his side. "Loras?"
Kathleen gazed down at the light snow on the ground, finding it the most interesting subject in the world. "My aunt has promised my hand to the Tyrells and is set to refuse Lord Stark's offer to join our houses."
"Please don't tell Robb," she begged Jon, finally meeting his eyes with tears filling her green orbs. "Not yet. I don't want his heart to shatter a moment before it has to."
"Kat…" Jon began, but he was unable to finish the sentence. He didn't have the words to comfort her. Jon knew better than anyone how much Kathleen loved his brother. She desperately counted down the moments to the day she would be joined to him forever.
Jon couldn't even imagine the crushing blow the news was to Kathleen. He understood the sadness in her eyes throughout the feast, and he admired her strength to put on the happiest of fronts for Robb.
He thought of his brother. When Robb hears the news, his devastation. Instead of remaining in Winterfell to plan their wedding, Robb would say goodbye to his beloved as she returned south to marry another.
"No more talk of the Night's Watch or Loras," Kathleen quieted him. "We have much happier things to discuss, pup."
Jon couldn't stop himself as he reached for her cheek to wipe away the lone tear that drizzled down her face. Their hands met for the briefest of moments.
"You Southern ladies aren't meant for the North," he teased, trying to return her smile. "Your hands are like ice. Here."
He claps his calloused hands, rough from long days of training with his brothers in the yard, around her small, soft hands.
She melted against his chest. Whether it was exhaustion from their long travel or the heartache of her impending future, Jon didn't know or care.
Jon pulled his cloak tight around her to keep her warm and held her close. He couldn't help but think this was the closest he had ever held a woman in his life.
He could feel her heart beating slowly against his and could smell the sweet perfumes in her hair. He tried to quiet the unnamed feelings swarming in his stomach as he held the Lannister beauty tightly in his arms.
"I missed you most of all Jon Snow," she sighed against his chest. "I am a lot to miss," he teased.
Kathleen laughed as she raised her head to stare at Jon with a teasing look. Before she could retort, Jon gently placed his hand against her head, pulling her tightly to his chest as he wrapped her arms around him, returning the hug.
"I missed you more, kitten."