Sickbed

Jon waits in the hallway in front of Robb's door. He cannot enter the chamber, Old Nan was quite strict about that.

"Robb is sick, very sick," she had said, and Jon's heart had sunk.

Father was sick and now Father is dead and Robb… Jon cannot bear the thought. He must see him. He must know that his brother is… that he is still …

The door opens and Lady Stark steps out.

"Snow." When she pronounces his name, it sounds like disapproval or complaint.

"I came to Robb."

She does not reply but her face is cold and stern.

"Please," Jon continues in a hurry, almost pleadingly. "I can help. I can watch him, take care of him. I change the pack on his forehead and give him water."

"You can't," Lady Stark says, wearily. "You won't." She shakes her head. "You aren't supposed to be here."

Suddenly she steps to Jon and puts her palm on his cheek, then his forehead. Her hand is cool, wet, soap-scented.

She sighs.

"Go back to your chamber. I don't want another sick child."

Thinking that Jon will obey, she starts making her way through the hallway.

"Lady Stark."

She turns back and raises her eyebrows, irritated.

Jon struggles with the words. "Robb… he will... he won't…" He cannot say it aloud. If he does, it will become too real.

Lady Stark understands him anyway.

"No, of course not." Her voice softens a little but when Jon does not move, she scowls.

She walks back to Jon and embraces him.

And Jon allows it, in astonishment.

He cannot hug her, of course. He would never dare to.

But it is still good.

When he relaxes, Lady Stark releases him, then, turns away and leaves.