"Why's your mother so dead-set on us getting pretty for the king?" Jon complained, in line behind Robb to have his face sheared of hair as well.

"It's for the queen, I bet." Chimed in Theon Greyjoy, his father's ward, "I heard she's a sleek bit of mink." Jon rolled his eyes, the two of them never got on.

"I hear the prince is a right-royal prick," Robb smirked, "But I only hear praise for the princess, she's supposed to be a beauty." Theon threw Robb a knowing glance.

When Tom had scraped the rest of his hair from his face Robb stood, patting Jon on the shoulder roughly, "Go on Tommy, shear him good. He's never met a girl he likes better than his hair." Theon and Robb chuckled at his half-brother's expense as Jon looked more and more nervous.

Catelyn grew increasingly more worried as her children lined up beside her. Her youngest daughter was nowhere to be seen, her oldest was attempting to stand as tall as possible for his incoming bride, and her husband was eyeing the road in the stern anxious way he watched anything he thought might be dangerous.

"Where is Arya?" Catelyn looked from side to side, hoping her most wild girl had appeared in the time she had looked away, "Sansa," she called to her oldest daughter, "Where's your sister?!" Sansa shrugged her shoulders and Cat clicked her tongue. The great stampede that was the king and his men drew nearer, as the hoof beats and voices drew deafeningly louder.

Just then Arya appeared, running in what Cat could only imagine to be a helmet. Her lord husband snatched the girl's arm before she stood in line with her siblings.

"Hey, hey, hey," Ned said, almost amused, "what are you doing with that on?" He snatched the helmet off her head and handed it to one of him men behind him. She heard a small snort coming from her oldest, which Cat knew would only encourage Arya. "Go on," Eddard said as Arya pushed between Sansa and Bran.

The first to ride in was a knight of the king's guard, dressed in gold and white; next was who Cat could only assume to be the crown prince, followed by the infamous Hound.

After the three came in, what Catelyn could only describe being a giant carriage rolled past them. This was where the queen and princesses rode, she was sure.

Catelyn was wrong. Out behind the carriage rode the King, followed by none other than Princess Erina. She hurried to ride up to her brother and out of the way of her father.

The lot of them bowed deeply after her Lord husband, waiting for the king to descend off his horse and greet them. After a couple of moments, Ned was motioned to stand and the rest of them rose with Lord Stark. When Catelyn truly looked at the King she almost gasped, surely this couldn't be the same Robert Baratheon?

"Your grace," Ned said. They waited for what felt like an eternity before the king cleared his throat gruffly.

"You've got fat." The king practically spat. Ned Gave his the king a pointed once over before they both laughed and embraced as old friends. The king walked briskly to his daughter's black stead and offered her a hand, she took it and dismounted as gracefully as Catelyn had ever seen a lady descend from a horse. She just knew Arya was getting ideas.

She looked to her son who had been watching the girl so very closely.

The tales of her beauty weren't false. She had the Raven hair of a young Robert as well as the tan skin of a southerner, her eyes were big and green and her lips seemed to have turned slightly red in the cold, as well as sprinkling a natural blush over her cheeks. She was tall and long, queenly and graceful with every step.

Robb seemed to be frozen beside his mother.

"Cat," Robert smiled, pulling her into a hug and bringing her back to the present. He ruffled Rickon's hair slightly before moving on to her husband. "Nine years- why haven't I seen you? Where the hell have you been?" He asked Ned.

"Guarding the North for you, your grace," Her husband grinned like he was 20 again. The king then turned around like he had forgotten something, that something being presenting his daughter. Erina stepped forward, her riding dress made her look strong and feminine. Cat heard her son suck in a tight breath only loud enough for her and her husband to hear.

"This is my daughter, Princess Erina Baratheon," Erina slipped into a practiced curtsy for Ned and Catelyn, Ned smiled and kissed the girl's hand politely before turning to introduce his son.

"Your majesty, this is Robb of House Stark, heir to the North." The name was only used in situations such as these, when titles were exchanged. Erina curtsied again, her face like stone. Cat remembered the first time she came to the North, and how frightening it was, it was probably all the girl could do apart from cry. She'd explain to Robb when they went for the feast. There was an awkward silence before Robb remembered he had to greet the girl verbally.

"Princess, you are more beautiful than words could do you justice," he said too quickly,

"Thank you, My lord," The Princess replied, "I have heard great things about the heir to the north in Kingslanding."

The king stuck out his hand for Robb to shake and Robert whispered something that made her boy go slightly pale. He moved on to Sansa.

"My you're a pretty one..."

Erina disliked the boy already. He was too handsome, he'd be like her brother no doubt. The handsome and powerful always were. S

he could feel him eyeing her like meat, and she wouldn't mistake his trailing eyes for puppy love, just as she wouldn't mistake the teeth in his direwolf's mouth for pillows.

The redheaded girl was looking at Erina's brother like he was a knight from old stories, and Arya, the youngest girl, had stars in her eyes the moment she saw Erina on a horse. But out of all the sibling, save her fiancé, she was most curious about the one named Snow. Where was Eddard Starks infamous bastard? She had been told he looked like a copy of his father, and the king spoke of Ned Starks's compassion for the child as they rode home from the war.

Later that night she was left alone with her mother to get ready, the woman, usually prone to letting others care for her daughter, now had her hands working furiously to braid Erina's hair into an intricate knot atop her head.

"Do you think I'll like him? Robb Stark?" Erina asked her mother seriously, "What if he thinks I'm too quiet or cold?" Erina had heard over the years, whispers behind her back calling her an icy and pretentious princess, but she just couldn't make herself warmer with the snakes of court, it felt too revealing.

"Then he is a shallow boy who you'll have to teach to be deeper, it can be done, little doe." Her mother replied, "But remember, you cannot change a boy's nature. He will always be a man."

"He's handsome," Erina remarked,

"Your father was handsome," Cersei said. "And now he's a whoring drunk who's sold you off because he couldn't marry Ned Starks sister. Handsome men don't always stay handsome, they get fat and cruel because they are men."

"I wish I never had to be married, I wish I could stay with you and uncle Jamie forever." It was a childish thing for her to say, more childish than anything she'd said in quite some time, "Could you make him end the engagement? Please?" Her mother didn't answer.

"I'm sorry, little doe," was all she said.

Erina slipped into a scarlet dress to match her mother's red and gold one, her hair lay styled upon her head. She always liked how red made her black hair look sleek and her eyes look greener. Her mother dressed Myrcella quickly, and the three departed for the great hall together.

She met Robb outside the door, he would be escorting her inside. He looked the part of a dashing young lord, freshly shaved, his curly red Tully hair with a hint of Stark in the way the brown highlighted it. He was dressed in sleek black and looked even more nervous than he had when they'd arrived.

"Princess you look radiant," Robb smiled at her, she couldn't help the small blush that lit her cheeks before she reminded herself she didn't like this situation. Gods she was usually so unaffected by the boy's words. "How are you finding your rooms? We can send up extra blankets if you're cold or perhaps wine if you're thirsty?"

"Your hospitality is heartwarming, I'll let you know if there's anything we need," A boy behind her snickered and she turned to see who made the sound. A tall lanky boy with a thin face closed his mouth tight at her gaze.

"You must be Jon Snow," Well she didn't think he looked anything at all like Ned Stark. All the Stark children laughed.

"That's Theon Greyjoy," Robb smiled down at her, "My fathers Ward,"

"My apologies, Lord Greyjoy," She said politely. Theon's face turned a bright red.

"Think absolutely nothing of it, Princess." He said quickly before the rest of the children snickered at him instead.

"Don't mind him, your highness, he's never been called lord before," Robb smirked as Theon turned even more red, (if that was possible).

She looked at everyone, Sansa looked like she was about to faint at the idea of being escorted by Joff, who looked bored entirely, Myrcella was on the arm of the young Brann, and Tommen was clutching onto a perturbed-looking Arya. They all looked well-matched.

The king and Catelyn Stark entered first, then her father and the queen followed by the children, Theon Greyjoy and sweet Rickon who was happy by himself.

As they walked in, Erina found the real Jon Snow immediately, he looked more like the lord than any of the true Starks did. He was sitting at the table with the squires and she caught his eye before she was seated next to Robb.

"Why is your brother down there?" She asked Robb after a moment,

"My mother thought it might offend the queen if he was seated among her children," Robb said briefly,

"You're lucky," she told him, "I don't know any of my bastard siblings, just that they exist in abundance," They both looked over at the king who was drinking heavily from a goblet with a curvy woman bouncing ungracefully on his lap. "My mother's used to it," She told Robb when he look appalled.

"I would kill my father for offending my mother like that," Robb told her seriously. Perhaps he wasn't like most men after all.

The night passed quickly and soon she grew tired and her head began to ache. Her uncle got up to leave and she took the opportunity to escape. She said goodnight to Robb and her mother before being escorted by Tyrion back to her rooms.

Jon chopped away at the practice dummy in front of him.

He was sure that Robb was the luckiest man alive. He had never seen a girl so beautiful, she was perfect in every sense of the word and a usually content Bastard found himself jealous of his older half-brother. Robb had it all, the title, the family, and now a princess.

"I've always wanted to see the wall," Remarked a short blond man who must have just been listening to his conversation with his uncle Benjen about joining the Night's Watch,

"Tyrion Lannister, the queen's brother?" He asked the Dwarf.

"My greatest accomplishment." Tyrion quipped, "And you-you're Ned Stark's bastard, aren't you?" Jon turned to walk away, he wouldn't be insulted by these southerners. "Did I offend you? Sorry." Called Tyrion, "You are the bastard though."

"Lord Eddard Stark is my father," Jon replied shortly.

"And Catelyn Stark is not your mother. Making you the bastard." Tyrion walked closer to the retreating boy, "Let me give you some advice bastard, don't forget what you are, the rest of the world will not-"

"-Uncle," A silky voice interrupted, "I hope you're not being mean." Jon turned to see none other than the princess in her scarlet gown walking toward them.

"Me, mean. Never." The Dwarf smiled, "Excuse my niece, she does like her people watching," Tyrion smiled at Jon, "Erina you can escort yourself to bed?"

"Yes, Uncle,"

"Then goodnight my niece," Tyrion smiled, "I've had far too much to drink I'm afraid."

"Goodnight," Princess Erina said. After her uncle had disappeared into the darkness, the princess turned to him. "You are so lucky that you can come and go as you please." She said, picking up a training sword, having not touched one in more than a year. She had had a lot to drink herself and was feeling bold. "Can you keep a secret, Jon Snow?" She asked him.

"Yes," answered the boy, drawing closer. He looked as though he'd had one too many glasses of wine.

"I'm going to be married soon." She told him. Jon Snow laughed.

"I think I knew that secret, princess."

"Well I'm not going to tell you if you interrupt," She smirked, sitting down next to a pile of training equipment. Jon Snow sat down next to her,

"Sorry Princess," Jon Snow spoke softly.

"Well, my secret is I don't want to marry your brother." She put it simply.

"The two of you seemed to be getting on well enough at dinner," Jon Snow remarked, she looked at his sweet face. staring a second too long.

"Yes, well, do you want to marry every girl you get on well with?" The bastard looked to the ground in front of them, "What, not a lot of girls around Winterfell?" She teased.

Jon ignored her question, "So why don't you want to marry Robb?" He said, changing the topic.

"Well he's plenty handsome, potentially a powerful lord, he's everything I should want in a husband."

"But-"

"But I'm ten and five, I don't want to be married." She sighed, burying her hands in her face, "I mean you're ten and seven, would you want to get married two years ago?" Jon didn't say anything. "My point," she said gesturing to him.

"I thought all ladies wanted to do was get married and have babies, that's all Sansa talks about." Jon remarked after a second, "She wishes it was her marrying Joffrey and not Robb marrying you."

"She wouldn't wish that if she got to know Joff, he's a right prick." Jon laughed a little too hard, "And what of Arya? Is it all that she can talk about?" Erina pressed.

"No," Jon said, sounding a little annoyed, "But Arya's not like most ladies,"

"And how many ladies besides your sisters have you met exactly to draw this conclusion? Or are you just basing it off of what Theon Greyjoy and Robb have told you?"

"I've met girls- plenty of girls!" Jon stood from where he was sitting, picking up his sword and striking it against the dummy in front of him. "Just because I don't brag about it like your betrothed." Jon looked at the girl intently, her dress flared from her hips and stretched across the ground where she sat, her eyes were dancing. A small pit of anger bubbled in his chest, she was Robb's.

"Well, you sure act like you never had," Erina said hotly, getting up herself. "And what exactly is your problem with me marrying your brother? You don't know me, you can't say you're jealous." Jealous. Yes, that was the word. Jealousy, not anger seemed to be spreading through his body and into the words that fell from his mouth.

"Why don't you head to bed, princess?" Jon snapped, "I'm sure Robb will want you to get your beauty sleep." Erina scoffed, picking up the wooden sword she was touching earlier and holding it out towards him.

"There it is, what's your issue?" Jon threw down his sword, marching over and grabbing the training weapon from her hands, just inches from her face he could see the flecks of gold in her green eyes catching the light of the torches.

"Why should Robb be handed a princess?" He said in a whisper, the wine was making him angrier than he otherwise would have been, his mind was foggy, "A princess he doesn't have to win and doesn't want him?"

"You're drunk," Erina said, "I can smell it on you."

"Are you scared?" Jon asked her.

"No." She answered too quickly, Jon was staring at her intently, his face inching closer to hers every second, "Jon what are you doing?" It was a whisper, as he pressed his lips softly to her own. She gasped, quickly pulling away from him and giving him a small shove.

"You Bastard!" A voice yelled from behind them, from out of what seemed like nowhere Robb Stark appeared, marching up to his brother and her with what looked like murderous intent. He grabbed Jon by the collar and pulled him away from her. "How dare you!" Robb hissed. "How dare you take advantage of an unattended girl, let alone a princess, let alone my intended! Draw your sword Snow!"

"Robb he's had too much to drink, we were just talking and he did something stupid. Robb put your sword away." The Stark heir did no such thing, ignoring her words and drawing his weapon. Jon was completely unhelpful, as he drew his sword as well. "Robb, listen to me I am your princess!"

"You don't understand, Erina." Robb snapped, "He's taken your honor!" Erina knew what she had to do, she ran to Robb, putting her hands gently on his chest, pulling his face down to meet hers.

"He's just a jealous drunk boy. No one but you saw-" Robb grunted something unintelligible, "I'm yours, my honor is yours." Robb looked down into her eyes and then back over to his brother. Robb had been drinking. She hated drunk men, "Please, I'm cold, escort me back to my room?" Robb was staring daggers at Jon behind her but still nodded, pulling away from her and walking over to Jon who had dropped his sword to the ground.

"I only saw her pushing you away so I'm going to assume you were the instigator. We're going to forget this for the Princesses sake, but I won't see you anywhere near her from now on." Robb warned, he turned back to face her but then clenched his fist and swung behind him, hitting Jon square in the jaw and sending him backward into the snow. "Be grateful I hold love for you," He spat.

Erina woke the next morning to a great commotion and hurried outside, hoping it had nothing to do with last night. Her heart sunk in her chest as saw the lifeless body of a hopefully just unconscious Brandon Stark.

A week later Erina had done her best to help lady Stark in any way she knew how. She sat with Sansa and Arya, leading them in prayer as their mother sat by Bran's bedside. Erina had taken them to her room so that Lord and Lady Stark could focus on Bran, the girls had been praying by the fire for hours.

"And let the mother protect Bran as he returns to health," Erina said, holding the girl's hands.

"And may she nurse him as he heals," Said Sansa,

"And may her spirit fill him with strength," whispered Arya. She had taken Bran's fall hard.

"Arya, Sansa?" A man's voice interrupted. Erina turned her head to see Lord Stark in the doorway. "It's time for bed girls." They stood, and Erina gave them as warm of a smile as she could before they walked slowly out of the room.

"It's kind of you," Lord Stark said, "To sit with them."

"It's nothing My Lord," The princess sighed, "They will be my sisters someday, it's the least I can do." Lord Stark gave her a weak smile. "How is Lady Catelyn doing?" She asked him. Her father's friend ran a hand through his hair.

"My wife is a woman who loves her children with her whole heart." Replied Ned, "She will not be at peace until her son returns to health." Erina nodded, closing the prayer book that lay open on her lap.

"These are not the gods you worship, are they?" She asked him standing from her spot near the fire, "I could learn some different prayers to read to the girls if that would bring more comfort?" Erina could see the stress on the older man, barely more than a week since they arrived and Erina could see it present on his face.

"In the north actions speak louder than words, princess," Ned Stark picked up her prayer book from its resting place by the hearth. "I care not who you pray to but if you are praying at all," He handed her the text. "You pray to the gods you know. The more that hear it the better."

"You and my father are very different men." Erina commented, "He spoke of you as though you were his brother, yet the king and you could not be more dissimilar,"

"I hardened in the North princess, and your father had to rule a kingdom, the two paths couldn't be more different-"

"-yet I don't believe you would act the way my father does, Lord Stark." Erina had been more than embarrassed when her father had continued to... sample the women of the North, while the Starks prayed for their hurt son. "I can't apologize for his lack of sympathies but I can offer my service to your family in any way I can. Including watching over your daughters while I'm able."

"Robert has never been good at sympathies, child." Ned said quietly, "I'm glad you'll be my son's wife, the two of you will be a fine match indeed."

Jon Snow had been nursing his jaw by himself for the past week. He had been so stupid, when had he ever stepped on Robb's toes? And now he started with kissing his Fiancé? Bran also occupied his thoughts, his father's wife hadn't let him see his brother, so all he had heard were reports on how he was doing.

There was never a better time to leave for the wall, he certainly couldn't stay in Winterfell with Catelyn Stark and he knew he wouldn't be able to go to court with his father. Robb hadn't talked to him since that night and he didn't want to stick around to see him with his bride anyway.

He had been walking around at night recently, stretching his legs since he wanted to remain hidden during the day. That night he decided to walk to the training arena, to see if he could practice his stances a little more before he went to the wall. The clang of swords stopped him in his tracks.

He hid in the shadows, curious to see who was training in the dead of night.

"Sword up!" Hissed the taller figure, he was dressed in knight's armor but Jon couldn't make out his face. The second figure was a short boy, dressed in a commoner's clothes. Jon wondered just who these people were. He continued to watch in amazement, the fight was extraordinary, intense, and so skilled. Every block was met with equal force, each sharp clang of their swords was followed by a quick movement of their feet. They circled each other, the taller one had the advantage, he swung down and the boy rolled out of the way, a hat that adorned the boy's head was thrown off releasing long hair, too long for it to be a boy's. Now Jon could see their face a little clearer.

That was no boy.

That was the princess.

"You're distracted." Her uncle commented, offering her a hand up, "You can't be that upset over the boy." She took it, bringing herself to her feet.

"He's not just any boy." Erina retorted, "He's going to be my family, uncle." Jaime Lannister scoffed.

"The Starks will never be your family. You'll be married to Robb Stark and have his children but he won't be your family. Just like your mother isn't Roberts family." Erina threw down her sword.

"I won't ever get married to anyone like my father. Robb Stark is nothing like my father!"

"That's what you want to think." Her uncle told her, "But you need to be ready if he is. I curse myself every day for not telling Cersei to kill Robert."

"Uncle!" She hushed, "Never say a thing like that aloud!" Just then a small sound from around the corner drew her attention, luckily her uncle didn't hear it. "I'd like to be done for tonight." She said, "I'm tired and it's too damn cold here."

"You'll have to get used to the cold, Lady Stark,"

"Oh gods, don't call me that." She groaned.

Her uncle laughed and told her goodnight, walking off to his room in the castle. Another small thud made her sure a person of some capacity was hiding in the dark. She picked up her sword and quietly snuck forward, Erina hadn't fought anyone for real in quite a while.

She rushed forward, turning the corner to find none other than Jon Snow.

"Damn it, Snow!" She whisper-yelled, "You'd be dead right now if my uncle had caught you!" Snow said nothing, just looked her up and down. She almost winced when she was his chin, bruised and cut from his brother's punch.

"You can fight." He said blankly.

"Stunning observation." Erina tucked the training sword into a holster and crossed her arms over her chest, "Are you going to tell your brother?"

"Robb wouldn't mind-"

"-Are you going to tell him?!" She hissed, "And remember who you're speaking to."

"Your secret's safe with me princess." Jon rolled his eyes,

"Perfect," Erina smirked, "Then pick up your sword." Jon looked at her incredulously.

"I'm not fighting a girl."

"Jaime Lannister fights me, and he's a knight of the Kingsguard. Do you think you're better than a knight of kingsguard, Jon Snow?"

"No, stop that's not what I'm-"

"Wonderful, then pick up your sword."

They stood on opposite sides, Jon holding his sword loosely in his right hand. He finally walked towards her, giving her an experimental blow which she easily deflected and countered. She was quick and Jon barely had time to block a deadly hit. The next hit he struck a little harder, but this one she dodged, stepping behind him and using the flat side of her sword to hit him firmly on the arse.

"Come on then Jon Snow," She laughed, taking a couple of steps with her back turned to him, "I heard you were good with a sword." She spun on her heel to face him, "Don't tell me you're afraid." At Erina's words, he charged her.

Jon attacked hard this time, and though he wasn't particularly skilled he was certainly strong with a sword, the blade looking like an extension of his hand when he moved. The clanging of their swords was like music to Erina's ears, and their movements were akin to dancing.

As soon as they were comfortable one of them changed the rhythm, speeding up or slowing down accordingly. Finally, she had enough, she faked moving in one direction but then stepped in the other, hitting him in the back firmly with her handle and sending him off his feet.

He was laughing when she offered him a hand up.

"No one would ever believe me," he chuckled, "Gods- your uncle taught you how to do that?"

"He wanted me to be able to protect myself." Erina smiled, slightly out of breath.

"Well, I'd say you can do a little more than that." Jon Snow pointed out, "Same time tomorrow night then, princess?"

"We'll see, Snow," She laughed, hanging her sword where she found it.

That night she went to sleep with a smile.

And that's how her time in Winterfell was spent. During the day she would pray with the Starks, eat with her family, then practice her swordsmanship with Snow. By their fourth day of training Jon's Direwolf, ghost, took to escorting her from her rooms to her late-night meetings with his master.

"You're slow Jon," She commented after dodging another one of his blows, "so heavy on your feet," she tsked.

"I'm not slow princess, you're just smaller than the average man I've fought," She stepped out of the way of another swipe, he groaned, annoyed, "I have to be quicker fighting you."

"Excuses excuses," She smirked. Her tactic with Jon was to dance around him, get in a couple of good swings and then repeat. She didn't want to get too close since he was far stronger and had a longer reach. Erina was sure Jon wasn't thinking about strategy as he fell into her every trap. Jon Snow didn't seem to think about his next move at all. "You're so easy to trick Jon Snow. Try waiting a second before you waste all your energy attacking."

"I know how to swing a sword!" Jon hissed. He was tired and was beginning to swing erratically.

"How's about this Snow," She taunted, "If you can put me on the ground I'll let you kiss me," This took him back and allowed her to shove her shoulder into him, making him fall into the slightly snow-covered ground.

Erina giggled at his shocked face and didn't see his leg that swept under her own, knocking her to the ground with him. He grabbed her wrists, holding her down and smirking as he hovered over her.

"How's about that kiss princess?" Jon teased, looking down at the girl under him.

She was more beautiful like this than she was in a gown, hair a mess, breathing heavily, her cheeks red. He realized then he was just staring at her. And realized furthermore that she was just staring at him. She gently took her wrist from where he was holding it and reached up, touching his chin so softly he could only feel the wisps of her fingers. Jon's heart was beating faster than he knew possible as she snaked her hand around his head and pulled him down for a kiss.

It was sweet, surprising in nature, and exhilarating because of its forbidden nature. But Jon's heart burned as he thought of his brother and pulled away.

"What are you doing?" She asked, her voice low,

"I can't," Jon said, rolling off of her and quickly standing. The princess was hot on his trail as he tried to walk away.

"You can't?" She asked softly, he could hear her anxious tone.

"It's not worth it." He said coldly, sheathing his sword, not looking back as he walked away.