Jon I

Sansa's singer Ulf was singing a ballad but down at this end of the hall his voice could scarcely be heard over the roar of the fire, the laughter of the Imp and the dark Targaryen girl as they traded some jape, and the whispers the golden one had elicited when she sat down at this table of young squires.

As soon as it was appropriate, Jon left the table. Sitting beside two Targaryens would not make Lady Stark look any kindlier upon him and there was no reason to make his last days at Winterfell harder than they already were. A bastard sitting with the queen's brother would be unacceptable as well, even if it was the dwarf brother. He went outside, took a piss and returned from another gate into the hall. The table nearest was empty, save for one boy. A silver-haired boy. Jon moved to take a seat, aware that it would give offense to go and sit elsewhere and cursed in his head. At least no one on the high table would be able to see him from there. Jon gestured to the seat opposite of the Targaryen and asked if it was free, more of a courtesy than a true inquiry.

The Targaryen nodded. "Always a place for bastards on my table."

Jon bristled and called for some ale. He resolved not to move despite how many insults he would have to tolerate.

The boy was looking at him closely and declined the jug of ale a maid brought. "I've heard that you're soon to become a lord, bastard," he said.

Jon clenched his jaw and the Targaryen leaned back on his chair, an almost satisfied expression on his face. "I've heard that you're soon to join the Night's Watch, Targaryen," he replied.

"Black was always my color," Targaryen said. "I suppose the New Lords of the New Gift will send half their taxes to Winterfell and half to the Wall?"

"My father will name those lords but they will take the oaths of the Watch and pay all tribute to the Wall," he informed the Targaryen, relishing just a little in his knowledge. "What was your name again, boy?"

The silver-haired face darkened a little, but his eyes were still amused. "You know the only name of mine that matters, Snow." The light in his eyes isn't due to being pleased, Jon realized with a chill and took a deep drink from his cup. A bastard had to learn to notice things, to read the truth that people hid behind their eyes but of this boy, Jon could detect nothing. His face remained cast of stone and respectful, if not polite, but his eyes made Jon want to run away. They reminded him of the Leech Lord's eyes, too pale and cold and eerie, concealing more than they told.

"The Targaryen name isn't one that deserves to be spoken in the halls of my grandfather and uncle."

"Fair enough," he replied with a subtle shift in his expression and Jon wasn't able to discern. "It's Kaeron."

"A rather unusual name," Jon commented.

"It's good enough for the Watch. I suppose I'll see you there, Snow, one bastard to another."

Jon was in no mood to feel any kinship with a stranger. "What the hell would you know about being a bastard?"

"All Targaryens are bastards these days," Kaeron replied lightly. "Of a kind or another."

Jon was about to reply before their table was intruded upon by the Crown Prince and Sansa. Kaeron was on his feet and giving a bow before Jon had even arisen, with a murmured "My lady, my prince."

Jon gave his own, less formal greeting and the prince gave him a winning smile. "My lady Sansa and I wished to see the direwolves, Ser Jon. Lord Robb asked me to request you to be a chaperone as he was 'going to water the rose' and would not be able to watch over us." Jon could practically hear the quotes around the words and the implication made him forget the thought of correcting the prince for his assumption on Jon's knighthood. Greyjoy had made a drunken jape about it in Robb's first years of marriage and they three had started using it as a code for the heir to Winterfell to fulfill his marital duties.

"I would be glad to, my prince." It was even true. With most of the other members of the hall drunk or on their way to it, he would only trust himself to watch over his sister, even if it was not his favorite one.

The prince gave a nod and, as if convincing himself of an endeavor, turned to his father's ward. "Would you like to join us, Kaeron?" He asked in the tone of a man offering peace.

Kaeron studied him for a moment before accepting and then they were off, Jon and Kaeron almost trailing the betrothed couple to give them the illusion of privacy while still being close enough to talk and hear. Sansa regaled them with stories of her playing with Bran and Rickon, and Jon realized with a frown that he, Robb and Arya were not present in any of them. When he tried to search for any memory of the four of them playing, he came up empty-handed. We three never brought Sansa to any of our games, did we? To stop the growing uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, Jon spoke up during a lapse in conversation. "Are you enjoying your stay at Winterfell, my prince?"

"I could not ask for anything more," the prince said with a look at Sansa that made Jon want to grimace.

"Oh?" Sansa's smile was teasing. She must like him a lot if she isn't acting like a proper lady. Or perhaps friendship was a part of courtship, Jon thought with a shrug. "Do you find Winterfell as pleasant as your friend, Lord Kaeron?"

"I would not presume to name the prince as one of my friends, Lady Sansa," was the reply.

"Whoever named you 'the Cloaked Lord' was more truthful than my father when he gave you your birth name, cousin," Prince Edwin remarked before his betrothed to answer.

Curiosity was evident on the faces of both children of Ned Stark but the boundaries of propriety had already been assaulted enough for a night, especially with the topic of their conversation walking beside them.

"Many do not live like the names given at birth, my prince," Kaeron said. "Rhaenyra was called the Realm's Delight when young and is now remembered as Maegor with Teats."

"Daeron was called the Young Dragon and he lived up to it," Edwin argued. Jon was of a mind to agree, the conqueror of Dorne was one of his heroes.

"All the heroes in stories do," Sansa agreed.

Kaeron looked past her, to where they had reached the edge of the godswood. "People like me do not end up in fairy tales. And if they do, it is not as heroes."

Willow's howl stopped any further conversation and Ghost followed her soundlessly. Sansa's Willow, the smallest of the litter was already the size of a pony and Jon's wolf was even larger. The two newcomers backed away, though the Targaryen did it slowly, taking care not to antagonize the beasts. Jon rubbed Ghost between the ears while Sansa gently encouraged the prince to approach Willow. Kaeron came near Ghost, close enough that Jon could see the alarm and calculation in his eyes, as he seemed to be trying to grasp the size the direwolves had grown to. "They could rout a small army on their own, Snow."

Jon suppressed a smile, remembering his pride when Ghost had grown to be the largest of his litter. "You can come closer. Ghost won't bite you, Targaryen. Not unless I tell him to."

The Targaryen reached his hand out and Jon was surprised to see that it didn't shake—even his lord father sometimes feared going near the direwolves without their master—as he rubbed the fur behind Ghost's ear. His wolf stared at him for a long moment before curling down on the ground and letting himself be petted. With a glance in their direction, Jon noted that Edwin was doing the same with Willow, though she was still looking at him guardedly.

"I've heard that your sister's wedding will take place in the godswood, Snow. Will the wolves be attending alongside their masters?" Kaeron's eyes were still on the wolf as he spoke, but his expression was curious instead of afraid.

"Arya refused to marry without Nymeria present, but the rest of the pack will be sent to the Wolfswood so they don't scare you southerners," Jon replied.

"Be careful than they don't wander too far. Would be a shame for you all to lose your pets, no matter how unusual they are."

"A Targaryen of all people shouldn't judge others for unusual pets, you know." Kaeron looked up at him and gave an amused look, the first expression of his that seemed real. "As for your worry, a wolf always returns to the pack, Targaryen."

"Because winter is coming?" Kaeron pipped. Jon couldn't help a laugh, which attracted the attention of the betrothed couple. Their eyes were wide at they looked at Jon and his companion and their faces—hastily made disinterested—couldn't hide the shock. "They look like they've seen a ghost," the Targaryen whispered to Jon with a meaningful glance at the albino wolf, and they shared a slight smile. It was gone completely when he rose up and walked to the prince and Sansa, so quickly that Jon thought he imagined it.

"It's getting late, my prince," Kaeron told him. "I would beg your leave to go to my chambers."

"It's not that late," Edwin argued. "The feast is still going on."

"Regardless, the people of Winterfell have Lady Arya's wedding to Ser Domeric to plan as well as the hunt organized for His Grace. I would prefer to retreat to the warmth of my chambers and also to not impede the work of people whose hospitality I am deeply generous for," Kaeron said dutifully. Despite being unable to read him well, Jon would tell the words were as untruthful as the previous ones to him had been otherwise.

"Perhaps it would be best to forestall the visit to the godswood until the morning, Edwin," Sansa proposed. "It would be wiser to go to the gods' realm in the morning."

Edwin still looked like he wanted to disagree but eventually he nodded at Sansa's words.

"Lady Sansa, Prince Edwin," Kaeron gave an unnecessary bow to each and left without another word. Jon was left with the unsavory task of following the betrotheds as Edwin escorted Sansa to her rooms—and bent down to kiss her hand after murmuring a farewell, which made his sister giggle—and to make sure the prince reached his quarters easily. Once he was done, knowing that sleep wouldn't find him so soon, Jon went to the library in the Maester's Tower. Bran was sitting there, reading under candlelight, with Summer sprawled across the floor. The wolf looked up as Jon neared silently, but his brother sat unaware.

"What are you reading?" Jon asked suddenly, hoping to spook him. Bran just gave him an unimpressed look which Jon answered with a shrug. "It's my duty as the elder brother to scare you into going to bed at the right time."

"It's my duty as the younger brother to try to jolt people when they're reading," Bran said with a roll of his eyes. "Or maybe it's Rickon's."

"I'm afraid you're mistaken there, younger brother. You are the adventurous annoying brother while Rickon is no man, and as wild as his wolf."

Bran snorted at that before quickly closing the book in his hand. Jon could not help but think the action was almost guilty. "What is it the you were reading?"

"Nothing," his brother replied, a little too loudly. Summer lifted his head to glare at Jon, and in the faint light of candles and lamps, his eyes looked almost human.

Jon did not feel threatened by the wolves that were more family that pets by now. "Bran, show me."

He reluctantly slid the tome to him and Jon read the title. "Black Brothers and White Snow: A History of the Night's Watch and the Rangings Beyond the Wall by Maester Cregan." Oh, Jon thought as understanding came to him.

"I want to see the Wall," Bran said, raising his chin defiantly.

"Your mother—"

"I don't care what mother thinks!" Bran cried. "I need to go north with you."

"But father will care what she thinks," Jon told him. "You are too young to take the black, Bran."

"You've wanted to join the Watch since you were fourteen," Bran reminded him.

"I'm not Robb's heir until he has a son. I'm just a bastard, but you will hold castles in Robb's name and be his most loyal lord."

Bran stared petulantly down at his hands and Jon could sense that he still believed himself to be in the right. "I don't want any of that….."

He put an arm around his brother and softened his tone, "I know we talked about seeing the Wall together but I need to go to the Watch alone for now. Once you're older, you can come visit me and we can even go walk beyond-the-Wall if you're not scared."

Bran didn't answer, picking his book and collecting Summer with a glance before leaving Jon alone to muse over the events of the night.