The armoury in Winterfell was empty for which was grateful, he just wanted a little time to himself without others watching him, attempting conversation with him or in Theon's case taunting over his mother and the king. Over the fact that although he was now claimed as a trueborn rather than a bastard, that John should not get use to the feeling because despite all that had been revealed he was still, and would always be seen, as a bastard in the eyes of most if the people who had known him his entire life.

Jon crossed the chamber over to where the practice swords were lined up leaning against the wall, picking one up and testing the weight and the grip in his hand, at least this weapon felt real, the only thing that did, unlike his feelings that were still so mixed up. He knew he should feel happy that he was no longer viewed as a bastard, as something that had no right to be living especially living in Winterfell with decent people but he could not shake the annoying creeping feeling that there were those who saw him also as a usurper, the Lannister's certainly did!

The week or so had made so much in life seem pointless, the idea and wish he had had to go and serve on the wall, to gain some measure of respect was a faraway dream now, he knew the king would never allow him to choose his own path on life, although he had promised Lord Stark that he would, Jon knew the man would not.

He sighed as he placed the sword back on the rack with the other swords, there was no point in his hoping that he could still go and join his uncle on the wall, protecting the land and its people from what lay in the frozen wasteland beyond the wall.

Standing tall or as tall as he could for someone who's fate was now unknown he made his way out of the armoury towards his chambers, there was another feast being held in the great hall tonight and he knew if he did not attend it would be noticed, a small smile graced his face as he thought back to the time before the king had come to Winterfell and disrupted his life and his future with the drunken words he had uttered that night, Jon would give anything to be able to return to the anonymity that being a bastard had afforded him.

XxX

The great hall of Winterfell was filling up with people eager to fill their bellies with the best that the Stark kitchens had to offer, the aroma of roasting meat could be smelled upon the air and the tables already were loaded up with platters of bread, freshly baked that day, some still warm as they had long been taken from the ovens, their smell causing the mouths of those already sat at the table to water with anticipation of the first bite.

Lords and ladies, men-at-arms, knights and commoners all sat at their various tables, talking , laughing at the events of the day and at some of the events of the past few days, some simply sat and watched others within the great hall and watched for those who had yet to enter the hall and the feast to begin.

The glistening, flickering light from the torches lighting the thick stone walls of the hall showed those who entered and it was not long before the royal family entered, the Starks with them and they took their place at the high table, looking out over those who had gathered for the nights feasting and one was missing the new prince, the one that had been raised at Winterfell, Jon.

The king looked around the hall looking for his son, he could not see him and was about to bellow when he spotted the young man entering the hall from a doorway at the back of the great room. Jon moved through the tables, the eyes of almost everyone watching him as he made his way to the high table. He was uncomfortable with the eyes of all those who watched him as he made his way towards his family and the royal party.

Jon gave is apologies to those already sat at the high table before he took his place, on the smaller table set close to the high table down next to his cousin Arya, although he still in his heart thought of the young girl as his sister. She made room for him, giggling quietly when another made to move, obviously not happy at moving but there was no choice as there was not much room at the table.

The king frowned at Jon's choice of seating but there was not a lot he could do about it, he could bellow and hollow and demand his son sat at the table he was at but something held him back, he thought perhaps it might be the common sense he had once processed but he thought most likely not. He knew that the relationship with his son was shaky, that the boy did not fully trust him and it wounded him somewhat, thinking that his son was wary and untrusting of him, so he let the matter slide and allowed his son to sit where he obviously felt more comfortable.

Heat from the fire made the hall seem a cosy warm place, the tapestries hanging on the wall leant to the cosy feel of the wall that some people felt within it but for some already present, it did not feel warm but oppressive, a feeling of danger to them but not a danger they could explain if they were to do so. It was something, a feeling floating on the currents of air that made a few glance up in apprehension of what was to come to Winterfell and the north.

It felt as though winter was truly coming!