Chapter 4

Nysa's hands shakily held the tray as she approached Torrhen's room. She knew he would have no maid in there now but that was only because he was expecting her. What if he had already met a serving maid down at the stables? She felt a tight grip on her heart and for a moment couldn't breath as images of Torrhen with another entered her mind. No, he wouldn't. She shook it off and tried to remember the words he spoke to her earlier. Nysa must have been outside for quite some time because before she could call out his name or knock on the door, it opened for her and revealed Torrhen smiling in the entryway.

"Here, let me," he took the tray from her and brought it towards a table. "It appears as though you have taken a lot from the kitchen. I thought it would just be the two of us."

"It is but I," she looked down shyly, "I had the cook make the meat and other dishes just how you like it. He decided to make the entire rack like that instead of just one small pot."

"Thank you," he said with a smile as she moved the plates and began placing food on them.

They ate and chatted lightly about Alys and his mother's well-being. She inquired after Harrion and Eddard who had sent their regards with him. They were looking forward to a letter from her once she arrived in King's Landing. She showed shocked that Harrion and Eddard would want a letter.

"No one in our family has been that far South," he replied. "My father went as far as Seagard when the Ironborn rebelled. Harrion had not left because our father wanted someone to protect my mother, just in case. Other than that, no one has ever seen the Capital. It would be an amazing tale to be told."

"I should wait for something exciting then before I write," she smiled.

"Will you write," Torrhen asked her seriously.

"Of course," she answered.

"To me," he questioned then. Nysa sighed as she pushed her plate back. "I believe that your feelings for me have not changed, Nysa. Your brother knows of this. If he didn't, he would not have taken this long to mull over the decision of giving your hand to me."

"As I said it is more than that. My Lord Uncle wishes to meet me. For some reason both my brother and Lord Stark say that my Uncle should be the one who chooses my husband."

"But you could tell him that your heart is here..."

"It was," she straightened out.

"Was," Torrhen stared at her.

"Yes, you already had it but broke it!"

Torrhen sighed and looked down. She slumped back in her chair. Tonight was supposed to be a nice dinner and instead they were arguing again. A part of her couldn't forgive him completely and she knew why.

"I must know, Torrhen. How can you claim to return my feelings when you take another to your bed?"

"By imaging it was you," he whispered. He lifted his head to gaze at her. "Did you not feel my attraction for you, every day we were together? That day we rode out towards Amber tower and I held you in my arms and kissed your shoulder," his hand reached out and ran up her arm lightly. "Then there was the time you glided around the yard in those breeches," he smiled and shook his head. "I was so tempted by you when you began to braid your hair like my cousin's."

Before Nysa knew it, Torrhen's hand had reached behind her head and slowly began undoing her braid. His fingers ran through her long brown hair, untangling the waves so gently that she closed her eyes and sighed. He continued until her hair fell about her face.

"I've always wanted to do that," he confessed, "run my fingers through your hair just before we retire for the night."

Torrhen looked at her then, her eyes closed and her mouth parted before leaning in to kiss her. It was not the first time they had kissed but it felt just like it. His lips pressed softly to hers, letting the simple touch sink in.

"It would have been wrong of me to take you in Karhold as though you were mine. You should have your brother walk you to the Godswood, place your hand in mine while we stood in front of the heart tree. We would have grand wedding and a lavish feast where my brothers and the other men would fight to dance with you, my beautiful bride."

Torrhen kissed her one more time before pulling back.

"I could not rob you of that. My mother had been trying to convince my father for some time, Nysa," he said which caused her to open her eyes at look at him. "If I did not hold you in such high regard, I would have bedded you and wed in a simple, secret ceremony. That simply would not do because you are worth more than that, you are worth it to me. Every day you seduced me, aroused me, tempted me. I wanted nothing but to have you. It was wrong of me to take those other maids yet somehow, I knew that I could not dishonor you. I did not want to treat you as though you were a serving maid or a bastard girl."

"But I am."

"You are so much more than that to me, Nysa. I wanted to bed you as my wife. I know my behavior was appalling and you may never forgive me for that. I would not forgive myself. But believe me Nysa, I do love you and I do want to wed you."

Nysa leaned forward and kissed Torrhen deeply. He tasted the tears on her lips and knew that though she may not have forgiven him, her feelings for him were still there. She encouraged him towards the bed then. And though he resisted as much as possible, he could not deny himself one last passionate embrace. He moved her dress to reveal more skin as his lips tasted her body. Her hands danced along his arms and chest as she moaned and sighed beneath him. He could not stand the thought of her Lord Uncle allowing her to wed someone in the South. His kisses grew aggressive as he pictured her with another man.

"Torr," she cried out when he took off her dress, leaving her in a rather tantalizing shift.

"Nysa," he groaned and pushed himself back. "We cannot."

She rolled her hips up. His cock felt her warmth through his breeches and that last bit of material on her. It would have been so simple to undo his laces and push that thin material on her away. She would have to stay with him then. But he remembered his promise to her, the words he had spoken of just now.

"If tonight is all that we have," Nysa whispered, pulling him back down and hooking a leg around his hips.

"No, Nysa, I cannot dishonor you."

"Torr..."

"Nysa," he rest his forehead against hers. Slowly she untangled herself and he had to lean down to kiss the tears that appeared. "Come back to me," he kissed her neck, feeling her pulse quicken underneath his lips. "Come back to me and I will make you mine."

"We're here together now," she smiled flirtatiously up at him.

"And should Lord Stark find that I dishonored a maiden under his protection, in Winterfell," Torrhen looked around before glancing back at her.

"So, it has nothing to do with my virtue, rather..."

Nysa moaned as Torrhen pressed his lips to hers, fiercely feasting on the passion between them, molding his body to her heat. Every part of her tingled and she was sure that she would never know such attention and care as she would from Torrhen. Her heart was soaring and she never wanted it to end. But end it did as Torrhen slowed his assault in an attempt to calm his ever growing arousal.

"I want to make you my wife, Nysa. I highly doubt Lord Stark would oblige me the honor if I show him any disrespect," he nibbled on her jaw and suckled on her soft skin. "Let us wait. Let us think of forever instead of just this one night."

That night, she insisted that she stay in his room, in his bed, in his arms. Again, she told him that tonight could be all that they had together. Her Lord Uncle could very well have her wed another in the South. Torrhen pondered on that as he held her body close to his. He had always imagined what it would be like to sleep with her in his bed, her head tucked against his chest and her body molded to his. Torrhen tried not to think on how her hips had curved or how her breasts felt fuller as her body pressed against his. There was a stirring sensation in his breeches and he did his best to keep those thoughts and emotions at bay. It would do him no good now. Even her soft breaths seemed to have intoxicated him further than he ever thought.

"Gods let this not be our last night," he begged.

Surely her Lord Uncle could not be wedding her to someone for political gain. Perhaps he had no daughters and sons. Perhaps he wanted to make Nysa his heir. He was not sure of it. But as he held her tightly, her warmth overtaking him, he hoped that her Uncle would allow her to wed for love.

"Come back to me," he whispered against her hair as she stirred slightly in her sleep.

The next morning, she walked with him down towards the stables. No one had awoken from their slumber yet. And that was a good thing because he did not desire anyone to question her honor. He informed the few guards he had brought with him that they would be riding out with the rest of the Stark guards as she combed the mane of his horse. She had done it more than a few times back in Karhold. He remembered her riding with him as they went along the coast - after a while he insisted that she had to ride behind him for fear that she'd feel his cock against her bottom.

"So, have you won her back," Waylyn - one of House Karstark's guards - asked with a knowing smile.

"That remains to be seen," Torrhen looked at her.

She turned then, laughing at something his horse did. He walked towards her and took his hand in his.

"Tell me what I need to do to make you mine," Torrhen said suddenly. Waylyn motioned for the other guards to leave them alone. "I will do whatever it takes, Nysa."

Nysa thought for a moment. She did not expect him to utter such a declaration as that. Though they had discussed it and both knew that they cared for the other, nothing was truly set upon. She knew how the ideas of lordship and wedding worked hand in hand. There would still be other circumstances to work out - and if she were so fortunate they'd consider her demands.

"What do you want, Nysa," Torrhen asked again.

"I will not share you, Torr. You cannot ask me to stand by and watch you bed another."

"I have not taken anyone to my bed since that night you came to me," he confessed.

"So long," she whispered in confusion.

"I realized my error and I have endeavored to refrain from committing it again. Should you accept me, there will never be a day that goes by that you will doubt that I love you and only you."

"I have nothing to give you."

"I desire nothing but your loyalty, strength and love," he kissed her hand.

"You rejected me," she shook her head and looked down.

"Once we are wed, I will never turn you away," he smiled, "and if you wish it, I will bed you every night." Nysa slapped his arm before shaking her head and smiling at him. "I am sorry for making you think that I did not want you. But if you give me the chance, Nysa, I will show you how very much I need you."

She smiled lightly. "You best talk again to my brother," she answered.

"Truly?"

She nodded before squealing in delight as he picked her up and spun her about. He settled her on her feet and kissed her fiercely. Her lips were soft and sweet. But he wanted more. His tongue entered her mouth then as it had done the night before causing her moan and grip onto his shoulders. He had once told her - in a state of drunkenness - that he would never feed her to the seals she was so fearful of, not when he could devour her himself. Torrhen reveled in the feel of her, how her body seemed to always be so warm, welcoming and tasteful.

Nysa loved the taste of him too. He had grown much since she last saw him. When they released one another, Nysa allowed her eyes to wander. His shoulders felt broader under her touch. His beard seemed to be fuller but she found that she did not mind it. Then he smiled at her - no, she thought. She did not mind it at all.

"I do not know who will be happier," he said as his breath returned to him, "when I return to Karhold with the news."

"I think it will be Alys."

He shook his head. "I think it will be my mother."

"Your mother?"

"Bring her back to Karhold, she said. Make her your wife, she said," Torrhen chuckled as he took Nysa's hands in his. "Her and my father spoke much of it apparently. They saw that I had come to care for you."

"Your father spoke of me," she raised an eyebrow and he laughed. "Are you jesting me, Torr," she pulled one hand away to push at his shoulder causing him to laugh louder.

"Jest the beautiful and sweet Nysa Snow," Torrhen smiled at her, "I would never," his voice low as he tugged her closer. Her body heated up despite the cool air around them. His face leaned down to hers but stayed a distance away, smiling at just having her with him.

"If Lady Stark taught me anything, it was to beware of the way a man's hands may wander," Nysa teased as Torrhen rest his forehead against hers.

"You should be worried about the way his mind wanders," he replied.

"Aye but that I learnt from your mother."

Torrhen laughed heartily before moving back to hold her more intimately than before. His arms wrapped about her waist, holding her tightly to him. "I wish you were coming back to Karhold with me now. But your brother and Lord Stark are insistent that you meet your Lord Uncle first. Apparently, he needs to approve of me."

"Then I should probably tell him that I do not like you," she teased as he smiled. "You are just an absolute bore and I do not know if I could stomach the thought of becoming your wife for as long as I shall live. Yes, I think I will tell my Uncle exactly that," she began before being swept into his embrace again. His lips descended on hers for a moment until one of the Karstark guards appeared.

"There is life in the yard, my Lord," he warned of the growing crowd.

"I should go in and see that my things are packed," she pulled away.

Torrhen refused to let go of her hand. "May I see you one last time?"

"I will ask my brother to saddle a horse so I can ride next to you on the road," she said.

"I like that better," he told her before brushing his lips against hers. His horse nudged his back then and Torrhen narrowed his eyes.

Nysa giggled. "No Bull," she rests her hand against the horse's forehead. He remembered the day he chose the name. Nysa had been the only one who had not laughed at him. "It would be improper if both Torrhen and I rode you."

"We have before," Torrhen reminded her as he came to stand by her side. "It is a good thing he called me, I forgot to give you this." He brought out his bow and the few arrows in its holder. "You still remember what I taught you?"

"Of course," she smiled.

"Take this with you, use it if you have to," he lifted his hand to her cheek. "It will be as though a part of me were with you."

"My sword," she asked then.

Torrhen smiled. "It is still in Karhold. In my haste, I hurried here to see you, praying that I arrive before you left."

"Keep it, use it if you have to," she replied. "That way a part of me will be with you too."

She hurried away once she heard the other guards coming into the stables. She better return to the keep - or better yet her room - before her brother came in search of her. Her heart felt lighter as though a huge weight had been lifted off of her. Nysa was full of contentment, as she strolled towards her room. An image of her wedding to Torrhen flashed in her mind - courtesy of the description he painted for her last night. Her hand moved to cover the smile on her lips and the laughter of excitement. She was in love.

Nysa had just made her way pass the kennels when she heard a loud groan. She should continue walking. Having often caught her fair share of guards - and on one occasion Theon himself - groaning because of a woman they were with, she definitely should have kept on. But this did not quite sound like it. This person could be in pain. She pushed back the gate and entered the stall. It was not a man and woman sharing their pleasure.

"My Lord, are you alright," Nysa knelt and placed a hand on Lord Tyrion's shoulder.

He began to laugh and turned to look up at her. "If it is not Lady Snowflake," he smiled. "I am quite well."

"You seem drunk."

"No, I was drunk last night. I wish I was drunk this morning," he continued to smile causing Nysa to smile as well. It was infectious. And the young, short Lord always seemed to be in a jolly mood - even if he was displaying less than the appropriate manners.

"I'm pleased to hear that you enjoy Northern wine and ale, my Lord. Not everyone can stomach it."

"It is an acquired taste to be sure. But I do love my wine," he chuckled, rolling over. "Perhaps a bit too much, I'm afraid."

"Do you need some assistance?"

Nysa went to bend down as he reached out for her arm. "I hear you are to accompany Lord Stark to King's Landing." She nodded in reply as she helped him to stand, surprised that he could despite his previous drunken condition. "Is it true that your mother is from the South?"

"That is what I've been told, my Lord."

"If that is what you have been told that must mean that you have not yet been introduced to your mother's family, correct?"

She shook her head. "I," she paused and wondered just how much she should inform Lord Tyrion.

"You," he pressed, appearing to be deeply interested in her.

"I do not know my mother's name or even which House she belongs to. But my Lord Uncle wishes to meet me. I suppose it has been many years since he has."

"And am I to assume you do not know his name either?"

"No, my Lord."

"I should hope that you find them. From what I hear, they come from a wealthy house indeed, with the name-day gifts you have received thus far."

"Indeed. My Uncle has been generous with me, my Lord."

The little Lord sighed then and turned towards Nysa with a serious expression. "There is no need to be calling me 'my Lord'." Nysa quickly opened her mouth to reject his request but he held up his hand. "With such riches as gifts, there is no other House that I can think of that is rich as ours. Therefore, I would not be surprised if you are a Lannister. And if so, then that makes us kin. And with that hope, I will ask that you call me Tyrion," he insisted.

"You are too kind," she opened the gate from where the hunting dogs rested and waited until he was out before locking it.

"Well if it isn't the Lady Bastard and my Uncle," a voice said from behind them.

Nysa gulped and was about to run but Lord Tyrion took her hand. They turned around to face Prince Joffrey. He eyed Nysa out for a moment. She was about to drop to her knees when Tyrion stopped her.

"That is no way to speak to a Lady, Joffrey."

"I will remember that when I see one," he smirked before turning to his Uncle. "My mother has been looking for you. We leave for King's Landing today."

"Before we go, you must go to Lord and Lady Stark and offer your sympathies."

"What good will my sympathies do?"

"None," Tyrion said simply, "but it is expected of you. Your absence has already been noted."

"The boy means nothing to me," Prince Joffrey shook his head.

Tyrion turned to look at Nysa. "I think you should apologize to the Lady. She and her brother serve House Stark loyally. Bran's accident means a lot to them."

She bit her lip and looked over to see a few royal guards behind the Prince. "There truly is no need, my Lord. The Prince can do as he pleases."

"See there," Prince Joffrey leaned forward, "the woman knows her place..."

Before she knew what happened, Nysa saw Lord Tyrion slap the Prince. She went to take a step forward in front of the Prince. Perhaps he will punish her instead of Lord Tyrion. Lord Tyrion continued to chastise the Prince - as though he were not one. It seemed extremely odd to her.

"One word and I'll hit you again," Tyrion warned.

"I'm telling mother," the Prince threatened.

Nysa cringed, dropped her bag and covered her mouth with her hand as Lord Tyrion slapped the Prince again. "Go! Tell her," Tyrion dared him. "But first you will apologize to Lady Nysa for your disrespect and then go to Lord and Lady Stark. You will fall on your knees in front of them and tell them how very sorry you are. That you are at their service," he took a step forward as the Prince stared at him, "and that all your prayers are with them. Do you understand?"

Prince Joffrey scowled at Nysa before turning back to his Uncle. "You can't make me!"

Nysa released a muffled scream this time as the Prince was slapped for a third time. "Do you understand," Tyrion said the words slowly.

The Prince looked appalled for a moment. He begrudgingly took a few steps over to Nysa. He didn't utter an apology. He simply picked up her bag and shoved it in her hands before walking away. Nysa stood there stunned as to what she just witnessed. A part of her would tell Robb and Jon about it, probably even Arya. It was something they would laugh about. But right now, she just wanted to hide.

"There was no need for that," Nysa told Lord Tyrion.

"Aye," one of the guards stepped forward. "The Prince will remember that, little Lord."

"I hope so," Tyrion smiled. "If he forgets," he pointed to the guard, "be a good dog and remind him. Now come with me, Lady Nysa," he held his arm up for her. "I believe it is time for breakfast." Nysa looked around at the guards cautiously before taking his arm and leading her into the hall. "I wish to speak more to you in King's Landing once you meet with your Lord Uncle. I do love a good mystery."

"My Lord..."

"Tyrion," he reminded her.

"Tyrion," she closed her eyes. "What happened out in the yard," she shook her head.

He cleared his throat before patting her hand gently. "You will find that in my life family, it is best to know what weaknesses they have and use the talents you possess to outsmart them. Everything in my family is a battle of wits. I fear I will not be able to help you avoid them on the journey because I am going to the Wall with your other bastard friend," he stated plainly.

"Are you taking up the black," she asked uncertainly.

Tyrion chuckled. "Never," he declared. "I find I enjoy life and all its sins too much. I do not think I will be up here again," he looked around, "though it is remarkable country. And the Wall is an impressive and noble place in Westeros."

"You honor us with your praise."

Tyrion tilted his head at her. "You know your words and manners, I'll give you that. But remember, you need your wits too," he pointed to his head, "when in King's Landing. Now I am off to eat. I best put some food and maybe more wine in my belly before we leave," he announced as he turned and walked away. "I think there will be no wine at the Wall," his voice carried down the hall.

She remembered Lord Tyrion's words later that morning when she spotted Ser Jamie.

It was after she had finished preparations for leaving. After leaving Lord Tyrion's side, Nysa had found Jory and asked that she ride out of Winterfell next to Torrhen until the Kingsroad turned. He allowed it and asked if she had finished packing. She did not have much and Lord Stark informed her that there would be markets and dressmakers they'd meet along the way. She could purchase something for not just herself but also Sansa and Arya.

Her trunk was packed and Wyl had been helping her take it out when she saw Jon out in the yard speaking to Ser Jamie. Nysa watched and saw that the situation was not a friendly one.

"You will find that in my life family, it is best to know what weaknesses they have and use the talents you possess to outsmart them. Everything in my family is a battle of wits."

"I'm sure it will be thrilling to serve in such an elite force," Ser Jamie smirked.

"It will be," Nysa announced stepping forward. Ser Jamie looked at her with narrowed eyes before she turned to Jon. "While some claim to protect the King, those on the Wall protect the entire realm. Do not listen to those who have slain the one person they were left to guard," she said to Jon as she attempted to ignore the member of the Kingsguard. "Is this Arya's..."

Ser Jamie grabbed Nysa's arm and turned her around to face him. "You know nothing of what you speak," he sneered.

Jon went to draw his sword but Nysa placed her free hand on his arm before looking at Ser Jamie. "I know enough," she whispered. She looked down towards her arm that he was holding and back up at him. "I see that the Lannisters still have a taste for hurting innocent women."

Ser Jamie let her go with such force, causing Nysa to stumble back into Jon. He stared at both for a moment before smiling and nodding his head as though he had still won the argument.

"You did not have to do that," Jon told her. "You are to go to King's Landing with him. What if..."

"I will be alright, Jon," Nysa replied and picked up the sword. "It looks rather small."

He sighed, knowing she would not discuss it further and turned towards her. "Well it is for Arya," Jon whispered looking at Mikken before settling his eyes on the sword. "Do you think you could watch over her? She can be rather..."

Nysa touched Jon's arm. "I will make sure that she is alright." She looked over her shoulders to see if there were any Lannisters around but there were not.

"She is not the only one I worry about," he tugged on her hand. "You must not draw attention to yourself, like how you just did," Jon warned Nysa.

She smiled. "Well perhaps then you should have a sword made for me as well," she teased.

"I already gave you your gift," he smiled back. She looked at him with a confused expression. Jon nodded behind her. Nysa whipped her head around to see Torrhen saddling his horse and giving the other Karstark men his instructions. "My brother cares for you, I do not doubt that," Jon came to stand beside her. "But if he will not make his heart's desire known to our father than I thought that I help give you back yours."

"You wrote to him," she looked at Jon. "You told him I was leaving for King's Landing."

Jon turned to face her. "I know of the letter he sent. Father read it to Lady Catelyn while they broke their fast."

"You knew about the letter?"

"I know that he rode here after your last visit to Karhold. I know that Lord Karstark even sent a letter to my father."

"He was telling the truth," Nysa took a deep breath and settled her hand against her heart.

"I hope that you are confused no longer about the two of them. I know it does not seem brotherly of me to encourage you away from Robb but Torrhen will take care of you. He came all this way to tell you," Jon reminded her, "and you were happiest when you were at Karhold with him. My brother will find another. After all he is the heir to Winterfell. I am going after something I want, you should go after something you want to."

After gifting Arya with her sword, Jon ambled down the hall towards Bran's room. He knocked softly and upon hearing Lady Catelyn's soft words to enter, he pushed the door open. He stood there for a while, gazing over Bran's body. Summer lifted her head and offered what appeared to be a lopsided grin upon seeing it was Jon. He swallowed, nodding towards the dire wolf before taking his next step inside the room.

"I hear that you are leaving also."

Jon's head turned towards Lady Catelyn's. He couldn't decipher if it was irritation or sadness that he heard in her tone. Either way, he approached the bed cautiously. "I came to say goodbye to Bran."

Lady Catelyn looked away.

Jon took that as permission to venture further. He came to stand right next to the bed and looked down at Bran. He did not look the same. He sighed and tried to forget the burning sensation of Lady Catelyn's eyes watching him to scare him away.

"I wish I could be here when you wake. I'm going North with Uncle Benjen." He heard a small noise from Lady Catelyn - a mixture of gasp and sob. Jon shook his head and continued. "I'm taking the Black." He knelt down then, wanting to be closer to his brother, begging for him to wake and get better. "I know we always talked about seeing the Wall together. But you can always come visit me at Castle Black when you're better. I'll know my way around by then. I'll be a sworn brother of the Night's Watch."

Jon paused and looked away, down towards Bran's legs and then back to his face. It wasn't fair.

He put on a smile - wondering if Bran could sense him, though he were sleeping. "We can go for a walk beyond the Wall, if you're not afraid. Then again," he looked up slowly, "I know you're never afraid. But I am. I'm," he paused when he noticed Lady Catelyn's eyes filled with tears.

She leaned down, her tears falling onto Bran's cheek as she pressed a kiss to his brow. Jon knew that he was talking to his brother - to Bran. But he wasn't certain if the words had offended Lady Catelyn somehow. He pushed himself up from the side of the bed and began walking towards the door. Jon had just reached the middle of the room when he heard her mumbled voice called out to him.

"Jon," Lady Catelyn said softly.

When he turned - he saw her face still buried on Bran. "My Lady?"

"If he can't go to the Wall, you will come back to see him, won't you?"

He felt shocked and a bit uncertain. Was she offering him an invitation to visit - as Uncle Benjen does? Or was she asking so that she could lock the gates to Winterfell? He shifted on his heels uncomfortably, trying not to think too much on her intentions. She looked up then - her eyes red and puffy with tears. Jon's heart broke a little before the guilt started to seep in. He obviously did say something that hurt her. Then he worried if she would say something harsh. She never did but perhaps now she would finally curse him all the way to the Wall.

"Will you visit," she asked again.

"I," Jon shook his head. "I do not know if I will be able to."

"Perhaps if Bran wakes, we'll let him decide if he wants you to come back or if he'll go to see you," she suggested, wiping her face with her sleeves.

Jon wasn't certain where it had come from but nodded. "If that's what Bran wants, my Lady."

Lady Catelyn turned to look down at Bran before pushing back. She shakily stood on her feet and faced Jon. "I," she began but started to sob again and brought her hand up to brush the wetness from her face.

"It is alright, my Lady."

"No, it's not. But I," she paused. "I'm sure that Winterfell will miss you," Lady Catelyn appeared hesitant and looked as though she were to step towards him. Her body had just leaned forward before her eyes shifted to the door.

Jon did the same and noticed that his father was standing there now.

"It's time to go," father announced.

Jon nodded. Turning back to Lady Catelyn, he bowed his head solemnly and then hurried out from the room. A part of him wasn't sure if she was about to extend a small ounce of kindness his way or not - possibly because it was the last time she'd ever see him. He walked slowly down the hall, towards the yard - wondering all the while if Lady Catelyn was going to embrace him.

"Look at that, Jon," Nysa cried happily as she touched the cloak he had on his shoulders. "It's so warm."

"Despite it being Summer and the weather being nice out," Lady Catelyn smiled at the two of them. "This is the North. I thought you could use something that wasn't so worn down."

Nysa gasped and held out a small piece of the cloak. "It has a dire wolf on it, look," she proclaimed as Robb came to stand by him too.

"Amazing," Robb smiled.

Jon couldn't help but feel proud about his new cloak. He twisted and turned, showing it off a bit more. Robb and Nysa laughed and danced around him. He paused and smiled, turning towards Lady Catelyn and saw her looking straight at him.

"You look handsome, Jon," she nodded.

He couldn't help himself. He launched into her arms, throwing his own around her. "Thank you, mother," he pressed his head into her warm embrace.

Jon shook his head and turned away from his horse, looking up at the keep where he knew Bran's window was. She wasn't his mother. She never was. She never would be. But he had always hoped, prayed even. He cursed then and pushed back towards the horse. It was time for him to go. It was time for him to leave. There was no need to wait around and desire a mother's comforting arms. He pushed that thought to the back when he saw Robb approaching him then. Robb would not know of Jon's craving - not even Nysa knew of it. He was going to the Wall. There was no time for childish nonsense at the Wall.

Jory huffed and snorted during the short ride from Winterfell towards the Kingsroad. He watched as his sister and Torrhen Karstark exchanged smiles and longing glances at one another. They were riding next to each other. Surely, Torrhen did not need to look at her all the time. A few of the guards around him chuckled at his behavior.

"Aye, if it was any of your daughters or sisters there, you'd not be laughing," Lord Stark rode past them, shaking his head.

"I bid you good luck with that," Jon said to Jory as he came to bring his horse by him. "The Gods know Nysa and her wild ways. I will miss them."

"She is going to miss you too. We all are," Jory replied.

"Do you think her Lord Uncle will keep her in the South?"

Jory sighed. "I hope that he does not. But one can never tell with such things. Your father thinks that he might."

"She will not love him for that," Jon chuckled.

"No," Jory did the same. "I think you will hear her shouting protests from the Wall."

"Jon?"

They both turned to see Benjen Stark nod his head for Jon to come along. They had reached that turn in the road where he would no longer continue with them. Jory touched his shoulder and nodded at him. As Jon rode ahead to see his Uncle Benjen tell his father farewell, he almost hesitated. His Uncle turned away from his father, leaving the opportunity for Jon now. Jon slowly rode towards his father then. There were so many things on his mind. He saw Nysa off in the distance, her horse next to Torrhen's - both whispering and smiling about something secretive.

"The Starks have manned the Wall for thousands of years. And you are a Stark," Lord Stark reminded him - pulling him away from thoughts of Nysa. "You may not have my name. But you have my blood," he finished.

"Is my mother alive," Jon asked turning to look at his Uncle Benjen who paused to look back at the pair. "Does she know where I am going," he looked at his father this time, "does she care?"

"Jon!"

Nysa came riding back from bidding Torrhen farewell. Lord Stark patted Jon's shoulder. "We will talk more about your mother, the next time I see you," he gave Jon a small smile, "I promise." Jon nodded. "In the meantime, you best say your goodbyes to your sister," Lord Stark nodded towards Nysa. "She," he paused, "she will need you one day."

"What do you mean?"

"Jon," Nysa called out excitedly as her horse finally reached them. "I hope you were not planning on leaving without one last goodbye, brother," she smiled.

Jon turned to Lord Stark who gave him a small nod. He looked at Nysa then. Could it be that his father was trying to tell him something? He brushed it off as he watched his father ride back towards the rest of his guards.

"I doubt this will be a last goodbye," Jon said.

"Aye," she nodded, "we will see each other again. I know it."

She leaned towards him and Jon pulled her into an embrace.

"I know it too. I will be looking forward to meeting Jon Karstark," he teased.

Nysa pulled away and quickly wiped her face as a tear fell. "I will talk to him of you every day, you will be his hero as you are mine," she said.

Jon nodded. "You best hurry before they leave you behind," he nodded towards the Stark guards.

"I will write to you, Jon."

"And I will write to you," he smiled. He raised his gloved hand to touch her cheek before dropping it and kicking his horse to go forward towards his Uncle Benjen.