Disclaimer: ASOIAF, GoT, whatevs, is not mine. I am borrowing the characters and their world.

Summary:

AU. First Part of a Trilogy, telling the story of Cadenzsa Forel, Syrio Forel's only child.

Cadenzsa's mother has decided it is time for her child to marry. Since no man in Braavos would dare touch her for fear of her father's sword - and Cadenzsa's, of course - the clever Syrio has relocated to Westeros in hopes of finding a man deeming worthy of his precious only daughter.

He has gone to King's Landing to find a Lord, or a Prince, or a Knight that will give Cadenzsa the life of adventure that she deserves. Cadenzsa, the clever girl, has decided to sail first to the North, and travel down through Westeros, in order to see the land for herself, and to learn of its people. She finds herself, though, soon stuck in the Hold of Winterfell, prey to the charms of the three young men that live there.

Jon

Jon and Robb were not fully brothers, but they developed a friendly rivalry and love between the two of them over the years, despite Robb's mother. Jon could be himself around Robb, especially when Greyjoy wasn't around. Jon didn't necessarily like Greyjoy, but he didn't dislike him. Jon only disliked the things Greyjoy did, if he thought about it.

Greyjoy japed and whored, walked around Winterfell like he owned the place, even when he was being his father's Ward. Greyjoy was a good Ward, for he always did his job and he did it well. Greyjoy was a man to be, in some ways, admired, for he and Jon had been under similar circumstances in the Stark household.

When Jon was very small, Greyjoy had come to them, clutching a bow twice his size and wearing strange clothes of boiled leather and a cloak that was for a grown man on his back. That night that he had come to them to be a Ward, Greyjoy had come into Jon's room.

"Why are you crying?" The Ironborn boy had asked Jon, who didn't speak. "I'll never see my home again, and I'm not crying! You have a home and father! You don't have a right to cry!"

Jon remembered that night very well, because it was the night he had made his first friend. For when Jon, who was trembling on the floor of his small room that was in the far back of the castle so nobody would have to see or hear from him, Greyjoy came and sat by him on the floor, and held out his arm to him.

"Alright, come here, then," he had said, and let Jon cry in his arms.

Over the years Greyjoy became a bit of a safe place for him. When he was hurt by the words or looks of Lady Stark - or perhaps another cruel boy in Winterfell from town - he would run to Greyjoy's room to cry in his arms. Though he was snide and smiling, always smiling, at day, at night he would be quiet and let Jon cry there. He would never say anything other than "Alright, come here, then," while it happened. Sometimes Jon feared that he would say something to someone, but he never did.

And so there was an unspoken alliance between the three young men of Winterfell. Was Lady Forel something that strained the relationship between them? It didn't seem so, and Jon hoped that it would not, for he loved both of those men so dearly that he wished for nothing to tear them apart, especially since they had been the only unconditional love he had ever really known in his life.

"Robb!" a tiny whisper came from behind the three of them as they suited up in their practice armor in the yard. Arya, hiding under the table. "Robb!" she said again. "Guess what Cadenzsa did!"

Jon couldn't help but laugh. Greyjoy tightened his boot and whispered to Jon "Looks like she found out, eh, Snow?"

Robb bent at his sister. "What did she do?" he asked, all but willing to amuse her.

"She sewed her stitching to her gown yesterday!" Arya laughed quietly through her hands. "She pulled it up to show Septa, and it was sewn on!"

Robb frowned. "That's not nice to laugh at!"

"But she was laughing!" whined Arya. "Can you believe that her mother never made her do needlework once?"

Jon stepped in. "In Braavos they do different things," he said. "Now, you should let us practice. Go before your mother finds you missing."

Robb and Jon started towards the practice area, but Arya grabbed Robb's foot from under the table, causing him to stumble. "Arya!" he admonished. "Are you trying to break my neck?"

"Are you going to marry Cadenzsa, Robb?" she asked. Jon looked up to Robb, whose face went a little pale. Robb then seemed to regain himself and shake his head. "But why not?" pressed Arya. "If you marry her she can stay here forever!"

Robb bent and gave a forced smile. "I think that kind of thing is up to her, not me."

"What, she doesn't like you?" Jon had to laugh a little. "Because Mother didn't like Father very much when they first met. But they like each other a lot, now! Maybe Cadenzsa can learn to like you, too?" Jon rolled his eyes with a hidden laugh, and when he turned to look at Greyjoy, he wasn't laughing. In fact, the Ironborn had a bit of a solemn look on his face.

"My Lords," came the Braavosi girl's voice from across the yard. Arya recoiled under the table as Robb stood. Lady Cadenzsa Forel stepped out into the yard wearing black trousers that were as tight and supple-looking as her skin was, with boots of fine black leather that went soft and up to her knees. And her white shirt with the red trim was of the Braavosi style, with great blooming sleeves and tight cuffs, and great blooms around the top with a tight waist, with her long hair in a gorgeous, loose braid that fell down to the tops of her thighs. Under her arm, she had a wooden training sword. Jon, Robb, and Theon all were gulping at the sight - none of them had ever cross a woman's legs like that before. "A warm good morning to you all," she said, putting on a pair of black gloves. "May I join you?"

Robb cleared his throat. "Join us, m'lady?"

"Yes, in training," she said. "Look." And she stretched out her leg, long, in front and swung it around gracefully to the side, and then bent her knee and kicked it high above her head into a sidesplit with her foot pointed. With as tight as those trousers were, Jon was shocked they didn't rip. Jon could practically hear all the things that Greyjoy was saying. "See? Just so! But I mustn't let myself go soft." Jon heard Arya gasp in glee under the table.

"I don't see why not," said Greyjoy coming forward with a grin. "I'll gladly take you on."

"Theon!" said Robb.

"Oh, come on," said Greyjoy, turning around with his hands out. "Aren't you at all curious to see River Dancing for yourself?"

"Water Dancing," corrected Lady Forel with a grin. Robb said nothing.

"Well, I am. And I know you are, Snow," said his father's Ward. "C'mon, Lady Forel, I'll have a go at you."

"Oh, good," she said.

"Let's get some practice armor on you," he said. Jon quickly went over to find the spare practice armor, which was made of wooden dowels and boiled leather.

"What for?"

"So you'll be safe. Wouldn't want you to get hurt," said Greyjoy.

"My father says every hurt is a lesson, and every lesson makes you better." Arya squealed under the table. Robb stepped forward and Jon stepped back to block Arya both from viewing and from being viewed.

"I must insist on the practice armor, m'lady. We'll all be wearing it. It wouldn't be right."

She gave Robb a long look, and Jon braced himself for her temper, but she simply nodded with a sigh and said "If my lord commands." They were all shocked, of course, but Jon took her practice sword and Greyjoy put the armor over her head and tied it tight around her slim waist. Jon couldn't help but go a little red in the face at the sight of her taut thighs. He was also a little surprised at how heavy her practice sword was. It was much heavier than the ones that they used.

"It's filled with lead," said Lady Forel, motioning to the sword in Jon's hand. She smiled. "It's heavy to make me strong," she said.

"But you only fight with one hand?" Jon asked.

"That's right," said she.

"I would think that it wouldn't matter since your sword looks so skinny and light." She laughed.

"You'd be surprised how much it helps. If you can be quick as a snake with something so heavy, just imagine how quick you can be with something light as a feather."

"There, how's that feel?" Theon asked when he was done adjusting the Lady's practice armor.

"Strange," she said. "We Bravos hardly ever wear armor. At least, not like yours."

"Well, in Westeros, everybody wears it. So you'd better start, too," he said to her.

"In Westeros, a Lady shouldn't need to wear armor," said Jon, a little quietly to his father's Ward.

"A Water Dancer shouldn't need to wear armor, either," said Lady Forel with a grin. She tried walking around a bit with it on, then moving some with it on, too. "The Dothraki don't wear armor like yours, either. They call them shor tawakol, 'metal dresses.'" She pivoted on ease with one foot and struck at an imaginary foe with such quickness that her sword made a whistling sound as it flew through the air. "They are the most-feared warriors in Essos."

"Even more-feared than a Water Dancer?" asked Theon with a snarky grin as he sauntered towards her with a practice sword in his hand. Jon and Robb looked at each other in question, as if he was really going to practice with her.

"A Water Dancer, shekh ma shieraki anni, is respected and revered, not feared. It is known." She assumed a strange sideways pose towards Greyjoy, with her legs open wide and crouched , her head high and arms out like a crow's wings with her left hand holding her sword so delicately that it looked like she was dueling with a knitting needle. Jon had his sword in hand and looked to Robb to see if he still wanted to practice, but he was too confused and too closely watching what she was doing. Jon shrugged to himself, satisfied enough to watch what a Water Dance truly meant. Jon was just glad that Ser Rodkrik was attending to other business that morning and was satisfied enough to let them practice on their own.

Theon laughed a little at her funny stance, but readied his sword. "I'll go easy on you," he said.

Lady Forel pivoted her wrist with her sword in a wheel. "Please do," she cooed.

Greyjoy gripped his practice sword and assumed the stance. He quickly raised his sword to strike, but before they could all blink, Lady Forel hit three strikes as fast as lightning - one at his ribs, then one the backs of his thighs, and then one at his wrist which knocked the sword out of his hand. Greyjoy fell to one knee as she twirled her sword at his chin.

"Dead," she said with a grin. Jon could hear Arya squealing quietly with glee under the table. All was silent, except for Robb's gasping, hacking laughter. He was laughing so hard, in fact, that when Jon looked, he saw his brother completely doubled-over, clutching his sides and eyes clenched shut. Ever prideful, Greyjoy quickly got up and picked up his sword with an angry glare.

This time, he swung from the bottom, but Lady Forel turned around and walked away, parrying each blow quite easily with her back turned. Then with a quick whirl around she struck hard against his sword. And then when he raised his sword and swung down, she dove out of the way and tumbled to his side, where she quickly swung up with her own sword and struck him against the side of his knee.

"Dead, again!"

Theon then swung hard and quick against her, all of which were blocked with ease, and when she advanced in the strange side-ways stance, she twirled her sword like a ribbon doing a dance which so confused Greyjoy that he let his sword be swung out of his hand and went soaring across the yard. With the point of her sword she raised his chin and traced his pale throat.

"Very dead."

"No," said Greyjoy, holding up his hands as if to yield.

"Of course you are, dead man! Now give up."

"No," said Greyjoy, frowning. Lady Forel smacked him on the side of the knees with her sword, bringing it back up.

"Give up."

"No!" insisted Greyjoy, who got another quick smack with her sword on his other leg.

"Give up. You are dead. I have taken many of your limbs and your sword! And your head."

"Well, we are in Westeros. And that's why you have armor to protect you against this." Out of either anger or stupidity, he rushed Lady Forel and pushed her sword across his chest. She grabbed his armor and shirt and fell on her back, then tumbled like a Fool where Greyjoy found himself on the flat of his back and she on top with her sword against his throat.

"Very dead." Jon thought that Robb might pass out from laughing so hard, and he couldn't help but applaud her. Arya, who could no longer contain herself, jumped up from under the table and ran to Jon's side.

"Cadenzsa, you're so great!" she shouted. Without missing a beat, Septa Mordane came into the yard.

"Young Lady!" she all but shouted. "I have been looking for you all morning! How dare you make me come searching like that?"

"But Lady Forel is practicing with swords!" Arya whined. Septa came and took her by the ear.

"You are to come back to your lessons at once!" she said, dragging Arya away. Robb and Jon laughed together in both amusement and a bit of pity. Lady Forel let Theon up, who quickly stood with an angry snort.

"Don't be sore!" said Lady Forel to Greyjoy. "First lesson is to never underestimate your opponent!" Robb was still laughing like a maniac.

"Oh you think it's funny, do you?" demanded Greyjoy to Robb as he huffed away from Lady Forel. "You have a go at her, then!"

"And, what, end up looking like you, dirt-face?" cackled Robb. Jon couldn't help but laugh at that one. He then decided, out of either bravery or stupidity - or perhaps it was in that moment he felt that Lady Forel was truly their friend - he came to her and said:

"I'll try, if I may, my Lady."

Lady Forel grinned and bowed. "Please do!" She assumed the Water Dancing stance, holding her sword in her left hand. Jon took in a breath and eyed her up and down before deciding how to proceed. She obviously took her power from her speed, so he would have to either be faster or smarter. But he didn't know how smart she was; but he knew how strong he was and how many blows he could take before yielding.

Jon was the first to strike with a slash to the side, which she quickly blocked and struck at him several times. He blocked two of her four blows, which earned him a few 'ooh's from Robb and Greyjoy who were watching from the stables. He then decided to slow himself and let her strike - which she did - and he blocked each one of them. She danced around him and struck hard and quick, which he blocked and parried, until she advanced in a strange sideways way which took him off-guard, and knocked him on his wrist with her sword to cause him to drop it.

"Dead," she said. "But you are amazing."

Jon smiled. "Nothing compared to you, my Lady." She smiled.

"Here, stand side-face." Jon frowned a little in confusion, but he did as he was bid to do. She looked him up and down. "You are slender man. That is good! Now stay side-face like that, and turn your head to me. Now put the sword only in your strong hand." Jon favored his right, so he put his sword in the right hand. "Now, a more delicate grip," she said as she came and took his fingers on the hilt of the sword. "Like you are holding the hand of your lover." Jon's face went a little red. Lady Forel opened her mouth to say something else, but she stopped whens he saw something over Jon's shoulder. He looked behind him and saw her two handmaidens coming towards her, holding something behind their backs.

Lady Forel's handmaidens were lovely things. The fair-haired one was quite lovely in that pink gown she was wearing, and had on a black shawl over her arms so she didn't freeze. Darry, was it? No, the fair-haired one was from Lys, so that was Darry... And the pretty dark one was Qahari. Jon couldn't remember for sure, though, but he didn't want to ask again for he feared being impolite. The two of them came out in the yard, holding back smiles and giggles. The dark-haired one then pulled out a tiny orange tart with a pretty brown crust,stuck in the middle with a tiny candle in it, and the fair-haired one lit the candle with a flint. They then began to sing a silly little song in - what Jon assumed - was Braavosi, at which Lady Forel laughed generously. Robb and Theon both came a little closer to see what was going on.

"A t'ousand a'blessingks on you, mi'Lady," said Qahari with a very thick Braavosi accent.

"Oh, thank you, my loves," she said, and then blew out the candle. Lady Forel wrapped her arms around her. The fair-haired one clapped her hands gleefully.

"Happy Name-day, my Lady," she said with her sweet Lyseni voice, and she wrapped her arms around Lady Forel in an embrace.

Jon's voice got caught in his throat. "Today is your Name-day?" Lady Forel shrugged. Robb and Theon looked at each other in question.

"Why didn't you say anything, Lady Forel?" asked Robb.

"I didn't want to make a big fuss," she said with a shy smile. "It's really not a big deal."

"That won't do," said Robb, crossing his arms. "We'll throw a feast!"

"No, please - " said Lady Forel, waving her hands. "That's really not necessary."

"How old are you today, m'lady?" asked Greyjoy with a grin.

She sighed with a grin. "I am nineteen today."

"Nineteen, same as me," said Greyjoy.

"Oh, that's nice," she said.

"My Lady is youngest Dancing Master in Braavos, and today we bake her favorite orange tart." said Darry. "Second-youngest Dancing Master is twenty-two." The fair-haired one batted her eyes at Jon. "You are first Knight Dancer to last so long against her, my Lord." Jon laughed and went a little red.

"Jon is very skilled," said Lady Forel. "Were you to come to Braavos, I think you would make a good Dancing Master someday."

"Thank you, m'lady," said Jon with a grin. "Coming from you that's a great compliment." Oddly, Theon was being too polite to say a joke, but with the way he grinned and rolled his eyes, Jon could hear it in his head anyway.

Lady Forel took the little tart in her hands. "Come, let's sit and share it," she said. They used her dagger to cut it into six slices, and they were small, but very sweet and light and with a crust so crisp it could have given the air of a winter morning a run for its money.

"Myrish oranges?" Greyjoy asked.

"My Lady's favorite," said Darry.

"It's delicious," said Robb, licking his fingers.

Maester Luwin came up just then, causing the foreign handmaidens to gasp a little in shock, then bow deeply. "What's all this? You're supposed to be training. If Ser Rodrik finds out-"

"We were," said Robb, stepping forward. "Lady Forel was showing us how to Water Dance. But it's her Name-Day today, you see-"

"Name-day?" asked the Maester, looking at Lady Forel with a grin. "Gods be good, child, why didn't you say anything? We shall have to throw you a party tonight-"

"Oh, please, don't trouble yourselves-you've already done so much for me, all of you. I couldn't possibly begin to repay you."

"Think nothing of it, my dear. What with opening the Northern eyes up to a whole new culture, it seems that we are in your debt. No, no, say nothing more. We'll do something for you. I won't take no for an answer. And I'm sure that Lord Stark will say the same. Which reminds me-Jon, Theon, Lord Stark wishes to see you both."

Greyjoy was a little confused-looking, but he quickly removed his practice armor, nodded and bowed to Lady Forel. "Excuse us," he said. Jon nodded and bowed a little.

"Yes, excuse us," he said. When he looked up, Darry was twirling a golden curl around her finger with a shy smile. Jon clumsily threw off his practice armor and ran after Greyjoy and the Maester.

"May I ask what all this is about?" said Theon as they walked inside, the castle's warmth falling on their skin.

"You just did, Theon," said the Maester, a little annoyed already. Jon inwardly smiled; it wasn't a very nice thing, but Jon had to admit that he liked it when other people got treated the same way he was sometimes...then he didn't feel so alone.

Lord Stark was sitting in the Godswood, sharpening his sword. He stood when the three of them came.

"Thank you, Maester."

"Will that be all, my Lord?"

"Yes, of course, go along back to Bran."

The Maester bowed and left the Godswood. Greyjoy stood straight and kept his hands behind his back, awaiting orders. He played the part of the Ward well, even though Jon knew that it didn't come naturally to him. Jon knew the Ironborn in him was a Conquerer and not a follower. Jon was the follower; for Greyjoy himself Jon did have a certain affection, but it was best to not let anybody know that.

"Jon, Theon, I need to ask something of you both," said Lord Stark. "I know that you both have noticed Lady Forel and Robb growing very close. And as unfortunate as this is to say, we all know that it cannot be. Robb is obligated to wed a Northern Lady, and Lady Forel is..." He trailed off. "Well, her father has made it clear that he has other plans for her."

"Lord Stark," said Jon, "If Robb likes her, then we should want him to be happy."

"Aye, Jon, that's true. And Lady Forel is very nice. But she's not going to be happy here in the North. We live here because nobody else can, and I don't think it would be very nice of us to keep her here against her will, do you?" Jon glanced to Theon, who shifted uncomfortably.

"Her father will arrive here in ten days," continued Lord Stark. "Jon, I want you to keep Robb occupied until then. And Theon, I want you to keep Lady Forel company."

"Lord Stark," said Jon, immediately nervous at the thought of leaving Lady Forel in the clutches of Greyjoy, the biggest philanderer he knew, "can't there be another way? If they do fall in love, then they fall in love. There will be nothing that can be done about it."

Lord Stark gave his bastard son a long look. He sighed through his nose and then patted him on the shoulder. "You love your brother," he said. "And you want him to be happy. But I promise you that we'll find someone perfect for him when the time is right. This is the way it must be, to soften the blow for him when she leaves." He looked to Greyjoy. "I'll survive without you for ten days. Keep her company."

"It's her nineteenth Name-day today, m'lord," said Greyjoy. "Might I take her into town for a drink? In the interest of keeping her away from Winterfell?"

"Today is her Name-day?" asked Lord Stark.

"She didn't say anything because she said she didn't want to make a big fuss about it," continued Greyjoy.

Lord Stark thought for a moment, then nodded. "Take her into town with you today, Greyjoy, and buy her something nice. When you come back we'll have a feast and dancing. Won't be anything big, though. We'll start the separation tomorrow."

"Lord Stark," Jon said, stepping forward. "What is so bad about Lady Forel and Robb being together? I know that they like each other. I see it."

Lord Stark gave a stern look. "The Starks are the Wardens of the North. Our brides should be of the North, too, for many families seek to join their Houses with ours. If we wed Robb to a foreigner, there are many families who might turn our backs on us for it. I know it's not a pretty truth, Jon, but we must forge many alliances with the families of the North, and in Westeros."

"But she's beautiful!" insisted Jon. "And talented! And I know that Robb likes her!"

"Listen to your father, Snow," commanded Greyjoy. "It's his decision."

"But it's not fair, Lord Stark."

"Jon," said Lord Stark, now gently. "Lady Forel will get by just fine without Robb. She has many prospects for marriage here in Westeros, and it wouldn't be right to hog her to ourselves, now would it?" Jon conceded, shaking his head. "I know you mean well. But this is for the best. If it makes you feel better, when her father gets here, we'll talk about it again, eh?" Jon looked down, nodding. Greyjoy nodded as well.

"I'll be off, then, m'lord," said his father's Ward. "C'mon, Snow."

Jon followed behind Theon, his footsteps heavy with anger.

"But it's really not fair!" he whispered angrily to Theon. "It's because she's not Westerosi, isn't it?"

Theon sighed. "I'll bet you anything that Lady Stark has something to do with it."

"Don't you dare-"

"I know, I know, don't speak ill of Lady Stark..." Greyjoy sighed. "But I know that's it. Lady Stark doesn't see her fit for Robb. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't leave it alone, Snow. Robb and Cadenzsa are a bad idea together. They're too different. They come from different worlds. Do you really see her as Lady Stark? Lady of the North? Can you imagine her in plain grey gowns with her hair braided up like Sansa's? Well, can you?" Jon paused. "Because I can't. Now leave it alone."

Jon and Robb stayed and practiced archery with Bran as Greyjoy rode off with Lady Forel. When Bran chased Arya for hitting an arrow on the target behind his, Robb and Jon had some time alone to talk.

"Lady Forel's father will be here soon," Robb said. He gave a wistful grin. "I'm going to miss her."

Jon gulped, not knowing what to say. He wanted to do as his father had asked, but he loved Robb very much, and wanted him to be happy. "Perhaps she'll keep in touch with ravens, now that she knows how to use them?" Jon suggested.

Robb nodded. "Maybe, but I don't think so," he said. "I hate to admit it...but Greyjoy's right. This is a fun little holiday for her, but when winter comes, she'll not like it at all."

"Maybe she's stronger than you think," said Jon.

Robb punched his brother playfully in the arm. "You want her to stay that bad, do you? Why don't you ask her to, then?"

"I'm not doing that!" gasped Jon, going bright red. Robb laughed. "It's just that..." Jon sighed. "She's different."

"I know she's different. But this is the North. We're a land steeped in tradition. I think she might be a little too...untraditional." Robb sighed; Jon knew that those were their fathers words, or his mother's words, not Robb's. Jon then saw something in Robb's eyes that he had very rarely seen. It was the look if internal questioning, the wondering of something very deep and profound. He then turned to his brother and asked something he did not expect. "What do you think of Theon? Do you think that he'll..."

Jon went a little red thinking about it, but he knew what his brother was asking. "Lady Forel won't fall to his charms so easy. Besides, she's a Highborn. She wouldn't with a Ward."

"But...Theon's a Highborn, too. Just like us. Have you ever thought of that? Even though his father's been defeated by our father and the King, he's still a Highborn. He's still our equal." Robb's eyes drifted off towards the west. "Under different circumstances..."

"What's this about?"

Robb's face went a little red and flushed. "Nothing. Never mind. Come on, let's get ready for the feast. Sundown is nearly here. Theon and Lady Forel should be back soon. And you should escort Darry to the feast tonight."

"What?" Jon asked in shock.

"You should! Lady Forel said that she's fond of you. Even if it's just to be polite, you should do it."

When Jon was ready and had washed up a little, he came out of his room and he found Darry walking by. She was wearing a pale blue gown, which was very pretty with her big brown eyes. It was of the Essos style with straps instead of sleeves, and armbands of gold. Around her shoulders she wore a shawl of fur.

"My Lord," she bowed low.

"It's just Jon," he said shyly.

"Jon," she said, smiling. "May we walk to my Lady's feast together?"

He didn't want to refuse her, and she wasn't a highborn, so Jon figured it would be alright. She circled her arm around his.

"Jon is strong," she said with a big grin. "Your arm is so hard." Jon smiled. He liked her sloped nose; it was refined and elegant. "You fared well against my Lady today."

"Thank you," he said. Since she was their guest there in Winterfell, Jon decided to make small talk. "Your teeth are very straight." Very small talk.

"Thank you," said Darry. "They're real, you know." Jon didn't know that you could have fake teeth, but then again there were admittedly many things that Jon did not know. "Do you think my Lady will be surprised?"

Jon shrugged. "I hope it's pleasantly so."

"So do I. She loves surprises. What do you think Lord Greyjoy and she did in town? You know him better than I. Is he a good man?"

It was a bit of a loaded question, admittedly. Was Theon Greyjoy a good man? He was perverse, sometimes cruel, arrogant...but he was a capable warrior and there was no man better with a bow and arrow than he. And he was loyal to Robb and had been - in the dark, at least - a good friend to Jon.

"Why do you ask?" was a safer thing for Jon to say.

"My Lady holds a great affection for him, of course."

Jon's stomach went tight. But his conversation with Robb earlier had made him wonder about Robb's affections toward Lady Forel. Maybe he did not like her at all, and was only assuming that he did? Maybe feelings and love were far more complicated than Jon wanted to ever admit. He decided that since Robb and he were going to be spending a good amount of time together that week, he would ask.

The Great Hall was decked out for a grand feast, and - to his shock - Jon was seated next to Robb that evening. Lady Forel was seated with Greyjoy, and her handmaidens were seated with Arya and Sansa and Bran, along with the other servants on the lesser tables. Sansa swooned at Lady Forel's black-blue gown that looked the color of the night sky, and the gold pins that were in her hair.

When Jon went to glance at Lady Stark, her face was different on this evening. She did not glare at him with hate, but rather that look she gave when she was obligated to do something she did not want to do, but knew that it was for the best. Greyjoy had been right, it seemed, in that it was Lady Stark's idea to keep them apart. Rebellious as ever, though, Robb did not care.

After the feasting, the tables were moved to create a dance floor. Lord and Lady Stark lead the dance. Robb stood and asked Lady Forel for the first dance of the evening as the guest of honor. Lady Forel shrugged and said that she didn't know how, but she would try. Jon wasn't surprised when he saw how quickly she took to it. She was a natural, of course, and her Handmaidens were equally graceful, for Qahari took to dancing with Bran - who had seemed to fallen in love with her - and Greyjoy took to dancing with Darry. When the first dance was over, Greyjoy slyly cut in and switched partners with Robb. When the two of them began dancing together, Jon saw what Darry meant by 'a certain affection.'

Jon began to wonder why Lady Forel would be so wrong. She was a legitimate Highborn from - what seemed like - a good family. So what if she was Braavosi? It was better than being a bastard...and yet she was still discriminated against.

Darry took his hand suddenly. "Dance?" she asked.

Jon smiled, his heart skipping a beat. "Alright," he said.

Darry was surprisingly skilled at the Westerosi dances, and Jon soon found himself laughing and forgetting himself and who he was, and eventually where he was. Darry, to his surprise, even knew the song that they were playing, for she was humming along with it.

"You're good at this," he said to her.

"My father was an instructor of music and dance that worked for the Forels," she said.

"So you and Lady Forel have known each other for awhile?"

"Oh, since we were children," she said. "I lived with my father in the Isle of Flowers - that's the name of the Forel's isle - teaching my Lady's cousins. When she was fourteen I became her Handmaiden and was sent to live in the Sealord's Palace. I was twelve."

"That's a nice story," he said.

"So what about you? I take it all lords learn the dance?"

Jon's throat became a little tight. "Yes," he said, not wanting to press it any further.

"And all Lords learn the sword?"

"Yes," he said.

Darry slowed her dancing with a frown. "I have offended?"

Jon then shook his head feverishly. "No, no, of course not!" he insisted. "It's just..." He then felt Lady Stark's eyes upon him. "Excuse me." He walked out of the hall, that familiar feeling of anxiety gripping at his heart.

"My Lord Jon," called Darry as she rushed out behind him. "I apologize if I have done anything to-"

"No, please," he said, suddenly taking both of her hands. "It's not you, really." He suddenly realized what he was doing and let go of her hands and turned away.

As he took a few steps down the hall and towards the Library, she said "Is it because you're a Bastard?" Jon stopped, his heart tight with shock. He heard her light feet coming up behind him. "Because I don't care." She looked up at him and laced her fingers with his. "I think Lord Jon is brave, and his heart is pure." When Jon turned his head, her pretty brown eyes were welling up. Then it happened.

She took his face in both of her hands and pressed her lips against his with such a shocking amount of quickness to it that Jon didn't have time to react. He stood there, eyes wide open, his fingers tensed and curled in shock. He had never felt a kiss before, nor even really a touch of another woman. His face felt red hot when he felt her tongue flicking on his top lip.

His lips parted and felt her tongue massaging his; shivers went up and down his spine, and out of instinct he gently put his hands on her waist and closed his eyes to kiss her back. For that moment, which seemed to last an hour, he forgot everything about his past and the Wall and the Night's Watch and the North. He forgot his last name was Snow, and that he was in Winterfell. He didn't know where he was, but he didn't really care. In fact, he didn't even realize where he was until he felt himself growing against her soft body, which did not take long. A shiver went down his spine as he parted with an unconscious whimper. He stood there looking at her, wide-eyed as a newborn doe.

"I wanted to you to be kissed by someone who does not nor will never care you are a bastard," she said. "And I want you to know that nobody in Lys would know what the last name 'Snow' meant at all."

Jon didn't know what to say; his voice had been taken away from him with her lips and tongue. She was so pretty, and the most-shocking thing about her was that he actually believed her when she said that she didn't care he was a bastard. But what could he do about it? Nothing. Did he care at the moment? No.

Darry gulped unconsciously, twiddling her fingers. "Well," she said. "I'm going back in before my Lady sees me missing."Jon nodded wordlessly. "I'll see you." And she rushed back into the hall. Jon fell back against the cold wall of Winterfell, and as it dawned upon him what had just happened, he began to laugh with glee, his face burning red with happiness.

"Jon?"

He quickly stopped and stood up straight when he heard Lady Forel's voice call his name. She was standing in the doorway to the hall, with a slow grin growing on her face. There was a moment between them; it was a moment where he was trying to keep a straight face, for he had truthfully no idea as to how she would react to one of her handmaidens cavorting with the Bastard. But she slowly grinned and gave a tiny laugh. She then shook her head and held out her hand.

"Come on," she said, "I would have the next dance with you."

Jon wished that Robb would marry Cadenzsa in that moment, for were she his good-sister, he would be far less lonely. And what a good sister she was to him.

Ahhh, what an emotional chapter!

I love Jon because his psychology is so fascinating to me. I know that Lady Stark is a fantastically complex and wonderful character, but the way she treats Jon is kind of inexcusable. I know she WANTS to forget that Ned cheated on her so many years ago, but Jon is a living, breathing reminder of it, walking around. So I think that Jon's psychology would really reflect that.

Anyway, I figured that Jon needed a little love, since there's SO MUCH OF IT going around! Was this chapter a little kitch? Maybe. Do I care? Not really. Because I'm going to weave it in to some other fun stuff! xD

And thanks SOOOO MUCH for all of your love and support. It really means a lot to me that you guys are reading. The Grey Lady will be updated soon, too, I promise!

Hugz n' kisses!