Chapter 2:

A Royal Arrival

Jon POV

Jon walked into the great hall with all the grace and confidence of the Baintriath of House Stark. Baintighearna Stark had called for him while he was looking over the provisions in Winterfell's stores.

His and Baintighearna Catelyn's relationship had improved greatly since his thirteenth name day. She had come to accept his presence, and even taught Jon personally in the duties as the future Baintighearna of Winterfell.

"In any case, candles," Jon could hear her say to Maester Luwin as the two discussed the preparations for the king's arrival.

"You wanted to see me, mo baintighearna," Jon says as he walks towards them.

"Yes," Baintighearna Stark says as she turns to him. "I have to ask of you, Jon." Baintighearna Catelyn pauses and Jon waits for her to continue. "While the king is here, I would ask that you and the other fems not train in the courtyard."

"Mo baintighearna?" Jon says confused as to why such a thing is being asked of him.

"As you know, the ladies of the South do not train in battle as the fems in the North do," she tells him, and Jon nods in acknowledgement. "It is quite as shock to see such things coming from the South, and I do not wish to startle the queen. I hope you understand."

"Of course, mo baintighearna. I shall inform the other fems now," Jon says before he dips his head in respect and takes his leave, heading towards the keep and the lady's solar where he knows Sansa and Arya are in their lessons with Septa Mordane.

•)()()()(•)()()()(•

Jon stands anxiously between Robb and Sansa in the receiving line. He knew the southerners were less likely to accept him as Baintriath of House Stark than the northmen had been. The South didn't believe in True Mates, they thought such things were a myth. And it wouldn't help that he and Robb weren't mated yet.

"Where's Arya?" Baintighearna Catelyn asks glancing around the yard. Jon looks to Sansa's other side and sure enough the space between Sansa and Bran was empty. "Sansa, where's your sister?" the younger fem shrugs her shoulders. "Jon?" Baintighearna Stark turns to him, and he shacks his head. He hasn't seen her since he told her to get ready for the king. At that moment Arya comes running across the courtyard.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey," Athair says as he grabs hold of Arya's arm so that she can't move past him. "What are you doing with that on?" he asks her as he reaches up to take off the helm Arya has on her head.

Arya scurries past them to her place beside Bran, "Move!" she says as she shoves him out of her way.

Jon makes to scold her, but he doesn't get the chance as Baratheon and Lannister banners ride into the courtyard. He can pick out a couple people amongst the riders: Flath Joffrey with his golden hair and emerald eyes; the Hound in his armour and dog-shaped helm. The queen's wheelhouse—decked out in Lannister red—comes next, followed by Rìgh Robert himself.

All of Winterfell kneels before the king, and Jon can't help but be disappointed. This isn't the great warrior from his father's stories; this man is fat and red-faced and needed help off his horse.

They all rise to their feet when the king stops in front of Tighearna Stark.

"Your Grace," Tighearna Eddard says bowing his head to the man before him.

"You've gotten fat." Rìgh Robert says after a moment. Athair gives him an amused look before they both start laughing.

"Cat!" the king shouts as he pulls her into an embrace.

"Your Grace," Baintighearna Stark says seeming uncomfortable.

Rìgh Robert muses Rickon's hair before turning back to Tighearna Stark. "Nine years. Why haven't I seen you? Where the hells have you been?" he bellows.

"Guarding the North for you, Your Grace," Tighearna Stark tells him. "Winterfell is yours."

Bainrìgh Cersei descends from the wheelhouse, followed by Bainflath Myrcella and Flath Tommen. And Jon notes that none of the royal children have the dark hair and blue eyes of House Baratheon, they are all Lannister.

"Where's the Imp?" he hears Arya ask.

"Will you shut up?" Sansa tells her.

Jon gives them both a scolding look before turning back to the king.

"You must be Robert," he says as he shakes Robb's hand.

"Just Robb, Your Grace," Robb tells him dipping his head in respect. The king laughs and claps him roughly on the shoulder.

"Who have we here?" Rìgh Robert is looking at him now.

"Jon Snow, Your Grace," he says dipping into a curtsy.

At the king's confused look, Tighearna Stark is quick to interfere, "He is Robb's bonded, Your Grace."

Rìgh Robert seems to accept the explanation, and moves down the line. Though Jon can see the displeasure on the queen's face where she stood by the wheelhouse.

"My, you're a pretty one," the king says to Sansa. The poor girl blushes as bright as her hair as she dips into a graceful curtsy. He turns to Arya then, "Your name is?"

"Arya," she tells him in true Arya fashion: she doesn't curtsy, she doesn't bow her head, instead, she looks him in the eye, with her chin held high in defiance.

Rìgh Robert simply smiles at her display and moves on to Bran. "Show us your muscles," Bran beams and flexes his arm. "You'll be a soldier."

Bainrìgh Cersei approaches the line then, offering her hand for Tighearna Eddard to kiss.

"My queen," Tighearna Stark says dipping into a deep bow before the queen turns to Baintighearna Stark.

"My queen," Baintighearna Catelyn curtsies.

"Take me to your crypt," the king says suddenly, "I want to pay my respects."

"We've been riding for a month, my love," the queen tells him. "Surely the dead can wait."

"Ned." Rìgh Robert demands.

Tighearna Stark dips his head to Bainrìgh Cersei before leading the king towards Winterfell's crypts and their Piutharathar Lyanna's tomb.

Suddenly, the queen is in front of him, studying him with such open displeasure, a chill runs down his spine.

"My queen," he says as he dips into the most graceful curtsy he can muster.

She turns to Baintighearna Stark then, "You would allow your son to mate your husband's bastard?" she asks with so much disgust, Jon can almost taste it.

"They are True Mates, Your Grace," Baintighearna Catelyn tells her politely, "We in the South do not believe in such things, but in the North it would have been seen as a disgrace towards the Old Gods if they were to be kept apart."

Bainrìgh Cersei sniffs at him before heading to her brother, Ridire Jaime.

Jon almost sighs with relief as he walks back to the keep with his family, his hand firmly in Robb's.

"Where's the Imp?" Arya asks a final time, and Jon can't help but smile.

•)()()()(•)()()()(•

When they enter the feast, it is in the carefully thought out precession that Baintighearna Catelyn had insisted on, so that everyone in the family was included: Rìgh Robert escorted Baintighearna Stark, Tighearna Stark escorted Bainrìgh Cersei, Flath Joffrey escorted Sansa, Robb escorted Bainflath Myrcella, Flath Tommen escorted Arya, and Bran and Rickon escorted Jon.

The feast is a loud affair, filled with laughter and music. As any northern gathering is. Tonight it is made all the more louder by Rìgh Robert's bawdiness, and Jon can see Bainrìgh Cersei's disgust and Baintighearna Catelyn's embarrassment. Tighearna Stark is off by himself, as he is want to do during such events.

It is in the middle of the feast when Jon sees him, dressed in the all black attire of a Brother of the Night's Watch. Jon points him out to Robb and the two go to greet him.

"Brathairathar Benjen," Robb smiles as they approach where the man is talking to their father.

"Robb, my boy," Brathairathar Benjen exclaims as he pulls the Triath of House Stark into a tight hug. "How are ya?"

"I'm good," Robb tells him as they pull away.

"Jon! You got bigger," Jon smiles sweetly at him and kisses his cheek.

"It's good to see you Brathairathar Benjen."

"I rode all day. Didn't want to leave you alone with the Lannisters," Benjen smiles.

It's when the feast is just starting to wind down when it happens. Arya picks up a spoonful of minced meat pie and flings it across the table. The food lands squarely on Sansa's cheek, as she turns to answer a question from Flath Joffrey.

"ARYA!"

Arya pauses for a moment, as if startled, and then laughs at her sister's embarrassment. Jon moves towards Sansa then, nudging a chucking Robb as he goes.

Sitting in the seat Jeyne has vacated for him, Jon takes a cloth from the table and gently begins to wipe the meat and pie crust from Sansa's face.

"Why did she throw it at me?" his sister asks. "I haven't done anything."

"I don't think she was aiming for you actually," Jon tells her, giving a pointed look over Sansa's shoulder where Joffrey is laughing at her expense.

"I wish she hadn't missed," Sansa says so quietly Jon almost misses it.

Jon thinks for a moment, "Would you like to accompany me to the kennels, Piuthar Milis?"

"Yes," Sansa smiles. They stand and walk arm in arm out of the great hall.

"So," Jon says to Sansa as they sit in the wolf pups' kennel, Ghost and Lady in their laps. "What do you think about mating the prince?" Sansa glances away, biting her lip. "Hey," Jon cups her chin. "You can be truthful with me Sansa, you know that don't you?" Sansa nods.

"He might not be my True Mate," she says finally.

"Oh Leannan. What Robb and I have is rare, even in the North," Jon sighs as she looks away again. "But maybe Athair will ask the king to disregard the proposal if you happen to find your True Mate before you are mated."

"You think so?"

"I know so," Jon kisses her forehead. "Now, I think it's time for these two to go to bed," gesturing to the pups in their laps.