Jon

Ser Robar, and by extension Bran, arrived shortly after Jon had teased Robb in the library about his upcoming wedding. It was at that time, before Lady Catelyn or their sisters were told of his arrival and had a chance to greet him, that Robb and he had proudly presented their younger brother with the sixth direwolf pup they had found, the one that seemed to sit there staring in curiosity at its surroundings, but never allowing itself to become attached to someone like the other pups had done with them.

Bran and the pup had taken to each other immediately, and much deliberation was given to the potential name of the pup, but none had been decided upon yet. The appearance of the direwolf pups was truly the work of the Old Gods, Jon thought upon seeing the pup's reaction to Bran, there could be no other answer. Ser Robar was less than thrilled that his page now had a direwolf, but he acquiesced when Bran asked if the pup could join them on their travels. The knight saw how behaved the other direwolfs were but did warn that if the wolf started acting up he would have to be released back into the wild.

The King's retinue stayed in Winterfell for twelve days. In those twelve days, Robb spent the mornings clustered in their father's solar. At the same time, Ser Rodrick and Theon led the King and his men on many a hunt throughout the Wolfswood, where the large elk, bears, and treecats provided new and exciting animals for the King to hunt. Sansa and Arya often found themselves sharing their lessons with the princess, much to Sansa's delight and Arya's dismay. Bran, who wasn't old enough to join Ser Robar on the hunts, was either practicing with Prince Tommen in swordplay, or at his mother's side.

Jon remembered being delayed one morning, and walking out into the courtyard to see Bran halfway up the Broken Tower. Before he could say anything, Lady Catelyn had appeared in the courtyard and caught sight of her son.

"Bran! Get down from there!" Lady Catelyn shouted. "You've been gone for months, and rather than spend time with your mother, you want to climb walls, even though you've been expressly forbidden from doing so?"

With guilt on his face, with a good mixture of disappointment, Bran had climbed back down and allowed his mother to lead him off somewhere.

Jon found himself in the library most of those mornings, Ghost lounging lazily at his feet, and most of the time in the company of one Tyrion Lannister. The man, who was ten years his senior but a foot and a few inches shorter, had a sharp mind, a sharper tongue, and might be a better storyteller than Old Nan herself. Despite their differences, Jon found himself engaging Lord Tyrion in conversation; Jon sharing his knowledge of the north, and Tyrion doing the same with the south.

The afternoons found Jon joining Robb and Theon in the training yard with his father and the King. Jon had been reluctant at first, but King Robert had insisted he joined them after Ser Rodrick had praised his sword fighting in front of the King. There they were often joined by members of the Kingsguard, Prince Joffrey, and the prince's bodyguard, Sandor Clegane, referred to as the Hound by almost all who knew the man.

Robb found himself in the unenviable position of having to spar with the prince, who wasn't as good with a sword as either of them, and always had some type of excuse as to why he'd lose. Jon had sparred with the prince once, but the prince did not take kindly to being beaten so soundly by a bastard, even if Jon was over two years older. The insults had made his blood boil but a look from father had tempered his rage.

King Robert got winded easily but he still moved with surprising grace given his size. And he wielded the sword he held like a hammer, raining blows upon the shields of any who agreed to spar with him, which was mostly Jon's father, and five of the six members of the Kingsguard who made the trip to Winterfell. It seemed that even if the weapon he held was not his famed warhammer, Robert Baratheon did little to change how he fought. Though if one had the strength the King still had, Jon could understand trying to overwhelm your opponent with your strength.

Much to the disappointment of both Robb and Jon, Ser Jaime did not spar with any during his stay in the north, at least as far as they could see. Which was upsetting because the Kingslayer's swordsmanship was well known and they had hoped to see it for themselves. Even Theon, whose flippant attitude and preference for a bow made him less enthused toward swordplay, had wanted to see the famed Kingslayer for himself.

On the thirteenth day, the majority of the King's retinue left in the morning. That included the Queen, all three of the royal children, three of the six Kingsguard members who had made the trip (Ser Mandon Moore, Ser Boros Blount, and Ser Jamie Lannister), all of the household staff that had accompanied the royal family, all of the Lannister men save five who remained, and all but ten of the Baratheon men. Many of the knights who had joined the King's caravan on the journey north had also decided to leave as well, for they were southern men, and the north was not a place one tended to linger.

The King had insisted he would remain in the North and ride back to King's Landing with his Hand, which would not be for another week. Ser Arys Oakheart, Ser Meryn Trant, and Ser Preston Greenfield were the three Kingsguard who stayed behind. The only other people from the expansive retinue that had originally come to Winterfell and still remained, outside of the small amount of Baratheon and Lannister men, and a handful of knights, was the King's squire, Lancel Lannister, and the King's good-brother, Tyrion Lannister.

"You think I wanted all those bloody people to come with us?" the King had said to their father at dinner the night before the Queen left. "We would have been here a week earlier if it wasn't for that damned wheelhouse and all the servants."

Jon had a suspicion that the King was happy to be rid of his wife, and to be able to escape being a King for a bit longer here in the North. He hunted in the morning, sparred in the afternoon, and spent his night's getting good and truly drunk while groping the serving maids. No, from what little he observed, Jon imagined his time in Winterfell was like a vacation to the King.

As for Lord Tyrion, Jon had to admit he had grown fond of the man and would consider him something of a friend.

"Why are you staying?" Jon had asked while they sat in the library on that thirteenth morning, as the rest of his family was out in the courtyard to see the royal family off.

"You have been fortunate enough to not have to spend time with my dear sister," Tyrion answered. "If you had, you would understand why I am choosing to stay. Besides, I wish to see the Wall. Well, I wish to piss off it, if I'm being honest."

Jon had laughed at that, thinking Lord Tyrion was joking, and the man did have a grin on his face, but it was clear he was serious. "Truly? You want to piss off the wall?"

"I do! When your uncle rides back to Castle Black, I shall accompany him."

"I do not think you are aware of exactly how cold it is that far north," Jon responded with a shake of his head.

The large retinue that had accompanied the King to Winterfell was going to be followed by the smaller retinue of Lord Manderly, who would likely be arriving in a few days time. With the Queen and Princess Myrcella gone, and them no longer needing to play host, Lady Catelyn and Sansa had been frantically rushing about to get everything set up for the wedding.

Jon just thought it would involve some words in front of the heart tree in the Godswood, and then a feast afterwards but apparently more went into it then he realized. In order to be a good brother to Robb, who was more and more nervous as the day of his wedding approached, Jon made it his mission to tease Robb mercilessly about his approaching wedding every chance he got. He was joined in this endeavor by Theon. The one thing that could unite him and the Greyjoy heir was making fun of Robb.

After another afternoon of sparring, Jon found his father grabbing him by the shoulder before he could join Robb and Theon in leaving to bathe off the sweat that coated their bodies.

"Jon, I would speak with you before supper."

"Of course, father," Jon said, allowing himself to be steered by his father.

They made their way to father's solar, where they each took a seat. His father looked deep in his thoughts, and it was a moment after they were both seated before he spoke.

"Have you heard Tyrion Lannister say anything about the King or the former hand, Jon Arryn?"

Jon's bows furrowed at the odd question. He shook his head. "No father, not that I can recall."

His father gave a heavy sigh. "I leave for Kings Landing in a few days' time. Lord Manderly should be arriving on the morrow, and Robb's wedding will take place shortly after."

His father had already told Jon that he was to remain at Winterfell, it was in the same conversation he had denied Jon's request to join the Night's Watch. There had been talk about making sure he stayed out of Lady Catelyn's way, so as not to upset her. Jon knew that Lady Catelyn didn't want him in Winterfell, and his father wouldn't be around to protect him. He'd make sure he avoided the lady at all costs.

"I have heard that when we depart south, Lord Tyrion is to travel to the Wall with Ben. I'd like you to accompany them."

"Have you changed your mind?" Jon asked, a feeling of eagerness rising within him. Joining the Night's Watch hadn't just been the wish of a teen filled with too much wine. He had spent many a night thinking about it. A bastard could gain honor in the Watch.

"No," his father said with a shake of his head. "You are still forbidden to take the black. At least not for a few years. No, I have several reasons for you to make the trip. The first is because that will get you out of Winterfell for a few weeks," and away from Lady Catelyn was left unsaid but both knew it to be the reason. "The second is because I would have you see for yourself what it is like to live at Castle Black, amongst the men of the Night's Watch. The third is that I would ask you to keep an eye on Lord Tyrion for me."

"Keep an eye on Lord Tyrion?" Jon asked, his face scrunched in confusion. Yes the man was short of stature, but Lord Tyrion was also a decade older, much smarter than Jon himself was, and would be in the company of several men tasked with guarding him. What could he, a boy of five and ten, do to keep an eye on Lord Tyrion?

There was a pained look in his father's eyes. "Yes. I know you have grown fond of the man and you share in conversations. All I ask is that in your journeys with him, should he say anything pertaining to the King or of Jon Arryn, anything at all, to make note of it and send me a raven when you get the chance."

That did nothing to lessen Jon's confusion. In his conversations with the man so far, Lord Tyrion had complained about his sister and his father, while praising his brother. That was the most conversation they had about anyone in the royal family, and nothing at all pertaining to the previous Hand. Still, his father was making a request of him, and it was a simple one to fulfill.

"Aye father, I can do that."

His father placed a hand upon his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze.

"Thank you Jon. I know you might have questions that I can not answer for you. All I ask is that you trust me, and speak of this to no one."

Those last few words left Jon with even more questions, but they were questions he held. His father already said he would not answer them, so there was no point in voicing them.

"Do you know when they mean to leave?" Jon asked, referring to Uncle Benjen and Lord Tyrion.

"The same morning I leave with the King, in a few days' time. After supper tonight, you should begin to pack for your journey to the wall."

Two days later Jon stood in the Godswood, one of almost two hundred assembled. While the Manderlys were of the seven, the Starks were of the Old Gods and so it was to those gods that the wedding would take place in front of. Although the sun had set and the dark of night gathered around them, lanterns hung from nearby branches, the flames within them flickering upon the wick, bathing most of the Godswood in their light. All those gathered in the crowd carried a lit candle in their hands, a warm orange glow cast upon each of their faces.

At the base of the heart tree stood Robb, dressed richly in the colors of House Stark, the white cloak hanging off his shoulders embroidered with a running gray direwolf. Next to Robb stood their father, also dressed in the Stark colors, a smile across his solemn face, and King Robert Baratheon, dressed in the yellow and black of House Baratheon. The King was a part of the ceremony because he had insisted that the King being one of those to wed the two would not only be an honor, but also a blessing upon their union.

The two hundred of people stood to two sides, as northern weddings were short affairs there was no need for seating, leaving a gap between them. Jon stood in the very first row, next to Arya and on the end of the row opposite Lady Catelyn. Across the gap from Lady Catelyn was Lord Wyman Manderly, whose girth made the King look small.

Off to the side the six direwolf pups played with each other, growling and yipping as they went about it. Jon was pleased to see that while he had been born the runt of the litter, Ghost was catching up to his siblings in size. Already he was as big as Lady, Sansa's direwolf, who was more well behaved than any of her siblings. Grey Wind was still the largest of them, but Jon secretly hoped that when they all finished growing Ghost would end up the biggest of them all.

Walking between the gap in the crowd was Wynafryd, her dark hair hanging down her back in an intricate braid. She was wearing a cloak of Manderly colors with the Manderly merman embroidered on it, and escorted by her fat father, Ser Wylis Manderly. As she walked down the aisle, Jon strained to see his brother's bride between the heads of all those gathered, thankful of his recent growth spurt. Wynafryd looked beautiful, and Jon felt a flash of envy for his brother. Robb married the beautiful daughter of a powerful house to cement his future as Lord of Winterfell. Jon would be lucky if any girl would marry a bastard.

Wynafryd and her father came to a stop next to Robb, and in front of both his father and the King.

"Who is it that comes before the Old Gods on this day?" his father asked, his voice carrying throughout the Godswood.

Ser Wylis puffed his chest out, reminding Jon of a picture he'd seen of a puff fish, and looked down upon his daughter with an affectionate smile. "Wynafryd of House Manderly, a woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble, comes here to be wed. She comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?"

"I, Robb of House Stark," Robb said, his voice cracking and drawing chuckles from the crowd and an embarrassed wince from Robb, "eldest son of Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn Stark, heir of Winterfell, do."

"And who gives her away before the Old Gods?" his father asked.

"I, Ser Wylis of House Manderly, come before the Old Gods to give away my daughter, Wynafryd."

"Lady Wynafryd," the King said, his booming voice echoing off the far away walls, "do you take this man?"

Robb and Wynafryd shared a look, and even in the dim light of the lanterns, Jon could see the blush that rose on his brother's face.

"I take this man," Wynafryd said.

"Lord Robb, do you take this woman?" the King asked.

"I take this woman," Robb answered.

"Ask the gods for their blessings on this union," the King said, "to ensure a happy and long life together, blessed with many children."

Both Robb and Wynafryd closed their eyes and bowed their heads. Jon counted the seconds in his own head. Almost a full minute before, almost as one, the bride and groom both raised their heads and opened their eyes.

As soon as they did, Bran surged forward from his spot next to his mother. In his hands he held a cloak of white, similar to the one Robb wore, but smaller in size. It was a task Robb had wanted Jon to do, but Lady Catelyn had argued against it until Robb had relented. Bran held out the cloak for Robb, who took it from his brother. Ser Wylis removed the Manderly cloak from his daughter's shoulders. Robb gave a small nod to Ser Wylis before he stepped behind Wynafryd and placed the new Stark cloak where the Manderly one had rested seconds before.

"With the blessings of the Old Gods, and those gathered here today, you are now one," his father declared.

Those in the crowd cheered, Jon joining them, and he nudged Arya, who had been making faces during the entire ceremony, so she would do the same. Robb and Wynafryd turned to the crowd, faces red with embarrassment. They both stood there for a moment, as if unsure would to do now.

"Well lad, are you going to kiss her or not?" the King asked.

Robb looked terrified at the prospect of doing so but gathered what courage he had, turned Wynafryd to him and pressed his lips against hers. The crowd cheered even louder, but even then they were almost drowned out by the King's booming laughter.

As was customary in the north, Robb scooped up Wynafryd in his arms and, with a bit of a struggle at first, carried her down the aisle and towards the Great Hall.

"Bet he's glad she doesn't take after her father," Theon muttered from his place behind Jon. "Otherwise he would have thrown his back out trying to lift her."

Jon stifled his laughter, sparing a glance back at the grinning face of the Greyjoy heir before they both joined the crowd as they made to follow the newly joined husband and wife.

Like every feast since the King arrived, Jon found himself sitting with the squires, though their numbers were much smaller now that most of the southern knights had left. The feast was grand, if not quite as grand as that first night of the King's arrival.

There was roasted boar and elk, each of them prizes on a recent hunt the King had undertaken, the meat slowly cooked for hours so that it fell off the bones at even the lightest of touches. There was cooked fowl with fire roasted darkened skin and leafy greens covered with nuts and crumbles of cheese. Bowls were spread out, filled with parsnips, sweet corn, peas and carrots, dates shriveled from the sun, and thick rolls smothered in melted butter. Short pitchers filled with different gravies were available to drown everything in the thick, brown sauce, and there was wine, each table sporting several flagons filled with Arbor gold, Dornish reds, and spiced honey wines from Lannisport.

As he ate his share, Jon did his best to temper his drinking this time around. He didn't want to make a fool of himself like he did the first night of the King's arrival by rushing off with angry tears in his eyes, nor did he want to deal with the awful feeling that had assaulted him the next morning.

"The gods punish us for over indulgences," Uncle Benjen had told him between laughter at the sight of Jon slumped at a table the morning after the King's arrival, head held in his hands and a pained expression on his face. "And you indulged more than most last night."

Moderation was something his father had taught him growing up, and his uncle used his sorry state that morning to remind him of it. Indulging in things like food and wine and ale was fine, as long as you knew where to draw the line.

"I should have been a northerner." Even with the music and the swell of voices that drowned out anyone who wasn't directly next to you, the King's voice carried over the hall. "None of that drawn out shite that the southerners love so much. Your northern ceremony is nice and short so you can get to the best part of the entire thing, the drinking and the bedding!"

The music grew in volume, and people rose from their seats to dance across the stone floor that separated the table up on the dais, and the rest that filled the hall. Robb took the hand of his new wife and together they joined the growing throng of couples. Jon could see his father and Lady Catelyn holding each other close, and Theon spinning around a laughing serving girl.

Jon was content to sit at the table and observe the festivities, it was what he had done most of his life. Robb would have none of it though, grabbing Jon's arm and pulling him from his seat.

"You can't sit here moping tonight of all nights. You have to dance with someone," Robb said, his eyes hazy from wine. "It's my wedding night!"

"Come off it," Jon said, trying to pull his arm from his brother's grasp. Robb wouldn't allow him to get away so easily, and dragged Jon toward all the dancing couples.

"Jeyne!" Robb said, waving Sansa's friend over from where she sat giggling with their sister. "Jon needs a dance partner!"