Jaime Lannister 292 A.C

That night was eventful. Jaime had drifted in and out of sleep often. The banner-covered bodies of Elia, Rhaenys and Aegon came to his mind often in these moments. His father's callous disregard for their lives something he couldn't understand or move on from. He remembered how angry he had felt watching Robert Baratheon claim the children were nothing but dragonspawn. Jaime hated Robert only slightly less than his father. Perhaps that was why he didn't feel as sad as he thought he would have done given the news he had received. Instead his heart went out to his brother Tyrion who would no doubt be saddened by the death of a man who had never treated him as his son. His morning musings were interrupted by a familiar call at his tent's door.

"Ser Jaime. The king requires your presence."

Jaime just shook his head. "Alright lad, I'll be there soon."

He quickly put on some clothes appropriate for seeing nobility and headed out through the war camp to visit his good-brother. Upon entering the king's oversized tent he was again treated to Ned Stark's gaze, although this time there was no pity in his eyes, there was an emotion Jaime struggled to place before Robert starting talking.

"Ser Jaime, good to see you feeling better."

Jaime stared blankly at the king. His father had died, he wasn't ill or sick. Even Ned looked at his friend incredulously.

"Well Kingslayer, we've got a lot to discuss, firstly I'll offer you a choice. Either you can continue to serve in the honourable ranks of my kingsguard or you can be freed from your vows to head home and become Lord of Casterly Rock."

Ned coughed. "Is that all your grace?"

Robert scowled back at him. "Well I suppose you'd take up your father's mantle of Warden of the West and of course Lord Paramount of the westernmost kingdoms with all holdings, privileges and such. What say you Kingslayer?"

"I believe it would be best for me to head back to my home your grace. My time in the kingsguard was enjoyable but I think I'd prefer the trappings that come with the title if you get what I mean your grace."

Robert laughed. "Of course Kingslayer."

Ned looked between the pair with that earlier emotion in his eyes. "Either way Lord Jaime, I'd invite you to follow the king and I back to Winterfell. From there you can head back home via the Kingsroad."

Jaime's curiosity was peaked. "Lord Stark, I think I'd very much enjoy visiting your home." After all why would Ned Stark be afraid of Robert Baratheon going to Winterfell.

Jon Snow 292 A.C

After the introductions had been made at the gate, he'd waited for Robb in the hopes of finding some answers about the two mysterious visitors. He'd sat with Ser Rodrick as the two of them waited for Robb's arrival to start their morning practice. Once Robb had arrived Jon didn't have a chance to ask anything until after their first spar had concluded. The two half-brothers stood beside one another sweat dripping from their faces and a tankard filled with water in their hands.

"So, who was that back at the gate?"

Robb took a gulp of water. "He's the heir to Raventree Hall, Brynden Blackwood. About our age I reckon."

"And what's he doing in Winterfell?"

Robb just shrugged his shoulders. "My guess is as good as your."

So with many unanswered questions the duo once again began to spar under the supervision of Ser Rodrick. At least that was until Ser Rodrick called a halt to their current practice. A servant had brought him a letter which he read quickly before sending her back the way she'd came. He then looked back at both of his students.

"Take a breather lads. Try and get some of your breath back, it appears as though we've got another young lad to join with our practices."

Robb and Jon glanced at one another quizzically. "Who?"

"I believe Ser Rodrick was referring to me." A voice called out from across the training yard. Both of the boys spun round to come face to face with the smirking face of Brynden Blackwood. This was Jon's first time seeing him up close. He was tall, at least for a boy their age with shoulder length black hair remarkably similar to his own. His eyes were a pale red while his left eye showed a thin scar. The boy was dressed in a large black fur coat and underneath was a black leather tunic with the collar adorned with birds. He stook his hand out towards Jon.

"I don't believe we've met My Lord."

Jon returned his handshake firmly. "I'm Jon Snow, My Lord."

"Lord Snow, a pleasure to meet you."

"Ain't a Lord. Just Jon."

Brynden gave him a smile. "Then I'll be just Brynden. Good to meet you Jon. That goes for you as well Lord Robb, I sometimes find the pleasantries to be a bit much."

Robb smiled at Brynden. "Then just call me Robb as well."

Ser Rodrick interjected. "Now, enough of the yapping lads, lets get you sparring quick."

Ser Rodrick led Brynden over to the weapon rack were the boy picked out a blunted wooden longsword. The trio, now all armed began circling. All three knew that jumping in early was a bad idea and left you open. Inevitably, the two boys who'd lived and practiced together all their lives ganged up on the third. They forced him back quickly the boy struggling to parry and block the attacks of the other two. The brother's onslaught persisted and eventually Brynden found himself surrounded. Robb stood in front of him while Jon was behind. All three boys panting and sweating, the spar having been intense and so far lasting over twenty minutes. Brynden closed his eyes and took a deep breath before both brothers jumped towards him. He managed to block Robb's blade that was headed for his shoulder while spinning and dodging Jon's overhead slash. An attack he shouldn't have been able to see, at least from both attacker's perspective. Brynden quickly capitalised by slamming his hilt into the back of Jon's head sending him to the floor. Robb was now left alone facing Brynden, his body exhausted from the constant swings and slashes he'd thrown at Brynden. Robb was about to yield; he knew he couldn't fight in this state, let alone win. But suddenly Brynden's eyes glazed over and rolled into the back of his skull. Brynden collapsed at Robb's feet, a small spurt of blood coated his leather boots. Robb stood rooted as Ser Rodrick's shouts of alarm broke the silence that had permeated the training grounds.

"GET THE MAESTER!"

Catelyn Stark 292 A.C

After hearing that the heir of one of her father's bannermen had been injured after just hours within her care she had rushed to the maester's room. The Lady caring much less about the thoughts of her servants as she usually did. Her reputation would take a much harder hit from the boy's injury than the words of her servants. Upon reaching the maester's chambers she was greeted with the sight of her son and her husband's bastard. Clearly this had to be his fault, Robb knew better than to go too hard in a practice spar with anyone of importance, she'd deal with the bastard later. For now, she had to make sure that Brynden was okay. There was a strain of happiness in her mind though as perhaps she could use this as a reason to ban Jon from sparring with her son.

She ignored the bastard while giving Robb a small smile which she was glad to see him return. Catelyn slowly peered round the door spotting the little lord's guard sat in the corner eye's glued to maester Luwin as he checked over the boy who was still unconscious. The boy's face looked peaceful so she had hope he'd wake soon.

"Sorry to interrupt maester, but in my worry for the boy I thought I'd come and visit. How is he?"

The maester looked back at her. "He should be alright My Lady. I'm not entirely sure what's wrong but from what I can tell he just collapsed out of exhaustion. I think the long travel and the sparring was too much for the young lord. I believe with rest he should make a full recovery."

Catelyn sighed in relief. "Good, good… maester please inform we when he wakes."

She turned and exited the maester's room but stopped just outside in the corridor, her cold eyes wheeled on Jon. "Your lucky the boy will be alright, take this as a sign that you should stay away from your betters. We don't need bastards trying to cling to those above them."

Robb turned to his mother with wide eyes. "Come Robb, let's get you to your lessons."

Catelyn was pleased to see the pooling of water in the bastard's eyes as she escorted her son away from him. Hopefully this time he'd get the message to stay away. He caused enough damage to her name by just existing, she wouldn't allow him to harm her children as well.

Jon Snow 292 A.C

He didn't understand why she hated him. Of course, he wasn't her son but he'd always tried to do right by her and his siblings. He and Robb were close with one another, didn't she see that? He adored little Arya and Sansa, something he hoped the pair also did with him. At least for Jon it felt like they did. It had never been the children who had shouted at him. Never been the children who had excluded him, always their mother. With her most recent outburst he had almost cried, that was the first time she'd called him a bastard, at least to his face. To do so in front of Robb caused so much embarrassment that tears had pooled in his eyes, but he resolved not to give her the satisfaction.

Instead he trapsed off into the godswood, probably his favourite part of Winterfell. Here he was not Jon Snow, he was just Jon and when here with Ned Stark it was not Lord Stark he spoke to but his father. The godswood was a place where his best memories were found. Every nameday morning he and his father would come, sit and chat with one another unbound by the constraints that his status placed him in.

Jon took a seat near to the Heart Tree; he left his father's seat open as he felt it reserved for him. His mind slowly drifted to the incident in the sparring yard earlier in an effort to forget his pain. The boy was good with a sword, that much was obvious being able to defend against two people at the same time was by no means easy. But it was the last move that had his mind confused and his head still ached slightly from were he'd been planted into the ground. There was no way, at least to Jon's mind, that Brynden should have been able to see him, let alone dodge his attack.

While Jon was drawn to the boy due to a clear shared interest in swordplay it was instead the exchange before the spar that had truly cemented his curiosity. This was not the first time Jon had met a visiting lord and while none of them had been outwardly rude, he could tell their actions came with the motivation of currying favour with his father. Something him and Robb had spoke about often was the irritation at being treated in such a way. Instead, Brynden had treated them both with respect and kindness. Moreover, he'd treated Jon the same way he'd treated Robb, something Jon had smiled widely at.

Jon hadn't seen the last few moments of the spar; his vision being filled with mud and grass. He had spoke to Robb about what had happened though and by all accounts Brynden should have wiped the floor with the exhausted Stark. Maester Luwin had said he'd been drained from long travel but Robb had said he didn't seem all that tired. Jon trusted maester Luwin though, one of the only people who treated him as a real person, and so who was he to argue with an experienced healer like him.

The most infuriating thing about Lady Stark's previous scolding was the fact he'd probably be kept away from both Brynden and Robb during the remainder of his stay, at least until his father arrived. Jon's mind had been somewhat cleared by the introspective thoughts and so before he left the godswood he knelt beside the Heart Tree in prayer. He prayed for his father to return soon, he prayed for a chance to be allowed to be with his siblings and he prayed for Brynden Blackwood to wake up soon.