A/N: Thank you all for the support in the last few chapters of the saga of Stafford Baratheon and the trueborn heir. I have decided to postpone the next OC chapter till Saturday or Sunday, because the version my editor and I are currently working on is very unpolished (A lot of my current published chapters aren't very polished, so that would tell you how unpolished the current draft is). There is also work on my side project that will be released on the 28th, which is tomorrow. I tried not to update at 11 o'clock at night, but circumstance once against forced me to. This will not be a habit, I will try to stay on schedule in the future. This is one of the shorter chapters, but the next one is about average size and the next Stafford chapter, which comes out on the 30th will be the largest (It is currently being drafted and it is sitting at 3,000 words and only half-way finished). Anyway continue voting on the polls and continue reading.

Enjoy!

Jon

Jon climbed the steps slowly, trying not to think that this might be the last time ever. Ghost padded silently beside him. Outside, snow swirled through the castle gates, and the yard was all noise and chaos, but inside the thick stone walls it was still warm and quiet. Too quiet for Jon's liking.

He stood next to the landing to the place where Bran was being nursed, wondering whether this would be the last time he would ever see him again. Ghost nuzzled at his hand. He took courage from that. He straightened, and entered the room.

Jon stood at the archway of the door for a moment still trying to maintain his wits in courage as he strode into the room. The window gaped wide open, and underneath the bed, was another wolf. It howled in response to new visitor.

Lady Stark looked over. For a moment she did not seem to recognize him.

Finally she blinked. "What are you doing here?" she asked in a voice strangely flat and emotionless.

"I came to see Bran," Jon said. "To say good-bye." Her face did not change. Her long auburn hair was dull and tangled. She looked as though she had aged twenty years. "You've said it. Now go away." Part of Jon wanted to run, and never look back again. However, he knew he might never ever see his again, so he stood his ground. He took another step into the room.

"Please," Jon begged.

"I said go!" Lady Stark demanded. Jon could feel the hatred in the voice of Lady Stark. It wasn't his fault his father had been her husband. She just never seemed to understand that.

"He's my brother, too," Jon calmly stated.

"Shall I call the guards then?"

"Call them," Jon stated defiantly. He crossed the room keeping the bed between them as a space.

This was not the Bran he remembered. The flesh had all gone from him. His skin stretched tight over bones like sticks. Under the blanket, his legs bent in ways that made Jon sick. His eyes were sunken deep into black pits; open, but they saw nothing. The fall had shrunken him somehow. He looked half a leaf, as if the first strong wind would carry him off to his grave

"Bran, don't die. We'll all be waiting for you when you wake up," Jon began, "I'm sorry I didn't come earlier, I was afraid. Lady Stark just sat their emotionless on what had transpired.

"I have to go now," Jon said. "Uncle Benjen is waiting. I'm to go north to the Wall. We have to leave today, before the snows come." He remembered how excited Bran had been at the prospect of the journey. It was more than he could bear, the thought of leaving him behind like this. Jon brushed away his tears, leaned over, and kissed his brother lightly on the lips.

He began to make his way out until Lady Stark finally spoke again, "I wanted him to stay here with me." Jon looked at her warily. She was not even looking at him.

Jon did not know what to say. "It wasn't your fault," he managed after an awkward silence. Her eyes found him. They were full of poison. "

I need none of your absolution, bastard." Jon lowered his eyes. She was cradling one of Bran's hands. He took the other, squeezed it. Fingers like the bones of birds.

"Good-bye," he said. He had been at the door before he heard him call his name.

"Jon," she said. She looked at his face for the first time.

"Yes?" Jon replied back to her.

"It should have been you," She turned back to Bran and wept. Her sobs penetrated his heart like a bunch of daggers. No one deserved what she was going through. It was a long walk down the yard.

The yard was busier than ever today, as both parties leaving for both the wall and King's landing were leaving today. Horses were being saddled and harnessed. There were people quickly loading supplies in the wagons for the long trip back to the South. The North was a vast region, the biggest in all the seven kingdoms. Trekking back to the crownlands would take awhile before they reached their destination. Probably a month's ride in Jon's calculation.

Robb was in the middle of the yard, talking to what looked like Prince Stafford. Prince Stafford, had always given Stafford. Prince Stafford was in his full half plate armor ready for the long ride back to King's Landing. Stafford's cuirass, greaves, and gauntlets were all polished castle forged steel, which had a general fit on him. He was only a boy of fifteen, so they had made the fit a bit loose on him with a bit of room to grow, but they still looked to fit perfectly for him. Inside the plate, he had black boiled leather, with long black leather sleeves fit to Stafford. He had his battle axe strapped to his back, and a hand-axe sheathed in the back of his armor. Stafford's battle axe was a sight to see. It's ironwood pole held up the tinted castle forged steel axe head. The weapon is as impressive as Ice, the Valyrian steel blade his father used as an ancestral blade. Stafford's axe looked just like the blade only with a tinted steel. Robb wondered whether the blade was also Valyrian steel, but highly doubted it.

Uncle Benjen is looking for you," he told Jon. "He wanted to be gone an hour ago."

"I know," Jon said. "Soon." He looked around at all the noise and confusion. "Leaving is harder than I thought."

"Heading to the wall I see? I bid you good fortunes there," Stafford stated, "Just try not to get killed by your own brothers there."

"What do you mean?" Jon asked Stafford. Stafford let out a smile.

"Nothing Jon, Just making sure you were paying attention," Stafford chortled. Jon thought Stafford seemed more pleasant than his brother, Joffrey. They seemed like two different people, although Stafford sometimes gets a little too carried away with his emotions. There was no question he was still young and immature, just not a spoiled little shit like his brother was.

"By the way, did you see him?" Robb asked Jon.

Jon nodded in reply to his question. Stafford raised his head as he finished fastening his hand axe to his armor.

"Your brother is a strong one, he will not die," Stafford stated.

"He's not going to die," Robb said. "I know it."

"You Starks are hard to kill," Jon agreed. Stafford laughed a little.

"By the way, your sister, Arya told me she wanted to see you before you left. I was about help her pack for King's Landing. Would you like to join me?" Stafford asked. Jon looked at him.

"I'll do that," Jon stated.

"Stafford here got betrothed to our little, Arya. You take care of her now, Stafford," Robb declared. Jon knew there had to be some reason, Stafford had wanted to help his sister. Unlike Joffrey, Stafford seems to genuinely care for his sister, Arya, and that Jon was thankful. He then he turned his attention to Robb before he departed.

He pulled Jon to him and embraced him fiercely.

"Farewell, Snow." Jon hugged him back.

"And you, Stark. Take care of Bran."

"I will." They broke apart and looked at each other awkwardly.

"Uncle Benjen said to send you to the stables if I saw you," Robb finally said.

"I have another farewell to make with Stafford here," Jon stated.

"Then I haven't seen you," Robb said. Stafford began to walk with Jon as well. Jon and Stafford left him standing there in the snow, surrounded by wagons and wolves and horses. It was a short walk to the armory. He picked up his package and took the covered bridge across to the Keep.

"Why did we stop by the armory," Stafford asked as they crossed the covered bridge. Jon smiled at him.

"You'll find out soon enough," Jon replied. Puzzled Stafford continued with Jon to Arya's room. When they got Arya's room, she was packing her belongings in an ironwood chest that was about her size. Jon was puzzled in the size difference between her and Stafford. Prince Stafford looked much older than he was. He was only a boy of fifteen, which surprised Jon. He looked as old as Theon, who was nineteen.

Nymeria was helping her pack, as well. When Arya glanced to see, who had entered her room she jumped to her feat. She threw her skinny arms tight around his neck. "I was afraid you were gone," she said, her breath catching in her throat. "They wouldn't let me out to say good-bye." Jon sighed a little bit.

"What did you do now?" Jon asked.

"Nothing," There were a miscellany of items littered across the ground. Stafford began to help pick them up.

"Are you going to bring this?" Stafford asked as he held up some clothes. Arya nodded and Stafford just threw it inside the ironwood chest. Stafford continued to do this while Jon talked to Arya. Stafford would make a good servant with the amount of work he was willing to deal with. It seemed like he didn't mind most of the tasks being given to him anyway. Many would think of him a fine servant.

"It's just as well. I have something for you to take with you, and it has to be packed very carefully."

Her face lit up. "A present?"

"You could call it that. Close the door." Jon commanded. Stafford immediately stopped picking up clothes and closed the door. It seems Jon was right, Stafford would definitely make an excellent attendant or servant. It is too bad he had to be good with an axe and be a prince. Jon unwrapped his package and brandished a sword. Stafford's reaction to it was great. He looked both stunned and surprised Arya had just gotten a sword from him.

"A sword," she said in a small, hushed breath. The scabbard was soft grey leather, supple as sin. Jon drew out the blade slowly, so she could see the deep blue sheen of the steel. "

This is no toy," he told her. "Be careful you don't cut yourself. The edges are sharp enough to shave with."

"Interesting, it looks like a solid rapier, I prefer axes myself, but it is a fine weapon," Stafford stated looking at it.

"You really think so, Stafford?" Arya asked him. Stafford nodded.

"I once had to hold a tourney hand axe like a battle axe when I was a child. That was the first weapon I had ever gotten. Ser Barristan nor my father thought I could be trusted with a sharp blade or axe," Stafford explained. Jon noticed her sister's clear fondness for Stafford. Up until Prince Stafford had come to Winterfell, she had almost no interest spending time with boys and princes like his other half sister did. Stafford seemed to be the exception to that. It was the first time Jon had ever seen his sister spend a prolonged period of time with a boy that wasn't her sibling or family.

"I had Mikken make this special. The bravos use swords like this in Pentos and Myr and the other Free Cities. It won't hack a man's head off, but it can poke him full of holes if you're fast enough." Jon stated.

"I've faced people in duels that were from the free cites, great swordsman, but swords always fall against axes," Stafford stated. Jon was impresesed with the amount of combat experieence Stafford had gotten himself into. Stafford, although young had trained his body like Jon did. Unlike Joffrey, who would get dominated in a match against anyone. Seven hells, Arya could probably beat Joffrey even in the state of training she currently had.

"I can be fast," Arya stated. Jon and Stafford chuckled a little bit.

"Speed isn't everything, remember that. Actually try to hit your target," Stafford stated

"You'll have to work at it every day." He put the sword in her hands, showed her how to hold it, and stepped back. "How does it feel? Do you like the balance?"

"I think so," Arya said.

"First lesson," Jon said. "Stick them with the pointy end." Stafford immediately burst out laughing after that.

"What's funny?" Jon asked Stafford.
"Nothing, go on, I just got reminded of something," Stafford replied calming down a little.

"I know that!" Arya proclaimed. Stafford began laughing loudly again and Jon began to feel a little confused. It didn't take much to make Stafford laugh apparently. Then Arya's face started to look bleak.

"Septa Mordane will take it away from me," Arya stated.

"Not if she doesn't know you have it," Jon instructed Arya.

"Even if she does find it, I'll just tell her I gave it to you as a gift. Everyone knows rejecting a gift from a prince is considered rude," Stafford added. Arya looked at Stafford, with some gratefulness in her eyes.

"Who will I practice with?" Arya asked Jon. Jon thought for a moment and knew the answer was right in front of them. Jon pointed at Stafford.

"Stafford? But isn't he a little too experienced?" Arya asked Jon. Jon nodded.

"In order to be an effective swordsman, you're going to have to learn your way around tough opponents if necessary," Jon said, "Besides if you fight low level competition like Joffrey for example, you won't get any better."

"Don't worry. I'll try to take it easy, but I know you have enough skill to at least give me more practice then my dear brother, Joffrey," Stafford stated.

"Thank you," Arya said.

"Hey it's what I'm here for, anyway let me get back to helping you pack,"

Arya knew what was coming next.

They said it together. " . . . don't . . . tell . . . Sansa!" Jon messed up her hair. "I will miss you, little sister."

Suddenly she looked like she was going to cry. Stafford immediately looked up from trying to help her. "I wish you were coming with us."

"Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle. Who knows?" He was feeling better now. He was not going to let himself be sad. "I better go. I'll spend my first year on the Wall emptying chamber pots if I keep Uncle Ben waiting any longer."

Arya ran to him for a last hug. "Put down the sword first," Jon warned her, laughing. She set it aside almost shyly and showered him with kisses. Stafford quickly finished packing.

"Alright, everything is all ready," Stafford stated. Arya nodded at him. When Jon was about to leave, he turned around once again, as Stafford was now teaching Arya how to hold a sword properly.

"I almost forgot," Jon began, "All swords the best swords have a name,"

"Like Ice," she said.

"My axe has a name too, It's called Storm's Edge," Stafford stated. The name had a nice ring to it in Jon's mind, especially for a Baratheon.

She looked at the blade in her hand. "Does this have a name? Oh, tell me."

"Can't you guess?" Jon teased. "Your very favorite thing."

Arya seemed puzzled at first. Then it came to her. She was that quick. They said it together: "Needle!"

Before he left, he looked over to Stafford and signaled him, "Stafford may have a moment before I leave?"

"Sure," He stated as he told Arya to wait a moment. Stafford followed him outside the doorway.

"Take care of my sister, Stafford. By the gods, I will come down from the north to hunt you down if you wrong her in any way," Jon stated.

"Don't worry, nothing, including me will do her any harm," Stafford stated. Jon bid him farewell and Stafford went back into Arya's room. He can never forget the sounds of their laughter, especially his sister's and Stafford's laughter on the long ride up north.