A/N: Here's the sixth revised chapter.

VI.

Days had passed since that incident in the yard and Robb was still irate over it. Joffrey hadn't been much company during the welcoming feast, but he thought the prince would be friendlier once they practiced in the yard. Robb shouldn't have expected anything from the little shit.

"That was absolute horseshit," Robb said angrily. "He's fucking atrocious with the sword, but acts as if he's his uncle. Even Bran can knock his arse on the ground. Gods, who does Joffrey think he is?"

"The crown prince," answered Jon dryly. He sat by the black pool, one leg drawn up to his chin while the other was stretched out over the grass.

"Fuck the crown prince. He's lucky we didn't use live steel," Robb snapped. He slammed his fist into the bark of the weirwood tree. If it weren't for that title then he wouldn't have held back. "And those things he said to Dany. I wanted to kill him, Jon."

"I know." Jon went quiet. "She didn't deserve that."

Robb hadn't seen Dany since that day in the yard. She hid from the royal family in her room or the library. He heard she had tea with the queen, but it seemed that it hadn't gone well according to Arya. Then there was Joffrey. Robb wanted to punch the smirk right off his face. He worried for his siblings. Sansa, Arya, and Bran were to leave for the south with Father where he was to become the king's Hand. Robb had a feeling Joffrey would torment them and Father wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

They'll be fine, thought Robb. He turned away from the weirwood tree to look at Jon. His brother stared at the black pool, his face contemplative. He was always so serious, but this time he had a reason for it.

"Hey." Robb kicked Jon's leg. "Are you nervous about leaving?"

"... A little," Jon admitted, still not looking at him.

Robb couldn't understand why Jon was nervous. Father wrote to Lord Wyman Manderly to ask if his sons needed a squire. His second son Ser Wendel did, so now Jon was to leave for White Harbor at the same time as Father and the others. Uncle Benjen even offered to escort him there. Jon would become a knight. What was so wrong with that?

"Well, don't be. You're going to make an excellent knight," Robb said, smiling.

"Do you think so?"

"I know so... Now come on. Let's go practice in the yard. I feel knocking you on your arse."

Jon let out a surprised laugh then shoved Robb as he got to his feet. Grinning, he shoved Jon back and they raced their way over to the yard.

Tyrion Lannister felt as if he returned home from a long trip the moment he entered the warm library of Winterfell. He found comfort in libraries. From tales of mythical creatures to retellings of historical events, Tyrion often found himself nose deep in a new book.

"Oh." Tyrion blinked in surprise when he saw a girl sitting on a bench. She read from a heavy book, resting her chin in her palm. Her hair was bound in a silver-gold braid and her eyes were the same shade as violets. Those two distinct features only confirmed who Tyrion was staring at.

Ever since Tyrion heard of the Dragon Princess, he wanted to meet her. He'd been disappointed, but not surprised that she wasn't at the welcoming feast. Then he heard about her afternoon tea with Cersei and couldn't believe it. Tyrion wondered if his sister saw the girl as a threat and decided to torment her. Jaime must have been guarding her door. Did she freeze at the sight of her father's killer?

Daenerys Targaryen finally noticed him. She immediately climbed off the bench.

"Don't leave on my intrusion," Tyrion hastily said. She paused. "I assure you, I'm not here to trouble you. I only wish to read."

Her eyes, such an unusual color, were fixed on him. The distrust was plain on her face. He was a Lannister after all. Much to his relief, she slowly lowered herself back on the bench and resumed reading.

He stayed in the same area, too curious to leave. When would he ever get another chance to be this close with a true Targaryen? Tyrion busied himself with finding an interesting read, settling on a hundred-year-old discourse on the changing of the seasons by a long dead maester. He hefted the heavy, leather-bound book over to the same table where Daenerys sat, noticing her stiffen as he joined her.

"I'm Tyrion Lannister," he introduced, offering her a smile.

"That makes you the queen's brother," said Daenerys. Suspicion colored her tone. It made Tyrion's smile falter. "... Daenerys Stormborn."

"Stormborn?" he repeated.

"For the storm that raged Dragonstone during my birth," she answered then returned to her book without another word.

He tried to focus on the words in the text, but couldn't. There was no point in pretending. "Have the Starks treated you well?" Tyrion questioned.

"Yes. Why wouldn't they?" Daenerys asked, looking up with a frown.

"Because..." Tyrion noticed the genuine confusion on her face and quickly closed his mouth. Did she not know? How could she grow up unaware of how entangled the Starks were with the rebellion? "What are you reading?" he asked instead, not wanting to endure Eddard Stark's cold wrath.

"The Conquest of Dorne," she answered warily.

"Ah. I've read that one."

"Maester Luwin says he overstated his conquest."

"He was fourteen when he was crowned. Of course he would overstate his conquest."

The corners of her mouth curved upwards, just shy of a smile. She was a lovely girl, but that wasn't surprising. Targaryens were known for their beauty as well as their madness. Daenerys went back to reading and Tyrion did the same.

It was the first time since the visitors arrived that Winterfell was quiet.

The king wanted wild boar at the feast tonight, so he and most of the men in the castle had ridden out to hunt. Tomorrow they were leaving and taking Ned, Sansa, Arya, and Bran with them. Dany was finally free to roam the castle and wondered if it would feel this empty when everyone was gone. She felt guilty for not spending more time with the girls or Bran, but she couldn't ignore the crypts calling for her. Ever since the queen told her about Rhaegar and Lyanna, Dany felt this inexplicable pull towards the crypts where Lyanna rested.

Old Nan's stories crept into my mind as she approached the oldest part of the castle. She liked Old Nan and her stories, even if they scared her sometimes. When Dany pushed open the ironwood door, fear struck her as she stared at the stairs descending into darkness. She hesitated for a moment then forced herself down the winding, narrow stone steps with a lantern in hand. Dany shivered when she entered the darkness of the crypt. Her skin prickled with goose pimples as she walked between the pillars. It was colder down here than anywhere else in Winterfell, but it was the Lords of Winterfell that frightened her. In long rows the stone figures sat, their unforgiving faces staring into the darkness.

Finally, Dany made it to Lyanna. Her tomb was beside Lord Rickard Stark and Brandon Stark, her father and brother. She stared up at Ned's sister. This was the woman who launched a war? Even made of stone, Lyanna was beautiful. Still, it didn't make sense why her brother would kidnap her. He was married to Elia Martell and Lyanna was betrothed to Robert Baratheon. Were they in love? Dany wondered. Aemon might know. She needed to finish her letter for him before Benjen left. Knowing no answers could be found, she gave Lyanna one last look before leaving the crypt.

The sun was harsh in her eyes after rising from the darkness. Dany left the lantern and walked, not sure where she was headed until she found herself in the godswood. "Hi," she said, unsurprised to find Jon here. Ghost was curled up beside him.

"... Hello." Jon watched her come over and sit beside him on the grass.

"Do you remember that time," Dany began, smiling. "When you covered yourself in flour and—"

"Scared you all in the crypts?" Jon finished. He laughed when she playfully pushed him. He and Robb had schemed to terrify Dany, Sansa, Arya, and Bran years ago. Robb led them to the crypts and that was when Jon had appeared.

"We thought you were a ghost!" she exclaimed, unable to suppress her own laughter. She and Sansa had shrieked and held onto each other. "But then Arya hit you!"

"Yes, I remember." Jon's laughter dwindled, but his smile remained. "Why?"

Dany thought of telling him the truth, but Jon already had so much on his mind. She didn't need to add her troubles to his own. "Everyone's leaving. I wonder if they remember that day fondly too."

"I'm sure they do. Maybe not Sansa," he replied. She rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless. "Not everyone is leaving. You have Robb and Rickon."

"But not you," spilled out of Dany's mouth. Heat rushed to her face. She couldn't believe she said that aloud. There was no hiding from this, not when Jon was staring at her. "I'm going to miss you, Jon."

"I won't be gone for long," Jon said, his voice unexpectedly soft.

"I'll still miss you." Dany would miss everyone, but not everyone understood her like Jon. He knew what it was like to be an outsider. Sometimes words weren't even needed between them. She'd only have to look at him and he'd know what was on her mind.

Unthinkingly, Dany threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. He sat there frozen then relaxed and hugged her back. Jon always acted so shy when she showed him affection. Having him so close brought something tender and warm in her heart. Tilting her head up, she met his grey eyes, so dark she often mistook them for black. Dany couldn't count how many times the intensity of his gaze brought a fluttering inside her. Then she glanced at his lips. Did Jon ever think about kissing her? Did he want to kiss her? She didn't realize she had leaned towards him until he whispered her name. Dany stayed, waiting to see if he would do it. Her heartbeat hastened when Jon tilted his head and finally kissed her.

It was slow and careful until the tip of his tongue brushed against her lower lip. Dany trembled in his arms, her pulse quickening. Jon pulled away, an apologetic look on his face, but she leaned forward to kiss him again. The kiss wasn't so careful anymore. It was deeper and messier and his tongue slipped inside her mouth, setting her blood on fire. His hands were at her neck and in her hair. Dany kept her arms around his neck, never wanting to let go. She held on even when their kiss ended, hiding her face against the base of his throat.

"Dany..." Jon started, his breathing harsh. She lifted her head, but froze when she heard a wolf howl. They looked at Ghost, but the direwolf never made a sound. It got up from the ground and ran out of the godswood. "Ghost!"

Untangling themselves from each other, they chased after Ghost. Dany wondered where the wolf was going, but bile rose in her throat when they were led to the First Keep. There was Bran's wolf howling and on the ground was...

Daenerys let out a scream.

It was a long walk down to the yard after saying goodbye to Bran. Jon had been afraid of Lady Stark. Not once did she leave the sickroom and he stayed away, but now there was no more time. He begged Father to let him stay until Bran woke, but the Manderlys were expecting him and Uncle Benjen already made arrangements to escort him to White Harbor. There was a ship waiting to take him and Tyrion Lannister to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea where they would travel by foot to Castle Black.

Outside, everything was noise and confusion. Wagons were being loaded, men were shouting, horses were being harnessed and led from the stables. Robb was in the middle of it, shouting commands. Grey Wind was at his side. He seemed to have grown of late.

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

"I know," Jon said. He looked around at all the commotion. "Leaving is harder than I thought."

"For me too," Robb admitted. He had snow melting in his hair. "Did you see him?"

Jon nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

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

"You Starks are hard to kill," Jon agreed, his voice tired. The visit had taken all of his strength.

Robb knew something was wrong. "My mother..."

"She was... very kind." The lie came off awkwardly and Jon couldn't meet Robb's eyes.

Robb didn't look like he believed him, but didn't remark on it. "Good." He smiled. "The next time I see you, you'll be a knight."

"You'll have to call me ser," Jon replied with a strained smile. "How long do you think it will be?"

"Soon enough," Robb promised. He pulled Jon to him and embraced him fiercely. "Farewell, Snow."

Jon hugged him back, his resolve to leave threatening to weaken. "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."

"I have one more farewell to make," Jon told him.

"Dany?" Robb guessed. For a crazed moment, Jon wondered if he knew about what went on in the godswood. Then he remembered that Robb was out hunting and couldn't have. He and Dany were in their own world and he had felt so happy. Now Jon couldn't think about that moment without guilt eating at him.

"No. It's Arya," Jon finally said.

"Then I haven't seen you," Robb replied and Jon left him amidst the snow and wagons and horses.

It was a short walk to the armory. He picked up his package and took the covered bridge across to the Great Keep. Jon faltered at the sight of Dany leaning against the wall near her room door. She looked exhausted. He knew she spent every day since Bran's fall comforting his sisters. She had no idea how much that meant to him.

"What are you doing?" Jon asked, walking up to her.

"Septa Mordane has forbidden me from helping Arya pack." Her eyes went to the package in his hands. "Did someone give that to you?"

"A gift for Arya," he explained and she nodded.

Dany shifted on her feet before handing him a black fabric in her hands. He took it silently. Even with his gloves on, Jon could feel it was a ribbon made of silk. His eyes widened when he saw the red D embroidered at the bottom of each narrow strip. This was Dany's favorite ribbon. She used it to tie her hair back whenever she went riding.

"Are you certain?" Jon asked quietly, squeezing the ribbon in his hand.

"Yes." Dany leaned towards him to kiss him on the cheek. As she lingered, Jon wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

She untangled herself from him and they stared at each other for a long time. Then she nodded, a silent kind of farewell that ached his heart. Jon forced himself to go and say goodbye to Arya, leaving Dany to stand there alone.

Eight days.

His father and sisters were eight days gone and each day was more draining than the other. At the end of each day, Robb always thought, I can't do this, but he managed to wake up the next morning ready to endure the next set of problems. It didn't help that Jon had departed for White Harbor. Couldn't the Manderlys have waited a little longer for him? Everything would have been easier if he remained here at Winterfell.

Robb found Dany sitting at the end of the stairs leading up the sickroom. There was a pensive expression on her face, one she seldom wore. Robb was used to her warm smiles and sweet laughter, not this reflective silence. Yet she smiled when she noticed him approach.

"It feels like ages since we last spoke," Robb said as he sat next to her. "I hope you don't think I've neglected you."

Dany gave him a look and he smiled sheepishly. "I understand you have duties to fulfill. You're practically the Lord of Winterfell now."

"Gods, who knew being a lord was so much work?" He didn't want to visit the sickroom, as horrible as that sounded. Robb went everyday hoping to convince Mother to leave and rest properly, but she was half mad with grief.

"Your father would be impressed," Dany said. She nudged him with a smile. "I certainly am."

"Someone has to do it," Robb mumbled. He closed his eyes as he tilted his head back, savoring the silence. He needed to sit with Dany more. Her presence eased his worries. "It's strange without everyone here."

"And quieter," she added. "The only noise I hear are the wolves and Rickon."

He withheld a groan when he heard Rickon. Opening his eyes, Robb saw Rickon coming over to them with tears in his eyes. None of the maids could console Rickon and Mother ignored him to watch Bran. Robb didn't know what to do with him. He didn't expect for Dany to hold her arms out nor for Rickon to run into them. He watched Dany soothe his brother with soft words and a hand rubbing his back.

"Do you take care of him often?" Robb asked.

"Whenever he feels restless he comes to me," Dany answered then ruffled the toddler's hair. "Right, Rickon?"

"Dany hasn't left me," said Rickon, clutching onto her.

"I haven't either," Robb pointed out, sharing a look with Dany.

"You're never here," Rickon replied then yawned. He flinched when they were heard shouting echoing from the sickroom. Robb knew the voice yelling was his mother.

"Let's get you ready for bed," Dany decided, gently removing Rickon from her to stand. She held his hand. "Your mother needs you, Robb."

Nodding, Robb walked up the stairs. Mother's voice grew louder as he neared, cracking like a whip in response to whatever Maester Luwin was asking of her.

"My son lies here broken and dying, Luwin, and you wish to discuss a new master of horse? Do you think I care what happens in the stables? Do you think it matters to me one whit? I would gladly butcher every horse in Winterfell with my own hands if it would open Bran's eyes, do you understand that? Do you?"

The maester bowed his head. "Yes, my lady, but the appointments—"

"I'll make the appointments," Robb decided, and both seemed alarmed to see him standing in the doorway. Mother looked rightfully embarrassed.

Maester Luwin looked from her to him. "I have prepared a list of those we might wish to consider for vacant offices," he informed Robb. He offered him a paper plucked from his sleeve.

Robb read the names. "Good men," he said, handing him back the list. "We'll talk about them tomorrow."

"Very good, my lord." The paper vanished into his sleeve.

"Leave us now," Robb commanded, then shut the door once Maester Luwin departed. He turned to his mother, taking in her unwashed hair and circles under her eyes. "Mother, what are you doing?"

"What am I doing?" she echoed, puzzled. "How can you ask that? What do you imagine I'm doing? I'm taking care of your brother."

"Is that what you call it? You haven't left this room since Bran was hurt. You didn't even come to the gates when Father and the girls went south."

"I said my farewells to them here, and watched them ride out from that window." She took Bran's limp hand, twining their fingers together. "I can't leave him, even for a moment, not when any moment could be his last. I have to be with him, if... if..."

Guilt filled him and Robb made sure his voice wasn't so harsh when he said, "He's not going to die, Mother. Maester Luwin says the time of greatest dangers have passed."

"And what if Maester Luwin is wrong? What if Bran needs me and I'm not here?"

"Rickon needs you," Robb snapped, his frustrations arresting him. "He's only three, he doesn't understand what's happening. He thinks everyone has deserted him, so he follows me around all day, clutching my leg and crying. Do you know who's with him now? Daenerys. She's been mothering him for you." The weight of his responsibilities were finally catching up with him and Robb suddenly felt overwhelmed. "Mother, I need you too. I'm trying but I can't... I can't do it all by myself."

It may have been the waver in his voice or the emotion behind his words, but Mother seemed to finally understand what he was trying to tell her. Outside the tower, a wolf began to howl. Robb opened the window and let in the night air, relieving the stuffiness of the sickroom. The howling grew louder and he could hear the despair in it.

"Don't," she told him. "Bran needs to stay warm."

"He needs to hear them sing," Robb said. Somewhere out in Winterfell, a second wolf began to howl in chorus with the first. Then a third, closer. "Shaggydog and Grey Wind. You can tell them apart if you listen close."

Mother shook and he wasn't certain if it was from the cold or the howling. Then she started to sob and tore her hand from Bran's to cover her ears. "Make them stop!" she cried. "I can't stand it, make them stop, make them stop, kill them if you must, make them stop!" She fell to the floor, weeping, and Robb lifted her up.

"Don't be afraid, Mother. They would never hurt him," Robb murmured as he helped her to her narrow bed in the corner of the sickroom. "Rest. Maester Luwin tells me you've hardly slept since Bran's fall."

"I can't," she said through sobs. "Gods forgive me, Robb, I can't. What if he dies while I'm asleep, what if he dies, what if he dies..." The wolves were still howling and Mother screamed. "Oh, gods, close the window!"

"If you swear to me you'll sleep." Robb went over to the window, but as he reached for the shutters, he heard the hounds barking. He froze when he saw the flickering reddish light across the bailey. Fire, he realized. "The library tower is on fire."

"Thank the gods," he heard his mother whisper. Robb turned to look at her, unsettled. Had she gone mad?

"Mother, stay here. I'll come back as soon as the fire's out." He ran before she could say anything, shouting to the guards outside the room to help him put out the fire.

Guards were already tossing buckets of water at the blazing tower when Robb finally reached them. When they finally put out the fire, someone alerted Robb that Bran's wolf had run into the sickroom, he gathered the maester and Ser Rodrik and half the guards to see what was going on.

He hadn't expected to open the door to find Mother shrieking with hysterical laughter, blood spattered over her face and oozing out of her wounded hand, nor to find her sitting near a man whose throat was ripped out. Most of all, Robb hadn't expected to see Bran's direwolf lying beside him on the bed, his fur dark with blood. When Mother finally stopped laughing, Robb wrapped her in a blanket and led her back to the Great Keep to her own chambers. He had Old Nan bathe her before Maester Luwin dress the wounds on her scalp and fingers.

I can't do this, Robb thought again as he headed back to his chambers. Everything seemed to be going horribly wrong ever since his father and sisters left. He let his mind drift to something more pleasant as he soaked in his bath, only he couldn't think of anything.

It was the middle of the night when someone knocked on his door. Unable to sleep, Robb didn't have trouble climbing out of bed to see who was there. He widened his eyes at Dany. Her silvery hair was loose and tousled. It was strange seeing her hair not bound by a braid or ribbon.

"Can't sleep?" Robb asked, smiling tiredly.

"Walk with me?" Dany looked so lonely, so Robb nodded and went to put on something warmer. They walked through the empty halls of the castle, the silence between them lingering but not uncomfortable. Finally, she said, "Hopefully the rest will do your mother some good."

"I hope so too." Robb couldn't forget Mother's manic laughter. He quickly pushed that out of his mind. "Did the fire frighten you? Is that why you can't sleep?"

"I've never been afraid of fire," she told him. Robb felt like a dolt. He always forgot that Dany was a Targaryen. "No, I... I had other things on my mind."

Robb looked at her, waiting, but she never told him. He sighed and continued their aimless walk in easy silence.

It was the fourth day that Lady Stark was still asleep, her mind at ease from the milk of the poppy Maester Luwin provided her. That put Robb in better spirits, but he couldn't relax. Dany told him he'd soon start to grey, but he didn't find the jape amusing.

Dany found it hard to sleep alone. Her room felt impossibly large without Sansa and Arya. She missed those late nights of gossip and confessions, of braiding their hair and hitting one another with pillows. Blood or not, those were her sisters. Baratheon had to take them from her, just as he had taken everything else. Jon hadn't been taken from her, but it felt like it. He was likely close to White Harbor now. He was near Winterfell, so at least it was easier to see him than everyone else in King's Landing. Dany still missed him and so did Robb. He seemed almost lost without his brother, but he persevered. She didn't expect anything less from a Stark.

He wasn't in the yard, but Dany found Theon instead. He practiced with his longbow, never missing a target. "You never miss, do you?" she asked after he released his last arrow.

Theon turned around, that familiar smirk on his face. "You grow lovelier with each passing day, my lady."

That was unusual. "You're courteous this morning," Dany remarked.

"I'm always courteous."

"When are you ever courteous?"

"Right now I am."

Dany laughed and followed him as he collected his arrows. She watched him and realized they should be closer. Theon was a ward like her and his reasons for living with the Starks were just as grim as hers, but he had a family that he could return to if Lord Stark permitted it. Dany only had a great-great uncle at the Wall and a lost brother.

"Theon?" she said, tentative. He glanced at her from over his shoulder. "Do you miss your home?"

"Sometimes," Theon admitted, considering her. "What made you ask?"

"I only ask because I wonder what it's like to…" Dany paused, trying to explain. "To have a home and miss it."

"Isn't this your home?" he questioned, gesturing to the castle behind them.

"Sometimes, but you know it isn't," Dany answered quietly.

Theon stared at her, a surprised look on his face. He shifted on his feet, about to say something, when someone called their names. Dany whirled to see Robb approaching them, dressed in boiled leather and ringmail with a sword hung at his waist. Robb's eyes widened at the sight of them, but he told them that Lady Stark had woken. He wanted them to join him as he told Lady Stark about her attacker. The man killed by Bran's wolf was not a man of Winterfell. Some said they saw him about the castle for these past few weeks. Dany had a feeling he was one of the king's men... or the Lannisters'.

She thought of Jaime Lannister. The Kingslayer. Dany couldn't recall him looking murderous at the sight of her, but that didn't matter. He could easily hide his intent behind that comely face. Did he greet her father with a smile before killing him? As part of his Kingsguard, her father must have trusted Lannister. She remembered Joffrey's words and felt sickened by them. Her father wasn't mad and Lannister was a murderer. He would likely kill her had the king allowed it.

"He must have been a thief," Robb had theorized. "Why else would he have a dagger made of Valyrian steel?"

"But there's nothing to steal in a sickroom," Dany pointed out.

"Maybe he was lost," Theon said. He merely grinned when she and Robb glared at him.

It turned out, however, that there was more to the mysterious man than just being an ordinary thief.

Jon didn't believe his uncle when he said Jon would smell White Harbor before you saw it, but he'd been right. He expected something unpleasant, but it was clean. Jon liked the sharp, salty scent of the sea and understood why Father sent him here.

"Welcome!" exclaimed a large man as their small party entered New Castle. He was the largest man Jon had ever seen, with an immense walrus mustache and a head bare of any hair. "It's been too long, Benjen!"

"Ser Wendel." Ben smiled and greeted the other man warmly. Jon widened his eyes. This was Ser Wendel? He glanced at Tyrion Lannister and found the small man smiling smugly. Jon's frown only made Tyrion grin.

He didn't like the dwarf at first. The first time they met was at the welcoming feast. He gave Jon counsel regarding his bastard status, something that sobered him but not by much. Jon was still drunk when he returned to his room that night. Then there was that day in the wolfswood. Tyrion had gone too far, telling Jon he'd only amount to being a bastard knight, but Ghost knocking Tyrion on his back humbled the small man. Now they were something akin to friends.

"Ser Wendel. It is an honor to serve you." Jon was more formal than his uncle.

"So serious. There's no mistaking that you are Ned Stark's son," remarked Ser Wendel. He slapped Jon on the back and he struggled not to stumble. "You seem strong, lad! It'll make training easier. And if it isn't Tyrion Lannister! I thought you were heading back south with your sister and the king?"

"I'm curious about the Wall, Ser Wendel. Have you ever been?" replied Tyrion.

"No, no. It's too cold and not enough eels," answered Ser Wendel, shaking his head. "The servants shall show you to your rooms, but Jon must come with me. I have much to show you, lad."

"Best not learn his appetite, Jon," Tyrion told him, keeping his voice low enough so only Jon heard. Jon hid his laughter behind a cough.

Ser Wendel led Jon through the castle, introducing him to everyone who passed by them. Jon could hardly remember all the names. He was more interested in all the sea creatures painted on the walls and floors and ceiling. It was almost dizzying trying to look at everything. He nearly bumped into a girl. Highborn from the look of her gown, but her hair was a different matter. It was blonde with the ends dyed pink.

"Is this your new squire, Uncle?" asked the girl. She looked no older than Dany.

"It is! Jon, this is my niece Wylla," Ser Wendel introduced, patting Jon on the back again. He was going to be sore by the end of the night. "Wylla, this is Eddard Stark's bastard, Jon Snow."

Jon bristled, but remembered Tyrion's words and forced himself not to get angry. Wylla seemed offended for him. "His son you mean," she said, giving her uncle a sharp look.

"That's what I said," the big knight replied, oblivious. "Come on, lad. We still have much of the castle to see."

"It was nice meeting you, my lady," Jon said politely.

"It's Wylla!" exclaimed the girl and Jon smiled. She reminded him of Arya.

As Ser Wendel chattered on, Jon found himself less worried about his time in White Harbor. The knight was loud and boisterous, but meant well. Father esteemed him enough to have Jon become his squire. There was much of the port city to explore and Jon was eager to see it.