Parting The Pack

While Winterfell was abuzz with a newfound wonder following Ser Jaime and Joe's duel, our newly anointed knight and the king's hunting party set out to the Wolfswood. The King insisted on catching something for tonight's feast.

"I'll leave you here and return home," Sensei told Joe when they reached the Wolfswood, "Call on me when it's time."

"You sure you don't want to stick around and enjoy the splendor? Not every day you get to hunt with the extravagance of a king."

What Joe said was an understatement. King Robert traveled with servants who would set up a lavish base camp. Hounds and horse riders. Wagons packed with wine from all over the continent, fruits, meats, soft beds, and even a few whores from Winter Town.

"This isn't hunting," Sensei would say vacantly, "More like a bunch of fooking twats slapping their cocks together."

"I don't quite follow. Twats with cocks? What's next, clits with dicks?"

Sensei didn't bother answering Joe and retired back into the woods.

It was a modest party. They all dismounted and left the camp location, leaving the servants to their tasks.

"Leave the entourage at camp, your grace." Joe insisted, taking what Sensei had told him to heart, "I don't know how you poofters do things down south, but here in the Wolfswood, we hunt like *men*."

King Robert took this as a challenge, "Have it your way, Ser Joe!"

King Robert strode at the point alongside Lord Stark. He sipped from the wineskin he held in one hand, with a boar hunting spear grasped in the other.

Prince Joffrey wanted to join his father, so Robb tagged along also.

Vera had taken a liking to the two, so she nipped at Tyrion Lannister and the Sandor Clegane's heels, wagging her tail and grinning like mad.

Theon Greyjoy and Ser Rodrik wore the more severe faces of the company. Void sprinted ahead into the Wolfswood like how a dog enjoys jumping into a pile of leaves.

Joe walked at the back with Uncle Benjen, enjoying the mellow aroma of the pines.

It was a humble hunting party, a far cry from the many hounds and horsemen that King Robert was initially going to use.

"Will it be all right with just Vera?" asked Ser Rodrik, wanting to avoid this hunt being a fail and the king thinking ill of northern country.

"Of course. Vera is worth a hundred hounds."

*WOOF!*

"So, Ser Joe." Uncle Benjen began to inquire, teasing with that hint of northern contempt toward southernly ways, "You going to tell me about what happened with the kingslayer?"

Joe chuckled, ['They still don't believe my story, so they send dear Uncle Benjen.']

"What is there to tell? I admire the man's fighting skills and challenged him to a duel. Who am I to decline if he wants to knight me?"

Uncle Benjen wasn't convinced, "You and me both know that's not how it works."

Robb chimed in. Evidently, everyone was listening.., "Why would he fight a nobody like you?"

"Why not? They say he's the best fighter in the realm. I told Ser Jaime that I disagreed. *I'm* the best. Next thing you know, we were throwing down in the courtyard."

Lord Stark had an issue with the rankings, "I've seen Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime fight. Ser Barristan might be losing a step, but I wager he could best the kingslayer."

"Ser Barristan Selmy, what a man!" King Robert had a musical voice when his throat was lubricated with wine, "Him and Arthur Dayne. They don't make knights like them anymore. Those were the days, right Ned?

Sandor Clegane took the opportunity to share his philosophy with the group, "Knights are just flowery cunts."

"Hmm, if you are what you eat, then perhaps this is just my natural evolution?" Joe purported.

"Please," said Tyrion, each step a laboring pain for his hangover condition, "If that were the case, I'd have been knighted long ago."

Lord Stark had to test the waters, "I imagine your father won't be too pleased when he hears about Ser Jaime."

"Good. Let Jaime be the disappointing child for once."

At this moment, Vera perked herself up, sniffing her nose in the air and listening closely.

Then she sprinted off without warning.

King Robert was talking casual shit with Ser Rodrik about the good old days; GODS he was strong then.., when he saw Vera go, "Joe!" the king quaked, " Your bitch cottoned onto something!"

"Her name is Vera, and you bet your ass she has."

*WOOF!* *WOOF!*

As they tried to hone their ears onto the distant yapping of Vera and the rustling of whatever beast was being herded their way, everybody couldn't help but be captivated by the forest.

Perhaps the anticipation was heightening their senses, but they all felt it.

It was the white sun seeping through the pines. The eerie breeze that whistled with the birds. And the inclination that anything could be in that wood, waiting to be discovered.

*Rumble!*

First, you could hear those lumbering steps. Fat and plush.

*Reee!* *Reeee!*

Followed by the wailing squeals.

"Seven hells, look at the size of that thing!" King Robert stated the obvious, quickly throwing his wine skin and taking hold of his boar spear with two hands.

"Everyone get back!" Lord Stark ordered.

"Please get behind me, my lord." Ser Rodrik insisted. He and Theon Greyjoy formed a meat shield between Lord Stark and the boar.

Speeding towards them was a boar as big and nasty as any you would ever lay your eyes on. Its tusks were long and curling with death, with crazed eyes determined to run through anything in its way.

Vera had done her job well. She may just be the best hunting dog in all the Seven Kingdoms.

Joffrey flinched and sheepishly cowered behind Sandor Clegane and Uncle Benjen.

Tyrion did the same, but he wasn't a bitch about it. He had no shame. He knew his weaknesses.

Robb braced himself with his spear, ready to back King Robert, who bravely faced the charging boar, laughing and cursing.

Joe, on the other hand, just sighed.

"No need to worry yourselves," Joe said, stepping forward and notching an arrow into his Weirwood bow. Its bone-white elegance complimented by the engravings of forest animals and trees. "I'll handle this."

"Are you mad?" Prince Joffrey spat, "You need a spear to hunt boar!"

Robb eased, "If he said he's got it, then he's got it."

Theon smiled like a smug asshole, "Watch very closely, my prince. You might learn something."

Yet everyone else was still apprehensive. Under normal circumstances, Ser Rodrik and Lord Stark might have let Joe do whatever stunt he would pull this time. But they had the king to consider.

King Robert was all for it. Joe had been a youth of many surprises thus far. Why stop a gift when it keeps on giving? "Have it your way, Ser Joe. I charge you to show us what you can do."

"Very well."

The boar came stampeding toward Joe like a torpedo through the boscage.

King Robert stood at the ready, "You sure you don't want my help?"

Joe waved King Robert off and replied to his son with a quiet smile, "It's true, my prince. Under normal circumstances, an arrow is not able to kill a boar. Attempts at doing such a thing is hazardous."

Prince Joffrey shuffled in his place. The whole group was inching themselves away from Joe, away from the collision course of razor-sharp boar tusks.

That's when Joe gazed at Joffrey with his amber eyes. They slanted like that of a predator. Nothing escaped his vision. "However, there are ways you can make it work."

Joffrey glanced around awkwardly. He knew this conversation was targeted at him, but the scope of it all had him choked for words, "H-how?" he managed to muster.

"Easy."

Joe pulled his bowstring back with the grace of an angel playing her harp. The way his hands and fingers glided along the strings and feather fletching looked like the tender workings of a queen brushing the hair of her little princess.

But as soon as you'd allow yourself to admire the beauty of it, the arrow was released, and the magnificence was over before you felt like it even began.

*Pew!*

*Pssst!*

All everyone could see was a blurry line fuzz through the air and absorbing into the head of the boar like a fly going into someone's face.

Followed by the boar collapsing, its momentum dragged it along the ground, stopping at Joe's feet.

The boar's dead face stared up at Prince Joffrey, frozen in a frenzy.

Joe took out the arrow that was lodged in the boar's socket like it was just another day at the office,

"You aim for the eyes."

***

Things continued for almost a month.

The king whored and drank and ate himself senseless, touring much of the land surrounding Winterfell and no doubt fathering a few bastard children along the way.

Joe spent much of his time enjoying the lectures of warfare that Ser Jaime so graciously offered to give him.

It was a big surprise to everyone when they saw the two all buddy-buddy with each other. The children of the castle and Winter Town would gather daily in the courtyard just to watch the two knights converse and spar through numerous motions.

And no one attended these seminars more so than Bran.

"You're good, perhaps the best." Ser Jaime told Joe on one occasion, "But you could be better."

"That's a bit of an empty statement, don't you think?" said Joe as he wiped the sweat from his brow after one of their training sessions. "Not that you haven't got me curious."

"Your swordsmanship is quick, strong, brutal.. It flows well. The best footwork I have ever seen. But it's not the sword that's holding you back."

"Oh?"

"It's your eyes. They give away the game."

"Hmm." Joe stroked his chin in contemplation, "I think I follow you."

"It's not just them. Your face is too expressive when you make your move. Don't grimace before you lunge."

Joe found it quite mind-blowing to hear Ser Jaime's insight, "Then how on earth do I focus on my opponent's face and eyes, as well as their movements?"

"All of that comes with experience."

Jaime's brother was a different story. Joe's memory of Tyrion from the TV show was that of a clever man with an eloquent tongue and a sharp mind.

For most of the month at Winterfell, however, his behavior was rather degenerate.

Tyrion whored and drank each night as if he had something he desperately wanted to forget. Drowning his sorrows in an ocean of tits and wine, never reaching that sublime. Always humming the same old tune.

As if that would make a difference.

Tyrion and Joe enjoyed each other's company whenever the dwarf wasn't too fucked up on the sauce. Joe will never forget Tyrion's reaction when he saw Winterfell's library.

"These scrolls.. They're Valyrian!" Tyrion said in awe as he delicately opened the ancient parchments.

"Ayrmidon's Engines of War! This is rare and the only complete copy I've ever seen!"

Joe felt like he was watching a child opening presents at Christmas, "Haha, you take to the library tower like a pig in shit, my lord."

"If I'd known how extensive your library was, I might have visited much sooner."

Tyrion's thirst for knowledge was so deep that it felt contagious, "I'll ask my father about lending you some of the scrolls." Joe told him.

"Thank you, Ser," Tyrion replied with gratitude, his mouth beginning to… salivate? "It begs the question of what's lurking in the library at Castle Black."

Just the thing Joe was hoping to hear. An adventure with Tyrion to raid Castle Black's library?

['Sign me up!']

***

Lord Stark spent the month mentally preparing himself for the next chapter of his life down south among the squalor.

A raven came in the night from Lysa Arryn, which stated that the previous hand of the king, Jon Arryn, did not die by natural causes but was *murdered*.

Lysa was adamant that the Lannisters were behind it.

'Dark Wings, Dark Words.'

Perhaps if Lord Stark had not received that raven, he might have declined King Robert's offer. But now that he knew his best friend was all alone in a capital full of vultures and schemers, he felt compelled by duty to accept the offer of being the Hand of the King. If the roles were reversed, Robert would have done the same for him.

Honor-bound till the day they die.

Lord Stark would take 50 of Winterfell's house guard down with him to Kings Landing. This included Winterfell's steward, Voyan Poole, along with his daughter Jeyne, who was roughly the same age as Sansa.

It was good that Jeyne was coming with them. She and Sansa fancied themselves as ladies of the realm. Prim, palaver, and all things proper.

Where else better to go other than Kings Landing? Valiant knights and songs that regale an everlasting summer. Nothing but 'exotic' fragrances and the taste of honey in your mouth. Flower petals that fall on the streets like glitter in the current.

Grand balls in great halls. Dancing, prancing, fun.

On and on and on for long.

What could go wrong?

***

It was some eve before Lord Stark's party set out. Joe called a family meeting of siblings.

It was in the Great Hall. Joe ensured that all the hearths were ablaze with the warmth of home.

They sat at the main table, like a Stark version of Leonardo Da Vinci's 'The Last Supper'.

In the center, in his father's seat, was Robb Stark.

Steadfast as he was decisive, brim with exuberance and walking with a metamorphic posture- early signs of his greatness to come. Greywind at his side, white, silver, and grey. But his ears were black, making him look like a dog panda.

Greywind made Joe think, ['Do pandas exist in this world?']

To his side, the seat of honor, the right-hand man. It was the seat that any guest would want. The place where the lord of the castle could easily lean over and whisper gossip about the guests below.

Sansa took this seat. With Lady by her feet, her white shoulders begging for a pat as if to brush off some snow.

Next to her was Rickon, with the dark Shaddydog looking wild as ever, and Theon watching the bite-prone direwolf with vigilance.

In the other seat beside Robb was Bran, a befitting seat for the second son. Summer rested his head on Bran's lap. His silver cloud fur coat was bushy, making him look like one of the biggest of the direwolf pack even though he probably wasn't.

Next to him was Arya, fierce as Visenya herself. Nymeria by her side. Her grey fur had a whiskey burl to it as if it was factory-made for the harshest conditions.

Jon sat on the outskirts, gazing into Ghost's blood-red eyes.

And where was Joe in this seating arrangement?

He sat on the table with his legs crossed.

Void had no interest in this, so he curled up and tried sleeping by one of the hearths, enjoying the warmth of the fire. Vera played at catching Voids moving tail with his paws. It was only a matter of time before Void's patience ran out and he takes a swipe at her…

"Now that we're all here," Joe began as soon as the last person was seated, "I think it's time we have a meeting. Our Lord Father is going south alongside Arya and Sansa. Jon is leaving for the wall. Robb, Bran, Rickon, and Theon are staying here at Winterfell. And me? I'm off to go cause some trouble."

Everything Joe said had been per what the Stark children had talked about this past month and a half. All except for one discrepancy.

"Hold on," Robb said, sitting in the lordly chair in Winterfell's Great Hall and befitting the visage of a reliable young man, "I thought Bran was going south with father and the girls?"

Bran rustled in his seat and gave Joe that 'you handle this' look, "Ahem..,"

Joe took his cue, "A change in plans. Bran has decided to stay in Winterfell for the time being and serve at Robb's side, learning all he can."

['And away from Cersei trying anything stupid.']

Joe peered at Robb, "That is if you're okay with it."

"It's not that. It's just-"

"I thought you wanted to be a knight of the kingsguard." Arya said to Bran, "How does staying here help you with that?"

"Who cares? I'm happy Bran is staying with us!" Rickon began to cheer.

Sansa, ever the matriarch of this school of Wolves and Krakens and Shadowcat's, spoke to Bran with tender care, "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"…" Jon remained silent, darting eyes back and forth between Bran and Joe, a twin connection making his conspiracy-glands tingle with alertness.

'Joe, what are you hiding? You know I always find out eventually…'

That's when Bran took the reigns, "After watching Joe's anointment, I realized there are many paths you can take to reach your goal. There is no rush for me to go to Kings Landing. I want to stay here with mother and the rest for a while longer. Forge my path through the snow, just as Joe did. And besides..,"

"I want to climb the walls some more."

Theon, ever the Ironborn, had to admire the gall of the young lord, knowing what he wants and how he wanted to achieve it, "Well said!"

Jon understood and was happy for his little half-brother, "Now you can come to visit me at *the* Wall much sooner than expected. Maybe we could climb it together? Hahaha"

Joe snickered, ['Be careful what you wish for..']

Arya's reaction was less encouraging. She was losing her sparing partner and rival, after all.

Better at the bow and saddle, Arya bested Bran in many sporting competitions as they trained in Joe's presence, hoping to impress him. It was only the sword that Bran consistently bested Arya at.

But her brothers agreed that Arya didn't lose the sword due to a lack of skill. Bran's boyish physicality would always make up for the differences in natural talent when push came to shove. Their spars reminded Arya that she must remain vigilant and use her speed more accordingly.

Arya was just better— a rare gemstone in the snow. But Bran had the potential. Everyone could feel his charming spirit and tenacity. He may be dull ol' stone now, but what's that bullshit they say about pressure making dye out of almonds?

"But why? I thought you wanted to come see the capital with father and me!" Arya pestered.

"I still do," Bran placated, "It's okay. When I visit, you'll know all the places to go. You can show me when we go exploring together."

Joe snapped his fingers to get everyone's attention, "Anyway, enough about all that. I called us all together to get some things off my chest."

"Are you trying to persuade us to come with you again?" Jon questioned.

"Ah, haha." Robb smirked, "Your big plan."

Joe hated how his siblings got like this, "Why not? I know we could do it if we were all together."

"I have responsibilities. When Father passes, I'll be Lord of Winterfell. I can't just abandon the north." Robb said.

Joe scoffed, "You'll probably die. An amazing warrior and leader, but a trash diplomat."

A part of Jon wanted to go, deep down..

No doubt whether or not he joined Joe on his journeys would be the biggest 'what if?' in Jon's life. But he, too, was going to forge his own path. "I'm off to swear my vows."

"Sigh.." Joe felt the pain in his heart. He knew his twin's fate if Jon joined the Night's Watch.., "And get murdered by some r**ist who's supposed to be your sworn brother, no doubt."

Sansa raised her chin with a form of noble dignity, "I'm going to marry Prince Joffrey and become the Queen."

Joe regarded Sansa with neutrality, "Prince Joffrey is a sadistic cunt. You're better off marrying Robin Arryn. 'Lady of the Vale'.., now that has a pretty prominent ring to it."

Arya pouted her lips, "I don't care for all those things. I just want to stay with father."

Joe could only smile at her and hide his deflated heart, "You really should stay here."

"No! I'm going. What would father do with just *Sansa* as company.."

"Hey!"

Joe intervened before we had another classic Sansa vs Arya confrontation, "I thought you might say that. You're not the only one who fears that father might feel lonely away from home. That's why Vera is coming with you guys. She always brings the good vibes."

Arya raised a brow, "Lady and Nymeria are entertainment enough."

"Yes, but they won't be as well received walking around the Red Keep as, say, a bloodhound would. Vera is a dangerous beast, but she's still a dog at the end of the day. I'd imagine she'll be able to bypass any political crap about her not being allowed in court. Though I do fear for her nose.. Kings Landing is not exactly celebrated for its aromatics."

"And what are you going to do, *Nix*?"

The way Theon said it had that slight hint of a snicker. That kind of tease you would expect from someone you grew up with. But Joe knew Theon meant well.

"I'm heading up to the Wall to see Jon off to his new life. I can use the journey north to convince him to reconsider taking the black and come with me. Afterwards, it's off to new horizons."

Rickon had to try it one last time.., "Come on, Joe! Can you pleaseeee tell us what you're gonna do already?"

"Nope! You poo bums don't want to come with me. So I'm not going to share classified information!"

"Tell ussss," Bran tried to plea.

"Train hard enough so you can join me, and I'll tell you everything," Joe assured.

Arya sensed the hour was drawing near. If these were some final moments she could spend with her brother, why not cut to the chase? "That's so unfair. You know what we're all doing. Why are you the only one who's kept us all in the dark?"

Sansa agreed, "It would make it much easier for us to decide to come with you if we knew what you were doing." Her soft voice added.

Joe scratched his head awkwardly, "That's… complicated. It's hard to explain, but I feel a very important journey has been written for each of you. I'm an anomaly to all this. So I've decided to do my own thing and pray to fuck that maybe something has been written for me also."

"What are you talking about? Your story has already begun." Said Arya.

Joe got taken by surprise, "Huh?"

"She's right," Jon assured alongside her, "You're the Hound Whisperer of Winterfell. The one who defeated Ser Jaime Lannister in single combat and won yourself a knighthood."

Robb laughed, "The Harbinger of Winter, Old Nan's been calling you. She's convinced that gathering of white ravens was a sign of the change in seasons."

Joe wanted to laugh alongside him. Now that he thought about it, Joe would miss Old Nan. But something sinister was holding him back from enjoying the moment.

"She knows better than that. The true Harbinger is north of the wall."

Part of Joe felt happy that all these characters he knew and loved believed in him. But another part of him felt sick. Each of the Stark children went through rough times once they separated. Joe didn't mind having to deal with people. It was fate and causality that scared him.

But he didn't want to think about that now. Joe sighed, "Anyway, I wanted to give you all one of these."

Joe ruffled through the inner pocket of his cloak and held out seven necklaces with Weirwood medallions no bigger than coins.

"Take it. They are a symbol that you all are part of House Nix."

Arya was the first to grab the necklaces. She inspected one side, Void the Shadowcat, winking away.

"Pass them around until you find yours. I carved each of your direwolves onto the personal side of your coins. Look, here." Joe said, passing one of the necklaces to Rickon, "See that one? That stupid grin and dark fur is none other than Shaggydog."

Theon was incredibly flattered by the gesture, but an apprehensiveness ate away at him. An identity crisis started to creep into his psyche. "What about me?" He asked anxiously.

"Here."

Theon took the necklace from Joe's hand and inspected the personal side of his Weirwood medallion.

Engraved onto it was a childish illustration of a Kraken/squid/octopus creature wrapping its tentacles over a naked woman's body. It was the kind of dumb shit you would see in a 12vie sketchbook after getting obsessed with tentacle porn.

"Hahaha!" Theon burst into laughter, "Not bad, Nix. Thanks."

Joe talked his shit, "Thought you might like it. I feel like I really nailed the look of pleasure on her face. Might be my finest work yet."

Sansa couldn't contain her excitement, "Joe, don't you think it's time to unveil *those*..?"

"Those? Oh, right! I almost forgot!"

That's when Sansa reached under the table and brought them out.

With just one look, Robb was impressed. "Wow, they look just like the one father wears!"

"Mmhmm." Joe said, holding a fur cloak up for everyone to see, "I supplied the pelts. Sansa did the tailor work. Seems only fitting that we all depart in style.

Jons's cloak was fashioned from a black bear, following the Night's Watch dark dress code. Sansa's had the red of a blood fox. Rickon, the black of a wolf. Robb, Bran and Arya's cloaks were grey.

"What about me?" asked Theon, his hands as empty as his rejected heart.

"What about you?" Joe sternly replied.

"…"

But the layer of tears building in Theon's eyes managed to break him.

"Haha, just kidding." Joe said, reaching under the table for the final cloak, "Here you are, Theon. Just take my advice and don't wear it when you meet your father again."

Theon's was made with the striped pelt of a Shadowcat. As much as Theon felt relieved to be included in the family dress up, he was scared of what Void might think…

And so it was. The children of Winterfell enjoyed their last night spent together by raiding the kitchen and sharing laughs about stories of growing up in the castle.

With House Nix quadrupling in size.

***

The fated morning came.

Tyrion Lannister waddled into a dining room where his family were breaking their fast, dripping with water and smelling of dog.

"Bread," Tyrion commanded, "And two of those little fish. And a mug of dark beer to wash it down. And bacon, burned black."

Tyrion let out a "Hrah!" as he picked Tommen up and moved him to the seat across the table, uncle and nephew sharing a playful laugh.

Ser Jaime gave him that glorious prince charming smile, "Little brother."

Tyrion took his seat, "Beloved siblings."

Queen Cersei sat across the table like the monarch she was, inspecting Tyrion with judgmental eyes.

"Is Bran not coming with us?" Princess Myrcella asked with a soft and well-spoken sadness.

"Apparently not," Tyrion replied.

The Queen didn't expect that, but decades spent in the royal court had done well at training her poker face, "What do you mean?"

Tyrion was about to take a sip of his beer when he answered, "His brother informs me that young Bran has had a change of heart. He shall remain in the north for the foreseeable future."

Queen Cercei pretended not to care, as if this was a fleeting detail, "That's a shame. I hear he wanted to become a knight. And he gets along so well with Tommen and Myrcella."

"Yes, well." Said Tyrion, giving his brother a sly glance. "There are many ways to skin a cat. Recent events have taught me that."

Queen Cersei didn't want to entertain the topic. She scoffed, "A bastard boy who thinks he can name himself."

Tyrion enjoyed watching Cersei's face deform as she thought about the bastard boy who could have killed her lover if he so chose, "The charm of the north seems entirely lost on you."

"I still can't believe you're going. It's ridiculous even for you."

"Where's your sense of wonder? The greatest structure ever built, the intrepid men of the Night's Watch, the wintry abode of the White Walkers!"

Ser Jaime had to set the record straight, "Tell me you're not thinking about taking the black."

"And go celibate? The whores would go begging from Dorne to Casterly Rock. No, I just want to stand on top of the wall and piss off the edge of the world."

This caused Tommen to giggle.

"The children don't need to hear your filth." Queen Cersei said bitterly.

The smile exchange between Tyrion and his niece and nephew further fueled Queen Cersei's resentment toward her dwarf brother (if that were even possible).

"Come." She ordered, standing up and leaving the room. Tommen and Myrcella did as they were told and followed their mother.

"I think it's good that the boy is staying," Ser Jaime said once his lover left the room, "Bran, I mean."

Tyrion nibbled at his food, "Such an interest in Stark children, dear brother. Does your recent loss haunt you so?"

"If you're referring to Joe, I've actually taken quite a liking to the young lad."

"Our sister doesn't appear to share your sentiment. Pray, tell. What was the true reason behind your duel?"

Ser Jaime rubbed his neck as casual as he could, "A testing of mettle."

Tyrion could smell the bullshit, "I'm hurt you won't tell me. Family shouldn't keep secrets from each other, don't you agree? Cersei's affliction toward Joe and your policy of silence speaks louder than any nonsense you've told me this past fortnight."

Ser Jaime sighed, "Dear brother, there are times you make me wonder whose side you're on."

"My dear brother, you wound me. You know how much I love my family."

***

The bellows were puffing air into the flame of the blacksmith fire pit.

Jon and Joe watched as Mikken polished a skinny blade. It looked a rapier, perfect for poking holes into your enemy, not so much for hacking and slashing.

Joe couldn't contain the question, "Soo, what do you think?" he asked his brother, "I helped with the finish. Look, see? My maker's mark."

Joe's blacksmith maker mark was a J. The font was fancy and loopy, making the J look like the number 9, depending on the angle you looked at. On one side of the blade was Mikken's mark, and on the other was Joe's 9.

Jon took hold of the sleek blade and was immediately impressed by the balance of the weight, "It's perfect."

"Haha, Arya's reaction is going to be so adorable."

That's when Ser Jaime spotted the bastard twins and approached.

Joe regarded Ser Jaime with an agreeable smile, "Ah, Ser Jaime!" he said, the two knights exchanging that manly soldier handshake they do when you grip at the underside of each other's forearm.

"Ser Joe." He greeted, and giving Jon an acknowledging glance, "A sword for the wall?"

Jon still wasn't used to Joe and Ser Jaime being so cordial. He never imagined *enjoying* a Lannister's company. But given Jon's experiences with Tyrion, and Joe's newfound relationship with Ser Jaime, maybe it was time to expand his thinking.

"I already have one," Jon said, subconsciously straightening his posture before the famed knight of the seven kingdoms.

"Good man. Have you swung it yet?"

Jon was too simple and good-natured to verbally spar with Ser Jaime. His reply was straightforward, "Of course I have."

"At *someone*, I mean."

Jon stared at Jaime like a fish out of water. The kingslayer tilted his head with that princely smile, enjoying how uncomfortable the silence made Jon feel.

Joe had to back his brother up, "Oh, ease up, will you? People find it hard to know when you're joking."

"Don't worry about him," Joe told his brother, "Ser Jaime was like us once. Young and full of hope, who prized the honor and chivalry of the heroes we know from the songs. But after watching the mad king burn many people alive, his rose-colored vision turned grey as ash."

Joe paused to take in how Ser Jaime tried to shake off the memory desperately, "So you'll have to forgive him. The magic of knights in shining armor rescuing princesses from guarded tower's was lost to Ser Jaime long ago. He finds pleasure in crushing the spirits of young ones like us. Perhaps he wants to save us from the harsh disappointment he had to endure."

Hearing this, Jaime was disarmed. He usually equipped himself with the asshole persona as a defense mechanism against the years of scrutiny following the unfortunate moniker of 'Kingslayer' being bestowed upon him. But hearing Joe talk of his troubles like he has access inside his thoughts made Ser Jaime throw away the facade.

"Forgive me," Said Ser Jaime, now speaking to Jon with the warmth expected of a cordial and respectful conversation, "It's a strange thing, the first time you cut a man. You realize we're nothing but sacks of meat, blood, and some bone to keep it all standing."

As much as Ser Jaime wanted to sarcastically thank Jon for his services, discrediting his dreams and trying his utmost to crush the romantic ideals of chivalry and duty, he couldn't. His time spent with Joe had developed into a friendship.

He may not necessarily believe in grumpkins and snarks, but he wasn't going to outright disagree with Joe's beliefs and clown on his twin brother. "Let me thank you ahead of time," he said, motioning for a handshake, "guarding us from all the perils beyond the wall. Wildlings and White Walkers and whatnot."

Joe couldn't resist the low-hanging fruit, "Ah, yes. And thank you for guarding your king so diligently while he eats and shits and fucks."

The trio shared a laugh after that.

***

The day was bittersweet. On the one hand, many in Lord Starks personal retinue were excited for the new adventure of Kings Landing. But on the other, they had to say goodbye to everyone they loved and the north they knew so intimately.

And so, the hour came. Jon was striding toward his horse, carrying his saddle on his shoulder, when Robb and Joe joined him at either side.

Robb looked at Jon, "You've said goodbye to everyone?"

"I did."

"Good."

Robb and Joe stopped to intake Winterfell together. The last time before Jon would take his vows.

"Next time I see you, you'll be all in black," Robb said.

Jon gave his brother a cheeky smirk, "It was always my color."

Joe scoffed at this, "I used to think that until I saw how white your bare ass is. Now the image is forever scarred in memory."

"Haha, I remember that," Robb recalled with a chuckle, "You went around the castle screaming 'MY EYES! MY EYES!'"

The three brothers shared one last laugh. It was difficult to judge when they would be together again like this. They each simmered in the heavy silence of farewell.

Robb said his last goodbye, "Farewell, Snow."

"And you, Stark."

Joe felt like a third wheel as he watched the two hug it out.

"Welp," Joe began as he bumped a fist into Robb's chest, "I suppose I'll see you after I return from the Wall."

Robb replied with a bumped fist of his own, "Until then. Try not to freeze your cock off."

"No need to worry. I have neglected my manscaping duties these past months. My dick is well and truly insulated." Joe said, patting his hand at his crotch.

Robb had no idea if Joe was joking. There was usually a method to Joe's madness, but this was just ridiculous. "Uh.., good. Very good. Safe travels, brother."

With that, Robb turned and strode with purpose. Each step taking him further away from the painful sayonara he had shared with Jon. And from Joe's nonsense, further still.

Jon's life flashed before his eyes as he watched Robb's ever-strengthening back shrink. He had yet to take his vows. It was not too late to change his mind. Jon could serve at Robb's side, or go with his twin brother, or anything, really.

Anything but the black.

You can spend much of your life hyping up to something. But when that goal is within reach, it's incredible how a voice can emerge— the whispers of last-minute resistance.

The anticipation could be tasted in the air as the time of departure drew near.

"Guess this is it," Joe said to his sisters as he scratched his mop of dark curls, "I don't mean to put a hex on it, but it's probably going to be a shitty time for you guys. Take care of father and each other, okay?"

Arya quickly buried her face in Joe's torso as she hugged him tightly.

Sansa had heard Joe's nagging so much that she now regarded it with jest, "Don't start with that again. You just make sure you don't get killed doing something *stupid*."

"I'll try my best to die intelligently." Joked the bastard half-brother, "Farewell, sisters."

That's when horns were blown, and commands were shouted, "Move out!"

Gone went the king's convoy.

Leaving Winterfell behind.

***

Not too far outside of Winterfell, the king's road comes to a junction.

One way went north to the wall. The other followed down the continent toward Kings Landing.

Tyrion rode ahead alongside two Lannister guards.

Will, the deserter from earlier that Joe saved from being executed, followed on foot.

Uncle Benjen glanced over his shoulder to see Jon and Lord Stark sitting atop their horses by the junction. After a knowing look that lingered for a while, Uncle Benjen turned with a gallop down the road.

"There's great honor serving in the Night's Watch. The Starks have manned the Wall for thousands of years."

Lord Stark then pierced his bastard son with those pure eyes of honor, "And you *are* a Stark, you and Joe both. You might have my name, but you have my blood."

Jon took the opportunity to ask the questions he'd been harboring all his life, "Is my mother alive?"

"…" Lord Stark dry swallowed.

"Does she know about us? Where we are, where we're going? Does she care?"

Lord Stark didn't allow his haunting memories to surface. "The next time we see each other, we'll talk about your mother. Huh? I promise."

Jon's mouth was agape. He had not the words to answer, but Lord Stark knew the reply all the same.

Lord Stark took the cue to leave.

Leaving Jon's mind clustered with even more questions.

Meanwhile, Joe was having a goodbye of a different kind.

"I'm going to miss you, my lady."

Meera Reed puckered her lips. She knew those words to be true. "Talking like that ill suits you."

"Like what?" Joe happily asked. He had grown fond of Meera's creativity when roasting him.

"Like a lord."

"Manners and lordliness aren't exactly synonymous."

"Neither are fooking and making love."

Joe picked this as a perfect time to tease, "And which one were you doing?"

"Ahem.." Jojen Reed stirred on his horse, "We should get going. They're leaving us behind."

Not the words she wanted to hear. "When will I see you again?"

"Whenever you want," Joe said, trotting away,

"All you have to do is close your eyes."

***

Nightfall was fast approaching as the party made camp in the Wolfswood.

Ghost and Void were lying on the grass beside each other when their ears perked up to the sound of Uncle Benjen manhandling a pair of men whose arms were bound.

"Sit." Uncle Benjen ordered, as one of his black brothers shoved one of the fugitives, "You'll be fed."

Joe was sharpening his blade, pretending not to notice Jon's troubled expression.

But after seeing Jon's face, Tyrion couldn't resist~

"Ah, r**ers. They were given a choice no doubt— castration or the Wall. Most choose the knife."

"Most stupid enough to get caught," Joe added.

Tyrion peered at Jon and tried his best to hide the pleasure he took in pulling Jon's leg. Jon wore his emotions and thoughts on his sleeve. It almost made it too easy to mess with him.

"Not impressed with your new brothers? Lovely thing about the Watch— You discard your old family and get a whole new one."

Joe tried his best to quell his brother's apprehension, sensing Jon's discomfort, "It's kind of cool. Minus the whole celibate thing. Worry not, though, Jon. You can always come with me~"

Jon sighed silently as he watched Uncle Benjen sitting against a tree, a great man who took the black willingly.

Joe smiled as he saw Jon put the cogs in motion. He could almost hear what his twin was thinking, 'All right. Enough fooking brooding!'

Jon changed the subject, "Why do you read so much?"

Tyrion continued reading, "Look at me and tell me what you see."

"A cunt." Said Joe in jest.

"Is this a trick?" asked Joe. He was never one for the riddles of wordplay.

"What you see is a dwarf. If I'd been born a peasant they might have left me out to die in the woods. Alas, I was born a Lannister of Casterly Rock. Things are expected of me. My father was the Hand of the King for 20 years."

"Until your brother killed that king." Interrupted Jon.

"Yes, until my brother killed him."

Joe riled with a half-hearted clap, "Here here. Good riddance."

"Life is full of these little ironies. My sister married the new king and my repulsive nephew will be king after him. I must do my part for the honor of my house, wouldn't you agree?"

Joe couldn't let that one slide, "The *honor* of your house? And how would you contribute to that? Not like how your father did, I hope. Ordering the sack of Kings Landing and for the ra** of Elia Martell and whatnot."

Tyrion almost felt sick as he pushed aside the haunting memories of his teenage years.

'I loved a maid as red as autumn, with sunset in her hair.'

"No, of course not. So it begs the question. How do I help? Well, my brother has his sword, and I have my mind. And a mind needs books like a sword needs a whetstone. That's why I read so much Jon Snow."

Joe gazed idly into the darkening Wolfswood, "I dream of a future with true warriors who require no sword. Where the mind is used for pursuing art and advancing humanity."

"I do admire your wishful thinking, Ser Joe." Said Tyrion, before redirecting his attention to Jon, "And you? What's *your* story, bastard?"

"Ask nicely and maybe I'll tell you dwarf."

The delivery was even more perfect than Joe remembered, "Got 'em!"

Tyrion smiled. He had to give it to Jon. It was nice to see the boy loosen up a bit. "A bastard boy with nothing to inherit, off to join the ancient order of the Night's Watch, alongside his *valiant* brothers-in-arms."

"The Night's Watch protects the realm-"

"Ah, yes. From grumpkins and snarks and all the other monsters your wet nurse warned you about. You're a smart boy. You don't believe all that nonsense."

At these words, Joe stopped his sword sharpening and stood seriously, bringing his face close to Tyrion and staring into his Lannister eyes, "I've seen them, Tyrion. How do you think I trounced your brother? Training in preparation for war in the Dornish marches?"

Tyrion was taken aback by the sudden invasion of his personal space. He darted back and forth between Joe's amber eyes. "Hmm. Well..,"

His reaction was to be expected when faced with such a terrifying possibility.

Denial. Denial shall see Tyrion through this trip until he returns home, hundreds of leagues south of the wall and anything that lurks beyond.

"Everything's better with some wine in the belly." He said, with a motion of the wineskin to Joe.

Joe couldn't agree more. He, his brother, and Tyrion sat together, passing the wineskin between them.

Each sip making everything a little bit better.

***

Their travels soon found them become drenched in the shadow of the Northern Mountains come the late afternoon.

Joe could see someone riding down the road toward them.

"There you fookin' are." Sensei greeted his young friend, "Took your time."

Joe had to hide his smile. He wasn't going to give this grumpy bastard the satisfaction. "Apologies, Lord Tyrion can't ride as fast. His ass is still healing."

Tyrion dismissed the implication, "Funny. I don't seem to recall *me* being the one who stopped us so he could go bird watching."

"That's low, Tyrion", Joe sounded disappointed, "I thought I saw a blue eagle owl. They haven't been sighted in a century, man. What was I supposed to do?"

"Are you serious?!" Sensei asked with urgency. This was too good an opportunity to pass up, "Where?!"

"Half a league That-a-way. But don't get any ideas, Sensei. We're heading in the opposite direction!"

"Tch…"

Sensei sat on top of a brown horse with white blots at each hoof. Its mane was long and looked surprisingly clean. What kind of shampoo were these Westerosi horses using?

Being toed along was another white horse with sprinkles of black poker dots.

"Wow." Joe marveled as he dismounted and strapped his saddle onto the new horse, "She's more majestic than I ever imagined."

"Mmm," agreed Sensei, "The steppe horses of the Northern Mountains are a reliable breed. These two are siblings. They're young, so I hope you're ready for some growing pains."

"No complaints here. So how does it feel, Sensei? To be on horseback again."

"My fookin' legs are killing me."

"Hahaha," Master and student shared a laugh before Joe snapped his fingers and pointed at the returning Night's Watch deserter, "Will, you can take that horse now. My gift to the Watch."

"What will you name her?" Sensei said, watching Joe brush his hand along the neck of his new steed.

Joe took note of the horse's white color speckled with black, and a particular ice cream flavor came to mind.

"Cookie. I quite like the sound of that."

Uncle Benjen grew restless with the idle dilly dally, "Can we get a move on? We're wasting daylight."

"Come on, uncle. You boys up at the Watch don't get off on a good naming ceremony?"

Tyrion had done some depraved shit in his day, but he could imagine, "Only the gods know what those boys get off to.."

Uncle Benjen wasn't having it. He was the first ranger. Some of his brothers in black were around, as well as some fugitives. "Move." He ordered, leaving no room for argument and keeping his authority intact.

Jon, Tyrion, Sensei, and Joe rode alongside each other, catching up on what each was up to over the past month.

Filling their bellies with wine.

***

Darkness closed on Winterfell as direwolves and dogs alike howled to the sky.

It had become a noisy affair around the castle since the day the direwolves were brought home. Lady and Nymeria may have been gone, but that only made their siblings even louder as if to pick up the slack they left behind.

They were sad howls, the kind only wailed by a pack now separated.

Bran was in his chambers, sitting on his bed and reading a book about the great knights recorded in history.

Lady Catelyn had come in and dismissed Old Nan, opting to sit with Bran herself while she weaved a basket.

She took the opportunity to spend time with Bran while he stayed in one place, not running about swinging a sword or climbing the walls.

The pleasant surprise of Bran opting to stay at home had yet to lose its novelty. 'My darling boy,' she thought as she admired his handsome young face, 'I'm so happy you stayed.'

In entered Robb. He was proudly wearing his newly crafted grey cloak fashioned in the style of Lord Stark's. Sansa had truly outdone herself this time. "There you two are. Gage says that supper should be ready soon."

Yet no matter how many things she still had, Lady Catelyn couldn't help but think about the things she had lost.

"You miss father already?" Robb asked after kissing his mother on the forehead.

"And the girls. I wish the Gods didn't have to separate us like this." Lady Catelyn's tearful voice shakily mustered.

Robb smiled at her with a maturity far too advanced for a young man his age, "You and me both, mother. But it's done now. Let's remain strong until we see them again."

Robb had a bright glimmer in his eyes as he left Bran's chambers.

Wait.., a glimmer?"

Robb gave a disbelieving stare out the window, "Fire." He said, making haste out the room, "You stay here. I'll come back."

Lady Catelyn could hear the castle folk clamoring down below. The barking intensified in concert with the ring ding ding of the bells.

It was confirmed true when Lady Catelyn and Bran looked out the window. A flame could be spied through the cracks of a distant tower.

Followed by a weird instinct that someone was behind them.

"You're not supposed to be here." A catspaw assassin who was now in the room said, staring at Lady Catelyn, "No one is supposed to be here."

"It's a mercy," he said with wickedness toward Bran, "He's dead already."

*Shing!*

Hearing those words, seeing the dagger, the fire and the catspaw assassin. Lady Catelyn's motherly brain processed the information instantly.

"No!" Lady Catelyn came at the catspaw with a stopping hand.

The catspaw got to business. With a parry of Lady Catelyn's feeble attempt to grab him, he struck her with a masculine bitch slap.

Lady Catelyn fell onto the bed. She had not a moment to rest. The catspaw grabbed her by the hair and made at slitting her throat.

"Arghh!" Lady Catelyn used her hands to block the blade, its razor edge melting through her flesh.

Bran watched, his body cold to the touch. His blood needed to pump with courage. A knight protects the weak and innocent!

He didn't even think about it, his body on autopilot. Bran quickly reached for the dagger he kept under his pillow and plunged it into the catspaw's side. It was the kind of liver shot that would have made any martial artist proud.

"Urhh!" The catspaw collapsed, blood pissing out between his fingers as he failed to block the breach.

*GRRRR!*

That's when Summer came bursting into the chambers. Summer began savagely biting at the catspaw's throat as if he needed to make up for not being here to protect Bran.

The blood had stained the fur around Summer's mouth red as the direwolf then jumped onto the bed, satisfied with his job.

What followed was silence.

Broken by Bran and Lady Catelyn's heavy breathing.

And the gurgling of a man choking on his own blood.

***

Tyrion and the bastard twins would never forget the first time they laid eyes on the Wall.

There it stood, 700 feet (213m) tall, a hunk of a thing, with ice so dense it looked like stone. Even from a distance, the party could hear the lisping streaks of the wind pass over its summit.

Uncle Benjen enjoyed watching everyone's reactions.

Jon's face was like a child's when Santa gave them coal for Christmas.

Tyrion grinned in awe. Say what you will, but he had that gorgeous Lannister smile.

Joe capitulated. This wall was indeed a wonder of engineering. Well worth the trip.

"Huh. The barrenness is oddly calming. I almost want to say it's beautiful." He said, nudging Sensei at the elbow, "Thoughts?"

"It looks like a fookin' monstrosity."

Joe purposely ignored Sensei's hatred for structures. They reminded Sensei of the squabbling existence of living in the 'civilization' of cities. "I wouldn't go that far. A little bit of TLC and we could get this place looking nice. Hey Tyrion,"

"Hmm?"

Joe pointed along the upper third of the wall, "I reckon we could build some kickass apartments up there. Imagine the view. Nobles from all around would totally travel to the Wall if there were some comfortable accommodations. Rooms with balconies overlooking the lands that stretch beyond the wall. Whores and feathery beds. You could even do guided tours, hunting, all that poser crapola."

Tyrion had to laugh. The idea sounded more and more appealing as Joe went on. "We should petition the lord commander immediately."

***

Lady Catelyn had been plagued with poor sleep since the catspaw's attempt on Bran's life.

So she wandered the castle, her bandaged hands throbbing with the pain of mystery.

It didn't make any sense to Lady Catelyn. Why would someone try to kill Bran?

She tried to ask him, but Bran was strangely aloof about the whole thing.

"I don't know," he shrugged to her, "Maybe he made a mistake?"

It didn't sit right with Lady Catelyn. Bran looked down to his feet when he said that. He always looked down at his feet when he lied to her.

So she prayed to the Old Gods and the New. Walking endlessly, hoping for her calls to be answered.

It came in her sleep. She could hardly tell what was wake or what was dream anymore. A crow with three eyes, cawing and leading her through the castle. They eventually found themselves at the top of the Broken Tower.

Lady Catelyn sleepwalked to the window and looked below at that terrifying drop. What was the meaning of this?

*Caw!*

A sudden rummage behind her. A phantom hand pushing her back. Down Lady Catelyn went.

A deathly descent.

"Ugh!"

Lady Catelyn woke in her chambers, her body covered in sweat, a bed much too spacious for one person alone.

"Huff… huff.."

Lady Catelyn cupped her face in her hands, the strands of her hair falling in fizzy tatters like a witch whose been zapped.

"The tower."

Considering she hadn't eaten much these past days, it was surprising she had the energy. Lady Catelyn got out of bed like she woke up 5 minutes before the start of school. A quick wrapping of robes and a splash of water on the face, and it was go time.

She made for the Broken Tower with haste. The cold air had no effect on her body which was now blazing with purpose.

'What in hells could be up here?'

The weight of the old wooden door made way to painstaking creak noises as she slowly opened it. The light from Lady Catelyn's torch beamed through the cracks.

The top room of the Broken Tower was a dull and abandoned place. Were it not for the dream it would have remained forgotten to Lady Catelyn.

But now she was here. She retraced the steps of her dream. Feeling the rough tough of the tower's stone, she peeped down through that damned window once more.

What did it mean? Her intuition told her that the three-eyed crow was showing her something. She looked around. There had to be a clue. Something. Anything.

Then she struck gold. But not the shiny metal you'd typically think of. This came in the form of a single strand of long golden hair.

There was only one woman to whom this hair could belong.

Lady Catelyn paced down the tower's steps. No. Surely her suspicions weren't warranted. This had to be paranoia.

Outside, at the bottom of the Broken Tower, Lady Catelyn came out and noticed wheel tracks. A wagon of some sort had been carted here with haste. The skid marks were still indented into the earth.

"Gods!"

She covered her mouth in horror. Something happened that made people want to kill Bran. Could her hunch about the Lannisters being involved be correct? Why did Ser Jaime and Joe duel? Bran was right there, squiring for Joe through it all. Right in the center of the action.

There was only one way to find out.

A good old-fashioned family meeting.

***

"What I am about to tell you must remain between us."

Lady Catelyn stood at the top of a small mound in the Godswood, the heart tree behind her in all its glory.

"I have reason to believe that the assassin sent to kill Bran has something to do with the Lannisters."

Robb and Theon remained serious. Bran winced and looked around, pretending not to be engaged.

Master Luwin and Ser Rodrik exchanged a queer glance.

"And why do you say that my lady?" the master-at-arms asked.

"This."

Lady Catelyn pulled out the strand of golden hair.

"A dream lead me to find this. You all know how Bran likes to climb. I'm thinking that he saw something he wasn't supposed to during one of his climbs. And the Lannisters tried to silence him."

"All this from a dream, my lady?" Maester Luwin inquired. Someone had to apply the scientific model to an investigation. It was his duty as a Maester of a high lordship's castle.

"I know. I know it sounds crazy. But why not? We already have reason to suspect their loyalty to the crown."

Everyone gave a subtle nod. Winterfell's inner circle knew about Lysa's letter detailing how the Lannisters murdered Jon Arryn.

Ser Rodrik twiddled with the murder weapon, "Did you notice the dagger the killer used? It's too fine a weapon for such a man."

*Shing!*

"The blade is Valyrian steel, the handle dragonbone. Someone *gave* it to him."

Robb couldn't believe the audacity of it, "They come into our home and try to murder my brother? If it's war they want—"

"If it comes to that, you know I'll stand behind you."

Maester Luwin was quick to end this reckless peacock display by the young lords, "What, is there going to be a battle in the Godswood? Huh?"

He continued, "Too easily words of war become acts of war. We don't know the truth yet."

Theon liked to approach things in a simple yet effective way, "Why don't we ask the big man himself?"

Robb raised a brow. He and Theon knew Bran enough to realize he was acting strange. "Yes, what happened, Bran? You can tell us.

"N-.. Nothing. I don't even understand how I'm involved. It was Joe who trifled with the Lannisters—"

"And then they tried to kill you, Bran." Lady Catelyn's motherly tone tried to reason with the child, "Please, just tell us what happened."

Bran let out his frustration, "Why are you thinking I'm hiding something?!"

An awkward silence. They had pushed him too far. It was time to reel it back.

"Lord Stark must be told of this." Maester Luwin tactfully changed the subject.

Lady Catelyn shook her head, "I don't trust a raven to carry these words."

"I'll ride to Kings Landing." Robb quickly insisted.

"No. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. I will go myself."

"Mother, you can't."

"I must."

Ser Rodrik piped up, "I'll send Hal with a squad of guardsmen to escort you."

"Too large a party attracts unwanted attention. I don't want the Lannisters to know I'm coming."

"Let me accompany you at least," Winterfell's man-at-arms pleaded, "The king's road can be a dangerous place for a woman alone."

It took an insisting nod from Maester Luwin to make Lady Catelyn agree.

"Well, what about the dagger?" Robb asked, "Joe asked for it if it ever happened to come into our possession."

Lady Catelyn recoiled in disgust, "What? Why would Joe ask for the murder weapon sent against his own brother?!"

Robb dismissed the accusation, "He said you might say something like that. He just wants it for his travels. Valyrian steel is hard to come by."

Lady Catelyn's blood began to boil, "Oh, is that right? No. I'm taking this with me when I personally deliver our message to Ned."

Robb didn't like his mother sending herself on such a dangerous mission, "But what about Bran and Rickon? You can't just leave them here."

"I'll be back soon, don't you worry. I must deliver this message to your father."

Through this all, Bran felt conflicted. Should he just tell everyone the truth behind what happened? That Joe somehow knew Bran would fall from that tower and orchestrated the whole sequence of events to get his duel vs Jaime Lannister?

No. Bran trusted his brother Joe. He also knew that Joe would accept his judgment, no matter his decision. There was no pressure in waiting. And if he had to spill the truth, he trusted that Joe wouldn't resent him for it.

Lady Catelyn and Ser Rodrik rode out from Winterfell come daylight the following morn.

With words not even dark wings could be tasked with.

***

"I probably shouldn't have any more. Father only lets us have one cup at feasts."

Prince Joffrey and Sansa strolled alongside the river. The sun had a more orange hue than Sansa had experienced in the north. And the humidity? Well.., you get used to it after a while.

King Robert's party were in the Riverlands. In the general region of the Trident. Just yesterday, Arya went searching for Prince Rhaegar's rubies.

"My princess can drink as much as she wants."

The way Prince Joffrey looked at her with that handsome face made Sansa quiver at the knees.

'He *is* to be king, after all. I should at least pretend to sip the wine. I don't want him to think I'm no fun.'

Sansa took a faint sip at first. Then a genuine second sip. Joffrey seemed to like this. He squinted his eyes like he was looking at a juicy piece of meat.

It might have been a moment between the two, a romantic time capsule they could look back on as King and Queen. But alas, the sound of sticks clacking whacked them out of the moment.

Prince Joffrey was no stranger to the sound of people sparring. But if you weren't knowledgeable, you might have interpreted the sounds of panting and wood colliding to be quite violent and severe.

"Don't worry,"

They advanced past the shade of a tree to find a tubby boy, no older than 13, with hair as ginger as Garfield's butthole after eating carrot cake.

"I'll get you!" The Ginger decreed. But his opponent was too much for him. The girl, a scrawny little thing with brown hair, was too quick and skilled with her swordsmanship. She blocked the poorly executed combination from the chubby ginger kid and countered with a stellar crack to his head.

If she had the strength, this impact would have snapped her wooden sword upon impact. The perfect move. The chubby ginger kid fell to the ground with a

*OOF!*

Sansa squinted her eyes, "Arya!"

Arya was standing over the chubby ginger-haired boy, triumphant in her victory, when she was so rudely interrupted by her sister.

"What are you doing here?" Arya barked. The river hustled along endlessly, rustling and swishing. "Go away!"

Prince Joffrey gave Sansa an impressed grin, "Your sister?"

In truth, Sansa looked like an idiot, holding that wineskin. If the rest of her family were to see her right now, it would be a savage roasting. Joe would probably call her a fake. He always liked to rave about the perils of peer pressure.

But she didn't care. This was a lovely walk with her prince before Arya had to go and ruin it.

"He's the butcher's boy," Sansa explained.

"He's my friend." Arya asserted.

Prince Joffrey slithered closer to the butcher's boy like a posturing, pompous, puss-puss. "A butcher's boy who wants to be a knight, eh?"

*Shwcip_..*

Prince Joffrey drew his sword, "Pick up your sword, butcher's boy. Let's see how good you are."

"No."

Arya advanced, tapping her wooden sword against the ground. Yet even through its grassy softness, she made an intimidating *TAP!* *TAP!* *TAP*!

Making Prince Joffrey flinch at every thwack.

Arya stood defiant, the warm southern sun sending its golden rays into her brown eyes, causing a light effect that made them look like entrancing pools of amber and syrup.

"I'll be your opponent."