Chapter Text
The coldness of the Hall steadily increased its pace, creeping up towards his nose, making it extremely hard for him to stop twitching it. Robb was sure his nose was glowing red, and he didn’t like the thought of it. His sister, Joanna Snow, would have told him that he looked like a blushing, beautiful bard. He never liked that comparison. Who the hell would want to look like a bard, or beautiful for that matter?
He shifted on his legs, bringing back his interest to listen to what his uncle Benjen was droning on about the supply of horses needed for the Watch. He tried really, like focus only on the numbers that mattered, but his eyes fell faraway, wondering where his dear sisters would be now.
Not that the girls did anything important. Whatever they did was always mundane work or played useless games.
Like Sansa would sing a song as Jo played the harp. Or Sansa would stitch something as Jo carved her ice.
It was the least bit interesting.
Really! Like who would want to lie down on a snow-powder mattress Jo would conjure and hear Sansa sing when he could hear his uncle Benjen explaining about the headcount of thieves and wanderers being less in the Wall?
Although, a teeny bit of his heart missed that insane moment of calmness. Robb chided himself for being a fool.
He was twelve now, and soon he had to learn his duties to rule the North after his father. Not to play with his sisters, who giggled thinking about useless knights. Theon had once teased him, telling, “Better to wear a garb like your sisters, than to prepare for war.”
Robb liked Theon, alright. He did enjoy having a company who could speak for hours about phalanx formation on a battlefield, rather than worry with the girls if coloring their faded yellow gown into purpure purple would set in well on their dress. Yeah, the girls spoke odd words for colors as this, which made no sense to Robb. He named every blue to be blue.
Jo told Robb had perse blue eyes. He thought she was speaking funny. But she insisted there were different names for different blue, and so he had to believe. Although she told him one day that perse was greyish blue, and also it had more purple in it.
Which only aided in proving Robb’s theory that Jo was color blind. If anyone had purple and grey and blue mixed together for eyes, it would be Jo, for sure. He had ‘normal’ blue, and anything normal wasn’t in the ledgers of Jo.
Robb’s train of thought was interrupted when his uncle Benjen placed his arm on his shoulder.
“Lost in thoughts, Robb?”
Robb felt shameful for not listening to what the Stark brothers had been discussing. His cheeks went as red as his hair. “Sorry, uncle.”
“I heard you all got wolves for pets?”
Robb beamed, proud to show his little demon, Greywind, the fastest of all. It was still only a little bundle, a week old, and still ran after him wherever he went. Uncle Benjen gave a soft pat over the fur of the wolf, jealously estimating if the fur would suffice for his brothers at Wall to protect when winter came. Robb instantly snatched away his wolf-pup, not at all liking the idea of it.
His uncle laughed, rather sheepishly. “I should be going then. Three thieves added for the journey.”
“What do you mean by leaving now? Have you forgotten about the harvest feasts? You shall leave after that ends. The Cerwyns and the Manderlys and the Boltons are already on their way.” Ned Stark condemned his brother.
Robb could see his uncle’s demeanor changing at the prospect of the feast. It seemed his uncle was delighted at the idea of sumptuous food, rather than run back for the Wall. A moment’s notice later, Uncle Benjen appeared rattled. “It seems like a rather huge gathering, brother.”
“Aye!” His father conceded, lost in his forlorn thoughts. “The whispers have been going as long as Bear Islands. I need to make sure no one else raises any more questions. There is no other way, Benjen. Besides, I have been corresponding with Howland. He tells me, he is ready to take her in.”
“Ready to take who, father?” Robb was quite startled. His father frowned, as though he had forgotten on Robb’s existence. “It’s not Jo. Is it?”
“Robb! Isn’t it time for you to train in the courtyard?” Ned Stark asked in a cooler tone. “Get along. The Castellan will not like you coming late.”
“But, Father!” Robb protested.
None of his protests were heard by his father, and to his dismay, Robb found himself being unimportant in most of the critical discussions. He walked slowly, ignoring Greywind’s pleas to play with him. There was some instinct bugging him, and it felt like a heavyweight to think about what it meant of his father’s conversation.
“Robb!”
He turned to see Theon running across the courtyard.
“Where are your wits about?” Theon gleamed, his black eyes shining. “Come on. We shall play a fight with tourney swords.”
“Well…“ It was an enticing offer, but Robb had a much more important task. “Later, Greyjoy! I have to find my sister for now.”
“Sister? Which one? The Stark or The Freak?” The sixteen-year-old boy laughed for his own joke, bending over his knees.
“She isn’t a freak.” Robb defended, his knuckles going white clutching it tightly.
“Oh, yeah! Tell that to your tree Gods.” Theon muttered, glancing toward the Godswood. “Of course, she is there, by the cold lake, whining about some v-shaped tools getting rusted.”
Robb glanced at Theon—the black-haired boy, who, for all his disrespect towards his sister, had often known the details of her whereabouts every single minute. It made him feel angrier.
Without brawling with the seaweed boy, Robb marched towards the Godswoods, trying hard not to focus on the increased cold forming a thin sheet of mist around him.
The crusts of white frost crunched under his boots, and he walked generally towards the source of Jo’s sad, melodious voice drifting along the woods. Robb was used to this melancholy by now. Jo rarely sang because how much ever she tried, her songs brought tears to people who heard, and Jo would chide herself for making anyone cry. His little sister was prone to think crying to be wasting good moisture on a bad investment.
Yeah, she did speak things oddly, like that.
No, actually, she often did odd things than just to speak.
“Well, there they are! Arya Stark has replaced you as a knight for their game.”
Robb found Arya wearing a leather tunic and breeches, with a club replaced for a sword, reciting her dialogue as Florian the Fool, trying hard—very hard, to not be bothered by the sad song Jo was singing.
Well, of course, Robb had often pretended to be Florian the Fool, repeating the lines Jo and Sansa had managed to conjure, pretending to rescue them from real dangers like Ice Dragons and Ice Spiders, that Jo would make.
Now, to see that he was replaced… It really, really bothered him.
In one scoop, he launched on Arya and threw her around his shoulder, trying to make sounds like a mad dragon, all while getting mad punches to his jaw from the little feisty Arya Stark, who should have been waiting for a chance to prove herself.
“Kill the dragon!” Arya screamed and playfully impaled her wooden club to Robb’s chest before he tackled her to the ground, and began tickling her not before being dragged by two other monsters he had for sisters, all at once lounging on him to punch him, pull his auburn hair, fists, and feet pressing all over his chest, asking him to surrender, while he could only laugh till his stomach had hurt.
“Lucky bastard!” Theon muttered wildly. “Hey! I can be a monster too, you know. Why don’t you all bring me down? I could be a cool monster..”
Before Robb tried to kick Theon for being an arse to his sisters, a round ball of snow hit Theon squarely on his head, and he threw his murderous gaze at Jo.
“Yeah, ugly squid! In your dreams…“ Jo giggled, before gathering another snowball to hit at his face.
Jo ran towards the mound of snow pyramid, where her white wolf-pup, Ghost, was camouflaging its white fur with the crispy snow.
“Is your pup hiding because we made noise?”
“Oh, Robb! Don’t make her feel worse than she is already.” Jo pleaded. “All your pups don’t take her in their game. You know?” She cooed at her wolf-pup before lifting it in her arms, who was really, really timid, and Jo loved her more than anyone else.
“You know they won’t pick on her if she doesn’t get scared all the time.” Robb countered, staring at Jo picking Ghost and brushing her white little fur.
“Ghost doesn’t get scared—“
“Ghost is a coward!”
The Stark sisters, who’d never united for one single thing, unanimously chorused their contempt on her little furry friend, and Jo rolled her eyes.
“Alright! She is a little scared of crowd… and people… and noises.” Jo wondered if Ghost ever liked anything.
“Jo, did you know the feast was going to be really big?” Robb enquired, as he dusted off the snow crusts on his auburn curls, which were anyway melting slowly.
“Of course, we knew, Robb!” Sansa responded before she turned to Jo. “We should be trying out the dresses. It is already so late. The seamstress will be coming for measuring anytime soon. Arya!” Sansa screeched. “Stop it!” Arya began pelting her with snowballs, that soon started to make wet patches on her gown. “You are ruining it!”
“Come, get me, if you can!” Arya made odd faces before running in the direction of the castle.
“Look what she has done. Why can’t she be like us?” Sansa whined, almost crying like a child, before leaving for the measurement.
Jo was fairly sure Sansa could be a bit exaggerating when it came to Arya. Although, sometimes, Jo really thought Arya needed a bit of brushing her hair… and a bit of properly embroidered dress… and a bit of smile. The rat nest haired child often preferred to soak in mud and grime, lifting clubs to beat men in the courtyard. Sure, it was endearing. Although, Jo wished she could help Arya look a better warrior with some decoration.
“Robb, I have a surprise for you!”
Robb groaned. “No! You did not…“
“You didn’t even know what is the surprise. Come with me!”
Dragging Robb towards her chamber wasn’t a simpler task, as he kept murmuring about having too many sisters who were making him soft, and he didn’t like to be soft as stupid flowers.
Pushing open the tight wooden door, made of many swirling patterned designs, Jo straight away launched to her cupboard, which became home for some masterpiece gowns of hers.
She plucked out the celestrine velvet blue doublet that had golden swirls of patterns to aglow like a teasing glow of light in the darkness.
“You will look perfect in this. Your mother agrees so.” Jo gushed, her smile going wide. “Perhaps, this time you will succeed in wooing one girl!”
“I don’t want to look perfect. Gods, Jo! You are a ruiner.” Robb muttered, but his eyes were on the doublet’s designs. “You really are prepared for this feast!”
“Of course, I am! I have already got my dress ready. We can’t be sure when the lords will come.” Jo wondered if she could ask her father all about the possible unmarried lords’ list in a parchment. Lady Stark told her still Jo hadn’t reached womanhood and only after which they could look for a prospective match.
Lady Stark was a poised, strict woman who didn’t endure non-senses. And it took a great deal of time for Jo to earn Lady Catelyn’s affection. Jo didn’t like anyone hating her. She could not endure the horror of being anything less than pleasant.
First, she would rely on batting her eyelids, making a face of a wounded pup, then on a good wide smile—as Robb had often pointed out, she really had bright teeth set, and a perfect, dimpled smile. If that didn’t help, she would do anything in her ability to make them like her.
Bringing Lady Stark to her side was quite a task, but it was all worth it.
“I can’t believe you! How could you already be ready for all this?”
“Come here!” Jo dragged her stupid brother towards the tall wooden cupboard that their father had ordered specially for her. There, below each stack, contained hundreds of little ice-sculpted figurines. “I have been preparing, Robb! See, I am going to gift the man I like, this wolf ice-figurine which looked like Ghost, that never melts, so he really, really will be interested in me.”
“Er… Father will not let you. Have you gone mad, Jo? You can’t reveal this to anyone other than family.”
“Oh, come on, Robb!” Jo waved her hand, exasperatedly. “It is not really a secret. Besides, it’s good art. Mikken told, he would sell big ice sculptures to rich families and earn a lordship with that money.”
“Mikken is a fool. No one becomes a lord selling ice.” Robb evaded. “That is not the point, though. The household is loyal to us. Besides, Jo! You can’t reveal this.”
“I say, that is dull reasoning,” Jo replied, closing the cupboard door. Sure, she hadn’t sold the ice-sculptures, although she had perfected her art a year ago. Father had hired a wood sculptor to teach her to carve designs first, and figurines later, which she applied on ice-sculptures in her spare time, because apparently Ned Stark always thought revealing her ability on ice would not be a good thing. But Jo felt that was foolish. It would fetch gold. In fact, good-looking young men were prone to get distracted by her bastard blood—however, her smile was lovely, and she needed all her skills at the display, so they would ask for her hand. “It is not like I will give away everything to everyone, Robb. Only to the one, I end up trusting.”
“Argh….” He growled. “You will have no need for that. Father has already found a match for you. The Reeds are coming to get you.”
Her panic was reaching peaks. Robb sometimes got on the grates of her nerve. How could he not tell this first thing?
“When?… How many?… The Reeds are the ones defending the Neck. Aren’t they?… And… And…“
Robb shook her shoulder before she was drowning to wonder about their house sigil.
“You will leave us!” He said with a swelled sadness.
“Er…“ She blinked, focusing her attention to understand what he was trying to tell. “Robb, that is written stone, when I was born a girl. Of course, I will leave Winterfell.” He was being a baby. It was bound to happen and Jo had prepared for this moment, not ready to risk being caught in a surprise and even make it the best thing that was about to happen to her. Jo was definite she could impress anyone.
“Well, I know that. Still, it will not hurt for you to pretend like you really want to stay here. It is like, all you think about is, running away.”
No, she wanted to tell. Jo loved Winterfell. Yeah, she didn’t have many other places for her to love. But this was her home. The cold, the snow, her father, Sansa, and everything she loved was, in Winterfell, where she belonged. But being a bastard taught her things faster than others. Robb might feel emotional now, because he was still a baby. But, one day, she would need a place to call it her own, where she was respected, and loved, and she knew things wouldn’t be the same for a bastard girl when she lived in her father’s home. She would just be a burden and a shame to him.
So, she had a plan.
First, she would find a dutiful, lovely man to be her husband. She really wanted a knight who had a Keep of his own. Lady Stark had once said, the Northern lords’ bastard sons would sometimes end up getting a Keep of their own, and just for the Stark blood, they might be interested in her. So, she had to find the best out of them, impress them, and really make them love her, like how her father really, really loved Lady Stark.
Jo tried to swallow that empty feeling about who her mother was. Really, it didn’t matter. Perhaps her father hadn’t loved her mother.
That was her plan, although she did think about a few backups. Like, one such was to sell her ice-figurines to rich houses and earn a few coins, in case her husband would become bored with her, and left her because she was a bastard girl.
Her reverie was broken when Robb pulled her for a good, long hug.
Robb was easily the best person in the world. Although sometimes he acted like he knew everything, he was so sweet. Jo nuzzled into Robb’s chest, her fingers clutching tightly around his torso.
“You know, I would marry you if you were not my sister.”
“Yeah!” She whispered, closing her eyes. “I wouldn’t though. You are lousy at wearing a properly matching attire.”
Robb gave a growl, before pulling her long dark hair that went near her butt. “Did anyone tell, how insufferable you can become?”
“All the times!” She giggled.