"Keep your footing, Jon! Trail your right boot farther behind, whether you are rushed by shield or sword."

"Aye, Ser Rodrik," Jon replied.

Robb offered him a hand and helped him to his feet. Jon had kept his wooden sword in hand when his brother charged, but his shield lay in the dirt a few paces away. Jon bent and straightened his elbow, testing for stiffness. Though Jon Snow was slightly taller than his brother, he could not match Robb's strength. The elder of the two had begun to fill out his frame, while Jon remained as lean as any boy of two-and-ten.

The training yard of Winterfell smelled of grass and leather armor. Jon breathed deeply and took a moment to let his eyes scan his castle home. Ser Rodrik Cassel bent to pick up the tattered, old shield and Jon glimpsed a shadow in the distance, over the whiskered knight's shoulder. In the not quite waning daylight, the shadow strode down the slight grass hill towards the dirt of the training yard. Jon tapped Robb with his sword, then pointed at the figure. Robb nodded in silent agreement and a moment later the boys sprinted to the fence. Jon climbed over while Robb dove between the boards. They charged the dark figure with their swords extended like lances.

The shadow grinned and sidestepped their clumsy attack. Jon danced from one foot to the other in front of the man. Robb circled round and smacked the shadow on his arse.

"Now you're mine!" hollered the shrouded man. In one deft motion, he grabbed Robb by the collar and then hoisted the lad over his shoulder. Jon turned to run, but fared no better.

With a boy on each shoulder, the man shouted to Ser Rodrik, "Brave knight, I've caught two wild beasts! Mayhaps, we could put them on a spit and roast them for supper!"

"I'll spark a fire, if you clean and dress the meat, Benjen."

Jon and his brother laughed as their uncle tossed them both to the grass.

"You're back, is their trouble at the Wall?"

"Do you need our help throwing back wildling clans?"

Benjen Stark laughed at their jest. "Horses and steel from Lord Stark, is all. But should the Night's Watch have need of your swords, I'll ride here in all haste."

The boys lost all capacity for attention with their uncle within the castle walls. Ser Rodrik told them that if they returned their wooden arms and padded armor to the armory, they would be free from their training for the balance of the afternoon.

Benjen Stark seldom visited his childhood home. As First Ranger, he spent more time riding out beyond the Wall, than south of it. His face held the solemn features typical to his house, but his nephews saw him wear a grin more often than not.

Robb and Jon assailed Benjen with questions of his adventures in the Haunted Forest and beyond. They followed him to the Great Hall and played at fighting out his stories of shadow cats and Mance Rayder's wildlings.

The rest of the household joined them for a dinner of lighthearted stories and jests. To each tale: the two eldest brothers boasted of what they would have done in the frozen wilderness, their eldest sister thanked her uncle, and little Arya and Bran sat wide-eyed and unable to discern between truth and Benjen's teasing.

"I could be a man of the Night's Watch."

At Robb's words, a hush fell upon the family's table.

"I really could, uncle. I'd wear black mail and leather and chase wildlings up into the Lands of Always Winter. Then they would tell their nephews of the ferocious Robb Stark and never be seen on our lands again."

As Robb tried to sound like a man grown, he could not have sounded more of a boy.

Lady Catelyn Stark shifted in agitation. She gave her husband a worried look.

Lord Eddard was about to speak when his brother began instead, "The Watch is no place for boys, no matter how eager or brave. Your place is here, in Winterfell." Benjen lightened his expression and said, "Have I ever told you, yet, how best to tell a snowbear from a bear covered in snow? When you see one, climb a tree. If the bear climbs up after you and eats you, it is just a common bear. If it knocks the tree over, then eats you –that's a snowbear for true."

Later, Jon and Robb sought out their uncle before going to bed. They looked for him in the Great Hall, then their sisters' chambers. When they felt certain that he was in their father's solar, they crept up the stairs and through the halls, preparing to ambush him.

They heard the shouting well before they reached the room. Jon wanted to turn back, but Robb grabbed his sleeve and continued on. One of the raised voices was clearly Lady Stark's; not until they reached the closed door did they realize that the man's voice belonged to their uncle rather than their father.

". . . no place for a green boy! I'll not see my fate visited upon my nephew."

"Benjen, this is not your decision," said the woman. "He is not your son."

Robb and Jon turned to each other. Robb mouthed, "They…are…talking…about…me."

Jon wondered if Benjen had thought Robb serious about wanting to join the Night's Watch. He should know his kin well enough to see the jape in the boy's words, Jon thought. Furthermore, Benjen seemed to be arguing against it. Why would Robb's mother want him to take the Black?

"My lady, he's not your son either."

And instantly, Jon understood.

"What other choice have we? Is my husband's bastard going to grow into a greybeard within these halls? Perhaps he could sire some whelps of his own. We could have more little Snows sulking about the castle. Or mayhaps he has the grace to marry his wench. The gets could take one of those comical House names, the Northmen's version of 'Longwaters' or 'Riverswyft'; as if the realm forgets that such are still the unwelcome gets of an unwanted son.

"I've had enough, Ned! Two-and-ten years he has shared a home –even shared a bedroom for much of that time– with my children, your children,my lord. He must be sent away! The Wall, the deserts beyond Pentos, any of the Seven Hells, just somewhere!"

"Ned, brother, how can you listen to this? Why are you mute when it needs be you to stand for the boy?"

"Enough!" Jon heard a chair topple over and his father's voice first enter the row. "My lady, I must have words with my brother," Eddard growled. "We shall speak later -you and I."

The sound of footsteps approaching stirred Jon from his frozen position. He and Robb ran as fast and as quietly as they could. Lady Stark would not look kindly on finding Jon, especially.

The boys barreled into Robb's room, breathless and stunned. Robb's mother hadn't yelled at them and thus they assumed their escape successful.

"But . . . she can't . . . send you away!" The ferocity of Robb tone was at odds with the whisper-soft volume of his voice. "Father will listen to Uncle Ben . . . won't he?"

"Robb, I don't know," Jon shook his head. The heir of Winterfell's chamber was brightened only by the moonlight falling through the windows. Jon was glad for the darkness, for he did not wish his brother to see the despair in his face, nor the welling tears in his eyes.

"No matter what else happens, I will not allow it. You hear me? No matter what. I swear it by the old-"

Jon interrupted, "If father tells me to leave, what can I do but leave. . . The Wall won't be so bad. I'll have our uncle. The Starks have manned the Wall for thousands of years. It would be as if I were a part of that. There is honor being a Black Brother. . ." Jon tried to convince himself.

"Uncle's stories aren't real. He forgets that we are no longer little, that we are nearly men grown. His tales are for Bran, not us anymore. . . You cannot mean that you want to go."

Robb looked at him, but Jon could not distinguish if his face could be seen. To Jon, Robb looked truly like a shadow, save for his eyes which reflected a bare glimmer of moonlight.

"I do not know what I want. I have not the slightest idea what to do, brother. We'll speak at some later time."

Jon left the room without another word slipping from either of them. When he reached his own room, he locked his door. He quietly placed his single, wicker chair against the door as well. He climbed into his bed, pulled his linens and furs over his head and wept into his mattress.