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With the crumbled up parchment delicately, but tightly, squeezed between the palm of her hand, Aneira ran through the courtyard of Winterfell. She couldn't believe she had been the person to intercept this raven from Kings Landing, but she was. She ran through the corridor until she got to the hall where Robb was, alongside Theon and Maester Luwin.

"This is from Kings Landing!" She shouted, waving the paper  around as she stopped short of running into the table.

Theon jumped up, standing before Robb, rushing around the edge of the table to take the letter from Aneira.

"The King is dead!" She exclaimed, resting a hand on Theon's arm as she tried to gather herself and catch her breath. "Robert bloody Baratheon is dead." She repeated herself, looking over at Robb as Theon handed him the notice. "And that little prick who thinks he's King has taken Lord Stark into custody."

"Treason?" Robb scoffed, letting his eyes travel over the letter before meeting Aneira's gaze.

Aneira nodded, slowly moving her hand from Theon's arm as she finally had settled her nerves down.

"Your sisters hand, but the queens words." Maester Luwin explained, his hand moving to gently rest on Aneira's back as he was the first one to notice that tears had welled in her eyes as she leaned against the table.

"They're summoning you to King's Landing, Robb. To swear fealty to that little yellow-haired prick, Joffrey." Aneira sneered, anger rising up from deep within her. She silently thanked Maester Luwin with a nod of her head, before she stepped closer to Robb.

"Joffrey puts my father in chains and now he wants his ass kissed?" Robb grunted, the anger clear in his voice.

"A royal command is not to be ignored. If you choose to refuse-"

"I won't refuse." Robb cut Maester Luwin off, staring back down at the letter before his eyes turned to Theon and Aneira. "But I will not be going to King's Landing alone." He folded up the letter and handed it back to the Maester, "Call the banners."

Theon smirked slightly, standing beside Robb to show his support. Aneira gently placed her hand onto Robb's arm, "All of them?" She asked him softly, unsure of what his plans were.

"They've all sworn to defend my father, have they not?" Robb looked to the Maester before looking at Aneira who was still holding onto him. "Your uncles are sworn to House Stark, Annie."

"They have." Maester Luwin nodded his head in agreement.

"Now we will see what their words are worth."

Maester Luwin left quickly to do as he was instructed. Aneira kept a grasp on Robb's arm, moving with him as he sat back down.

"You afraid?" Theon asked with genuine curiosity.

Robb didn't respond right away. He looked down to raise his hand from the tabletop, showing that it was visibly shaking. "I must be." He replied with a humorless laugh.

Aneira quickly slipped her hands around his, giving him a firm squeeze to offer her support. "It's okay to be afraid." She told him, "You will not face this alone." She moved to bring his hand into her lap, as her head took its place on his shoulder. "I promise you that House Glover will answer your call."

Robb laced his fingers with Aneira's, giving her hand a gentle squeeze back. He turned to look at Theon with a weak smile.

"And you know I will ride into any battle with you. Whether it's against the fucking Lannisters, or anyone else who chooses to stand in your way."

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"Uncle!" Aneira cried happily, picking up her skirts to run just a bit faster through the courtyard. The gates had only just been opened as her Uncle Galbart entered on horseback. Just as she suspected, he had been the first to answer the call.

"Aneira!" Galbart dismounted his horse and engulfed his niece in a large hug. He lifted her up off the ground, spinning her around as she let out a childish laugh. "You have grown even more since you last stepped foot in Deepwood Motte." Galbart told her, setting her down on both feet firmly before he held her hand and asked her to spin for him. "You are just as beautiful as your mother was at this age." A sadness took over him for a moment before he was brought out of that cloud when Aneira stopped spinning, holding onto his hand tightly.

"Thank you, Uncle. I enjoy being told that, you know. Because the last time I saw Uncle Robbett he told me I, and I quote, 'you look just like your bastard, worthless father'." Aneira tried to make a joke of a serious situation, turning to bring her uncle further into the castle.

"Still on about that man, eh?" Galbart sighed, "He is of no importance. Not to you, not to anyone in Westeros."

"Just because you say this man is not good enough for me, does not mean that I should just agree with you." Aneira told him, linking her arm with his as she walked with him. "A name is all I have ever asked for, Uncle."

"One day I will tell you. But today, is not that day. We have much more important matters at hand, my sweet girl." Galbart offered his niece a smile, ignoring the glare coming from her before she looked away and brought him into the hall to meet with Robb.

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As Jon sat with his back pressed against the door, his eyes falling into his Lord Commander, all he could think about was how did that dead man rise, and why wouldn't a sword through the stomach kill him again?

His heart was still beating rapidly in his chest, his hand aches from the minor burns he received just moments ago after he took the open framed lantern and tossed it at the undead man before he and the Lord Commander barricaded themselves into the other room.

"I think this will take some time to digest what we just witnessed." Jeor Mormont, the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, finally spoke up. One hand rested on the wall upon which he was leaning against, while the other stroked at the thick, coarse facial hair that grew around his mouth, scraping his fingernails against his skin, wondering about what was to come next.

"I don't think that's going to happen overnight, Lord Commander." Jon admitted with a quick shake of his head. He sunk down to the floor, keeping his back pressed against the door before he watched Jeor take a seat as well.

"I'm glad to see that you have decided to stay and that you have sworn your oaths, Snow." Jeor looked over at him with a nod. "Your Father would be proud of you. Lord Eddard Stark was never one to enjoy being fussed over." The older man chuckled at his attempt at a joke.

Jon looked down and took in a deep breath, "I'm not proud to admit that I wanted to take Ghost and ride for Winterfell the moment that raven from King's Landing arrived."

"To try and free your father?" Jeor questioned.

"Yes." Jon replied flatly, trying not to show that there were other ulterior motives for him not wanting to take his oath.

"Taking the black at such a young age is a tough decision, Snow. Me? I'm an old man. I have lived my life for longer than I have been Lord Commander, you know. And yet, there is still one person I long to see."

Jon watched him curiously, "Your son?"

Jeor rolled his eyes. "I think I have the ability to die a happy old man without ever having to see my son again. He disgraced the Mormont name. He disgraced -" Jeor paused and waved a hand, "No matter."

Jon couldn't help but feel like he was looking into a familiar set of eyes as he stared over at his Lord Commander.

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"Galbart Glover will lead the vanguard." Robb placed his horn of ale down, looking over at Aneira who smiled warmly back at him. She had gently placed a hand over her uncles hand, patting him as of to silently remind him that she was right. She had told him earlier he was the only one that Robb would trust to lead. After all, their families were always closer than the other Northern houses.

"The bloody Wall will melt before an Umber marches behind a Glover!" Jon Umber exclaimed, pointing his finger at Galbart with a sneer on his face. "I will lead the van, or I will take my men and march them home."

Aneira clenched her fists tightly, glancing at Robb before she stood up and slammed her open palm against the table. Ignoring the shooting pain that curled up her arm, she stared down at the man at the end of the table. "The bloody hell you will, Lord Umber. My uncle was the first to answer the call. He was the first man to march in through those gates of Winterfell and if Robb Stark says he is going to lead the van, then he is the best man to lead the fucking van."

Galbart stared up at his niece in awe, a small smirk appearing on his lips as he enveloped her hand in his much larger one. He was about to open his mouth to tell her she could sit down before Lord Umber did it for him. "Sit down, girl!" The Greatjon stood up now, staring her down. "I don't care what you think. This conversation about war is no place for a girl like you."

"What does that mean?" Aneira shouted back at him, her hand pulling roughly from her uncles as she leaned against the table. She would not back down, atleast not until Robb told her to.

"Enough!" Robb finally spoke, his hands resting by his face as he stared down at the man opposing his decisions. "You are welcome to do so, Lord Umber."

Aneira sat down, her head still stirring with the confrontation she had been involved in. She glared at Lord Umber, peeling a piece of the meat from her plate and tossing it to Grey Wind, smiling at the direwolf who gladly took the scraps.

"And when I am done with the Lannisters, I will march back North, root you out of your keep, and hang you for an oathbreaker." Robb continued, his voice loud enough for the other houses to hear now. Several men at the surrounding tables turned to pay more attention and Aneira sat up taller, watching him in awe. She made a mental note to tell Robb that he sounded like his Father.

"Oathbreaker, is it?" Greatjon stood up and shoved things away with his hand. He stared down at Robb with anger rising with each passing second. The moment he rose, many other men followed suit. Aneira stood beside Robb, as her uncle joined in with his hand gently resting by the hilt of his sword. "I'll not sit here and swallow insults from a boy so green he pisses grass." Lord Umber snapped, reaching for his sword. This sudden movement made Aneira reach for Robb's arm, while her uncle moved to unsheath his own sword.

Before anyone else could make a move, Grey Wind rushed the table and launched an attack on Greatjon's hand. Silence overcame the hall and all that could be heard were the cries from the large man, writhing in pain, and the growls from the direwolf who had done as to be expected - protected their master.

"My Lord Father taught me that it was death to bare steel against your liege-lord." Robb could not help but let the corners of his lips turn up into a small smirk, "I am sure the Greatjon only meant to cut my meat for me."

Aneira scoffed from beside him, ignoring the look coming from her uncle. She knew that even though he may be proud of her loyalty to her mothers house, as to the Starks, he would have a talk with her about speaking up on things she had no authority in.

"Your meat..." Greatjon held his hand tightly, glancing down at the blood that dropped from the place his two fingers had once been, before looking back up at Robb, "is bloody tough!" As he began to laugh, everyone including Robb, joined in. Aneira kept her lips firmly pressed together, glancing around in distaste. If she had her way, she would have sent the man back home and not dare to share a laugh after the disrespect he had shown Robb.

Later that night, Aneira stood in that very same hall staring over at her Uncle. He had just told her that she was to stay in Winterfell and she just about lost her mind. Her hands clenched tightly into fists as she shook her head, "I cannot stay here! I should ride with you, with Robb, I cannot be of any help here."

"What about Bran and Rickon?" Galbart questioned, still seated by the fire as he let out a deep sigh. "They will need you more than I will, more than Robb. You must think logically. War is no place for a lady, you will not be of any help there." He spoke the last bit with slight hesitation behind his words. He turned to face his niece again, watching her pace back and forth by the fire. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her and if she was as thick-headed as both of her parents, he knew she would eventually find a way to join them.

She hated that he was right. She knew she would be of more use here at Winterfell with Bran and Rickon. They needed her more than anyone else needed her. She looked down at the floor, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she thought it over. "I hate when you're right." She sighed, finally meeting his gaze. "My father isn't Greatjon Umber is it?"

Galbart burst out into laughter. He shook his head profusely and moved to stand beside her. His hands gently cupped her face as he brought his lips to her forehead. "No, my sweet girl, he is not your father."

"Please tell me who is. I need to know. I-I want to know. I am a grown maiden of almost eight and ten now, Uncle Galbart. I think I have the right to know." Aneira grabbed her uncles wrists, holding his hands against her face as she stared up at him.

"I told you earlier that today is not the right day for such talk. When this war is won, and we are back home with Lord Eddard, I will tell you. I promise."

Aneira could only nod in silent agreement. As much as she wanted to, she decided not to continue the argument. As they parted, she turned to face the incoming sound of foot steps. Robb stood there, dressed as though he was ready to ride off to war at that very moment. Aneira looked over at her uncle and realized that they were, in fact, leaving in the dead of night.

Galbart left, providing them with some privacy, his hand momentarily resting on Robb's shoulder as he exited the room.

"You are leaving? Right now?" Aneira asked, tugging her robes tighter around herself as she realized she was completely underdressed, especially to be in a dark room alone with a man who was not her husband.

"The Lannisters have spies everywhere. We need to leave now so they don't see us coming." Robb stepped up beside her though kept his eyes trained on the fire, surprised it was still roaring to life even after not having been fed since after supper.

"You're contradicting yourself, Robb. They have spies everywhere. I'm sure they have spies who stalk the night. I wouldn't put it past them." Aneira watched the flames before looking at Robb. "I will miss you, you know. I didn't think you would be leaving so quickly. I've written Jon... I hope you don't mind that I told him everything."

"Jon has taken his oath. There is nothing he can do for this family now." Robb told her, though he did not care that she provided him with the information. He knew he would find out eventually. Just because the Night's Watch were at the edge of the kingdom, they were still well versed in the happenings of Westeros. "But I will miss you, as well, Annie." He smiled over to her, showing that he was being genuine. "I owe you a great debt. My mother will be happy to know that you are here with Bran and Rickon. Those boys love you, you know."

"And I love them." Aneira told him. She finally turned to face him completely, "Please be safe. The Lannisters fight dirty, Robb. You have to lean on the guidance of my uncle, and the other Lords. They have seen war, they have been soldiers for longer than we have been alive. Trust them, and they will guide you to victory." She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her lips quickly to his own before resting her head down against his chest. "One day you will make a great Lord of Winterfell, Robb Stark."

Robb wrapped his arms around Aneira in return. Her lips had barely brushed his, not enough for him to properly kiss her back. "I told Bran I will write when I can. I promise you the same." He spoke softly as he pulled back, offering Aneira one final smile before he turned and walked off, journeying off in the night to fight a war for the sake of his fathers life.

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"Valaryian steel?" Jon looked up at his Lord Commander before turning his attention back to the blade weighing down his hands.

"Longclaw." Jeor smiled fondly, gesturing to the sword. "A family sword passed down in the house of Mormont. It should have gone to my son, Jorah..." he paused once more before letting out a sigh, "but he has brought dishonor on our family name and surprising enough had the honor to leave the sword before fleeing Westeros."

"My lord, you honor me. I cannot accept this."

"Oh, but you can." Jeor moved to pick up a vase, looking back at Jon with a serious look upon his face. "And you will. Because with nothing but honesty, I would not be standing here if it wasn't for you and your...beast."

"The Mormont line still lives on, though, yes? I would hate to take away this magnificent sword from your family and cause any I'll will." Jon inspected the sword again, though still in shock that the Lord Commander wanted him to have it, he could not help but feel as though he still did not deserve it.

"Women." Jeor replied, "All that remains of house Mormont are women. Though they are fierce..." he sat down at his table with a thoughtful expression, "Longclaw is yours and I will not here another word about it. Do you understand?"

"Aye, my lord." Jon bowed his head, holding in the giddiness he felt deep down inside. This sword was beautiful, and he felt honored and privileged to be its new owner.

When he made it to the hall and allowed his brothers of the nights watch to take a closer look at the sword, Jon could not help but feel that there was something Sam was keeping from him. He moved to sit down with his back against the table, "Go on, Sam, say it."

"I really shouldn't." Sam shook his head and averted his gaze from meeting Jon's.

"Sam." Jon sighed, "What is it?"

Sam looked at his friend, finally. "It was a raven. From Aneira... I read it to Maester Aemon."

Jon immediately sat up, "What? What is it?" He repeated his question again.

"It's your brother, Robb. He's heading south, to war." Sam told him.

"I should be there, with him..." Jon began to think about Aneira, frowning at the thought of her in the middle of this without him. "Did she say anything else?"

Sam shook his head. "Just that all the bannermen answered his call and he began to march south in the night." Sam watched Jon, a brow raised slightly before he spoke again, "Are you worried for her? I'm sure she is in Winterfell. A lady would not ride off to fight a war."

"Aneira is not like any of the ladies you know, Sam." Jon admitted, forcing out a laugh at the close yet distant memory of her begging him to teach her how to fight.

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Jon had wrestled with the worry for his brother and Aneira all night. The following day, sulking as one would do in this kind of situation, Jon agreed to assist Maester Aemon. Scrunching his nose at the meat cut up to feed the ravens, Jon began doing his duty as a steward.

"Tell me, do you know why the Night's Watch take the oath to take no wives and father no children?" The older man hobbled behind Jon as he began walking to the cages that housed their ravens.

"No." Jon admitted quickly.

"Love." Maester Aemon replied, still following behind the young steward. "Love is the death of duty."

Jon continued feeding the ravens, answering the maesters questions about his father, Lord Eddard Stark. He did not have to be told that his father was one in ten thousand. He turned slightly, glancing at the old man as he continued to speak.

"What is honor compared to a woman's love?" Maester Aemon posed the question innocently enough, but Jon froze in his spot and wondered what Sam had told him. "And duty... what is that compared to the feel of a newborn son in your arms?" Aemon grinned, "or maybe a brothers smile."

Jon frowned, chucking some of the meat through the iron bars before looking back at the Maester. "Sam told you."

"We are all human, Jon Snow."

Maester Aemon continued to ramble off. It was obvious he had hoped that Jon would take his words to heart and accept the knowledge of what duty truly was.

"I may be a bastard, but he is my father and Robb is my brother." Jon had stopped away, slamming the wooden bowl down with a deep sigh.

Maester Aemon could only frown. The anger and despair that he felt the day his house had been laid to ruin coming back to him as he stepped closer and closer to Jon. "I was helpless, blind, and frail. When I heard they had killed my brother son, and his poor son. And the children!" Aemon exclaimed, the emotions of that day never having been far.

Jon was silent. He stepped back for a moment and looked over the old man before him before posing the question he had been wondering for the last few minutes, "Who are you?"

"My father..." he paused and Jon swore it could only be for dramatic effect, "was Maekar. The first of his name, and my brother, Aegon, reigned after him when I had refused the throne."

Jon knew the answer already, but he could not help but speak the Maester's given name. "You're Aemon Targaryen?"