ASOIAF ~ uncle/aunt GNPov ~ the Bastard of Winterfell※

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The sound of wood hitting wood echoed across the yard as your nephews sparred, only aided by your master-at-arms Rodrik Cassel. You leaned against the wooden frame of the balcony as you watched them in silence, keen eyes studying your brother Ned's bastard - Jon Snow. Whoever his mother had been, Ned must've loved her fiercely, you thought. You could still remember the look of hurt on your good-sister Catelyn's face when Robert's Rebellion finished and Ned came back North, only to bring back a bastard boy with himself, how Ned avoided all questions of Jon's parentage. At one point, you yourself asked, trying to coax an answer out of him, only to be swiftly rebutted. It wasn't often Ned raised his voice. You never did asked again.

You crossed your arms as the bastard knocked the practice sword from Robb's hand, sending it flying against the stone wall, a sharp creak cutting through the cold morning, only accompanied by the soft panting of the two boys and the falling summer snow. For a brief moment, as Jon lowered the practice sword, his eyes met your; a cold, Stark grey. He looked more Stark than his half-siblings. Had someone not known, they might've mistaken him for your own.

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