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Jon hated Robb's Nameday.
Okay, that was a lie, or at least, not the complete truth. He didn't hate his brother's nameday; in fact, he loved to celebrate it, along with all his other half-siblings' namedays, especially Arya's. Those were always a great deal of fun.
But what Jon hated was how those namedays made him feel, especially Robb's. While Lady Stark always tried to make it clear she didn't want him part of the family, on her children's namedays, she went the extra mile to exclude him. Barring him, or as she would say, strongly discouraging him, from joining in on the feast and activities because a bastard's presence would only ruin the atmosphere. Even Theon Greyjoy got to participate, and he's even more apart from the family than Jon.
He tried not to let his hurt and discomfort show and spent most of his time practicing his swordsmanship on the dummies in the courtyard. He needed to be ready for when he eventually left for the Wall to join the Night's Watch, the only place in the world that might accept a bastard like him.
But this year was different.
This year, Robb actually stood up to his mother and asked for Jon to attend the feast. Jon was surprised when Lady Catelyn, after hours of arguing, finally relented and allowed him to join. At first, Jon was finally happy to be included in his family's celebrations.
Only when the party began did Jon wish he were anywhere else but there.
Everyone's attention was on Robb, which made sense, given it was his nameday, the reason all these stubborn Northern Lords walked days, some even weeks, to come to Winterfell. But still, his other siblings got attention. Sansa, of course, was approached by countless young men, interested in her hand, Arya too, though she tried to avoid them if she could. People even greeted Bran and Rickon, the former too young to understand the importance of meeting with the Lords, and the latter barely being able to speak. Even Theon was being spoken to, despite the tension between Northerners and Ironborn.
But no one paid any attention to Jon Snow, the Bastard of Winterfell.
No lords greeted him when they passed, no ladies asked him to dance, and even the servants avoided him like the plague. It was like he didn't even exist. And that hurt more than being told not to join in the feast.
It was moments like these, where Jon wished he could hate Robb. Wished he could allow the jealousy and envy he felt for his half-brother to take hold and strike him, or yell at him for mocking him like this. Make him feel like he was a part of the family, only to be ignored by everyone around him.
But no. Despite how much he wished he could, Jon never could hate Robb. He was his brother, his twin. They did everything together growing up. Trained together, learned together, hunted together, got into trouble pulling pranks together. And more than that, Jon knew Robb always did his best to try and include him in the family, with no other reason than because he saw Jon as his brother, not just half-brother. So Jon couldn't hate his brother for unintentionally hurting him and making him feel even more alone, not when it came from a place of love.
But Robb didn't understand; he never did. He never understood what it meant to feel like an outsider in your own home, like your existence is an insult to a woman who you did nothing to except be born. To feel like you shouldn't have been born. But he didn't have a choice. He's never had a choice. Not since he was born.
"Just a couple more years. Just hold on for a few more years, and you'll be able to leave all this behind." Jon thought to himself, a mantra he used to try to cheer himself up when he felt like this.
His gaze then locked onto Robb as he approached a table where a young lady, probably a few years younger than him, sat between two older men, probably her brothers.
It took a moment for Jon to remember who they were—the Norreys. From what he remembered from his lessons under Maester Luwin in the Northern Houses, the Norreys were a family that resided in the mountains south of the Gift. Their house words were "Tall as a Mountain", if he remembered right. Fitting, given they live on the mountain.
From what he remembered of the family, the current head was Rendon Norrey. His wife, whose name he can't recall, died in childbirth, bearing his third son. He had four children, three sons: Owen, Cerys, and Arthur, and one daughter, Caitriona, who he guessed was the young lady Robb was currently approaching.
From what he saw, Jon thought Caitriona was a pretty young lady. Not beautiful like Sansa or what he's heard about Queen Cersei, but she was prettier than most highborn girls he's met, not that he's met a lot of highborn girls. Besides, what highborn lady would want to get close to him? He's nothing but a bastard, a stain on his father's honour.
He pushed down the anger and despair of his status and focused back on Robb and Lady Caitorina.
"My lady, may I have this dance?" He was able to pick up Robb's voice. Despite the commotion and all the movement in the hall, Jon was able to pick up on his brother's voice and question, barely though. He wished he hadn't even heard it, though. He rolled his eyes.
This was another reason why he wanted to hate Robb. He always managed to get the girls. They all loved him, ignoring Jon completely. It bothered him more than he let on. Despite his wish to join the Night's Watch, the only thing he wanted was to have a family of his own. But what kind of lady would fall in love with a bastard, highborn or smallfolk?
He was so consumed with his self-loathing that he almost missed Caitorina's response, "No, thank you, my lord."
As soon as she said that, Jon's eyes widened as he turned back to look at the scene with his full focus. This had never happened before. No lady, not once, had ever refused to dance with Robb Stark, the future Warden of the North, especially when he asked them. He then focused on his half-brother, who, too, looked shocked that he had been refused. Seeing the look of rejection on his face, something vindictive in Jon roared in victory.
He quickly recovered and tried again. "It's not polite for a lady to refuse."
What Caitorina said next, Jon would never forget for as long as he lived.
"Yes, well, it's not polite for a lady to step in horse shit either, but I'd honestly rather do that than dance again. Now, kindly, leave me alone."
He couldn't stop the small smile growing on his face if he tried to. Here was Robb Stark, the Young Wolf as he was being called, and future Warden of the North, being told that stepping in horse shit was a better alternative than dancing with him. Oh, he was gonna hold this over Robb till the end of their days.
Caitorina's gaze then locked onto him. She was actually the first person that night who looked him in the eyes in that whole feast. He saw embarrassment and anger on her face, but Jon's smile never left him. This was just too funny.
Caitorina was soon dragged out of the hall by her father. Even after they left, everyone's eyes were still on where they exited. Jon caught looks of concern on Caitorina's brothers' faces, but he didn't know why. Robb just continued to stand there, blushing in embarrassment at being told that stepping in horse shit was a better alternative than dancing with him.
It was a look Jon would remember for a long time, along with the face of the young lady who said it.