Sansa gets married at the end of February. Jon and Robb take the whole week off and go home to help with the wedding preparations, which mostly consist in stopping Sansa from trying to outdo William and Kate, checking that Catelyn eats and gets some sleep, and making sure that their relatives don't murder each other.
"It would be better if she waited 'till spring," Robb keeps saying on the evening before the big day.
Jon hums his agreement, dividing his attention between his brother and his laptop, because Sam is sending him the notes from last week's lectures that they missed. "Would've been nice if she did it during spring break," he says, then types the same thing to Sam. Sam replies with his best wishes for Sansa and a smiley face.
"Aunt Lysa is driving me mad, she keeps hinting that there's a baby on the way," Robb continues. He's trying to pace the floor back and forth, though since their old room is tiny he's mostly standing in place and turning around. "Mum would have been happier with a longer engagement too."
"Yeah," Jon says. Privately, he thinks that Catelyn just wanted to draw out things in the hope that Sansa would end up dumping Sandor, and that Sansa knew exactly what was going on when she set the date. Anything that pisses off Catelyn is a win in Jon's book, but he can't tell Robb that. "Sansa looks happy," he says instead.
Robb groans. "I like Clegane," he says. "I didn't think I would, but he's a good chap and he's head over heels for Sansa. I just wish he wasn't so old."
Jon signs off the chat and closes his laptop. "They're in love," he says. "People do stupid things when they're in love." He doesn't mention Jeyne and their senior year, but Robb knows that's what Jon means anyway.
With a theatrical sigh, his brother flops down on Jon's bed. Jon puts the laptop away to make more room, then lays down next to him, arms stretched behind his head. They stare at the ceiling for a while, watching it light up every time a car passes by their window. In another room, someone's watching a rerun of Doctor Who on the telly -- probably Arya, she likes the Dalek episodes best.
"I know why you wish she waited 'till spring," Jon says after a while. Robb props himself up on an elbow and stares at him without understanding. Jon waits for an appropriately dramatic time, then smirks and says, "You're ashamed of exposing your knees to the world!"
Robb bursts out laughing and Jon joins in, until Robb grabs the pillow and throws it at his face. "More like I don't want to expose them to the chilly winter air," Robb says. "And don't forget that your knees will be on display too, you prick."
Jon hugs the pillow and glances at their outfits for tomorrow, laid over two chairs in a corner of the room. It's hard to forget, the two kilts are almost staring at him. There hasn't been a wedding in their family in years, dad used to joke that they were bad for them, but they are going to do everything according to tradition.
(Sansa had tried to talk Robb out of it, saying that everyone would look so much better in a tuxedo, but Robb could be stubborn when he put his mind to something. "It's what dad would have wanted," he said, and Sansa's eyes went wet and she nodded. Even Rickon is going to wear a kilt, even though he'll probably spend the whole ceremony complaining that the fabric is itchy and that he doesn't want people to take photos of him in a skirt.)
There's just one thing bothering Jon. "I shouldn't be wearing your tartan," he says. His voice is muffled by the pillow, as if he's trying not to make himself heard, but at the same time he can't shut up. The kilts are grey and white, Stark colours. "Great-uncle Arnolf won't like it..."
Predictably, Robb frowns, but just for a moment. They can't be sad on the eve of Sansa's big day. "Great-uncle Arnolf can suck it up," Robb says. "Sansa is going to have all of her brothers wearing the family colours, and that includes you too," he adds, affectionately. "So get ready to show your knees to the world, and hope they don't freeze off."
"I happen to have very nice knees," Jon says, grinning behind his pillow. "Whereas you, brother of mine, are sadly lacking in that department." He pokes Robb's knees as he speaks, and Robb squirms.
"How dare you?" Robb replies. He rolls over and pins Jon to the mattress. "My knees are the fairest in all of the realm."
It ends, as always, in a tickle war.