Pretty Well, all Things Considered

Bran frowned and put down his book when Jon entered his chambers. "Of to the Wall, Jon? I'll be the only Stark here soon, other than Rickon. And he's... well, he's a baby."

"You were a baby not so long ago, Bran! And look at you now!" Jon replied, sitting down next to Bran. While Jon and Robb had always been close, it was Bran who most resembled Jon of Catelyn's children. Not physically, as he was all Tully in his coloration. Still, he had the wry sense of humor that Ned had had (allegedly) in his childhood, but which had been beaten out of him by years of teenage brooding and the friendship of a loudmouthed Baratheon.

"Anyways, no, Bran. I won't be heading to the Wall. I've decided to go South with Father. Assuming he agrees to it, and Father says he will, I'm to be Ser Jaime's squire." Jon continued.

Bran looked up at him, shocked. "You're too old to squire... but, I suppose you did impress him with your training, didn't you?" Bran looked down, frowning slightly. "I suppose that means you'll be a knight eventually. That's much better than the Wall."

"Well, Bran, if I do become a knight, I know who I would choose to squire for me. Keep learning all you can up here. You and Robb are the Starks in Winterfell now. Listen to your Mother, but listen to your heart as well. She loves you and has come to love our people, but she isn't a northerner like you and Robb. I'll write to you from King's Landing, so write me back... Or write Arya, anyways. Lady Catelyn will allow that."

They hugged again for a time, chatting about their dreams, before Jon left to allow Bran to prepare. He only had about an hour to get ready to see the King's Party off.