This was a different kind of cold. The cold clawed at her skin like it was trying to rip her apart. Her body ached so very suddenly that her muscles seized and she sharply inhaled. It was hard to breathe between chattering teeth. The air felt thinner, each breath less fulfilling than the last.
Green eyes blinked against the frigid wind that blew ruthlessly passed her. Each gust pricked at her skin like tiny needles, causing her face to flush red with the expanding blood vessels beneath her skin. She shivered rather violently and her teeth clicked together in an uneven rhythm as she tried to clench her jaw tighter to stop them from doing so.
"Gorgeous, isn't it?" she heard her father call to her, his voice loud over the rising winds, and her eyes turned to him.
He was a man of short stature, only a few centimeters taller than she. He had a round belly and a pink face, his eyes were framed with crows feet from being crinkled in a merry way. His bellowing laughter followed, the loud, deep, resonant sound breaking over a particularly violent gust.
She was a child of three and ten, standing 160 centimeters, completely unable to see over the sides of the wall of ice. Instead, she and her father had to stand huddled together in one of the many breaks in the structure, only a step or two away from a deadly plummet.
Her father had brought her to castle black, but she'd only ever sat in the Lord Commander's tower, been to the dining hall, the kitchens, and the library. She and her father transported goods from their small, neighboring village to the fortress when the seasons were favorable.
Each time they would travel to the fortress, her father would tell her stories about The Wall. A great barrier of ice with enchantments carved through the layers to keep whatever was on the other side out. She found herself having dreams of the monsters beyond the wall, dreams of the endless white abyss that was hidden by the big block of ice. Never before was she allowed atop the Wall. It had taken quite some convincing for the Lord Commander to allow her and her father to survey the land beyond the Wall from the highest point in the North.
She remembered wishing she could stand atop that mountain of ice and see what was hidden behind it, and yet here she was, brows knitted and arms crossed tightly across her chest in defiant protest. She didn't want to be there now. Now that she knew how cold it was, and how terribly bleak it was beyond the Wall. She had conjured up a fantastical world beyond, a place untouched by man, a landscape unmarred by towers, but all she could see was white, and all she could feel was the blistering cold.
She exhaled and felt her hot breath warm the scarf over her nose and mouth momentarily before it turned cold and damp. The thick wool of her scarf retained the moisture from each breath she exhaled and became stiff as it froze against her face. Groaning, she cupped her hands over the offending material to try and alleviate some of the chill. She squinted her eyes and shifted closer to her father.
He patted her on the shoulder and pulled the cloth of his own scarf from around his mouth. Snow got caught in his beard and he laughed again, a great booming sound that made the corners of her mouth turn up. Her father was always a very jolly man, he saw the bright side in everything and everyone. He taught her to be optimistic as well, however, she had hit a rebellious streak a few months back and turned sour to everything he tried to teach her. His wife assured him that all girls go through a similar phase, and that when she grew older, she'd come to dote on her father again.
"It's gorgeous," he signed, the air escaping him leaving him in a thick cloud, "I've read books and books on the endless white, but it doesn't do it justice."
"It's unnerving," she mumbled, and he chucked. She opened her eyes wide, then squinted again, as though she could achieve a further line of sight by doing so. "And bleak, and plain and dull." She pulled her scarf down around her neck and turned to her father fully. "I want to go back down. It's too cold up here."
"Alright, then," Her father nodded and lead her back towards the lift the Brothers in Black had fashioned.
One of the Brother's watching the wall held his hand out for her to take. Her small hand slid into his much larger one as he assisted her to safely board the lift, then extended the same courtesy for her father and nodded his head at the thanks he received. As soon as the gate was latched shut, the lift trembled and groaned before beginning the slow, steady descent back to the ground.
Safely on the ground again, she was lead through the groups of men that stared at her as she passed. Some looked away as soon as they made eye contact with her, others smiled, others raised their eyebrows. She pulled her scarf back over her nose and her hood over her head, the men in the yard were new recruits, not the Brothers she had grown familiar with. Some of them were still wearing the clothes they were brought in, not yet donning black. She shifted uncomfortably under their gaze until her father's heavy arm settled on her shoulders and pulled her in closer to him. She trained her eyes on the ground and successfully avoided eye contact with any of the other Brothers.
She never understood how her father remembered his way around the fortress. Every hallway looked the same, every door looked the same, the same cold, stone floors ran throughout the bottom floor of the entire structure, it seemed like an endlessly confusing maze. Their footsteps echoed through the darkened halls of Castle Black until they stood in the Lord Commander's study.
"How was the top of the wall, Charlotte?" Lord Commander Mormont's voice rumbled through her and made her skin prickle. Her father pulled her hood off her head and she flushed scarlet for forgetting her manners but she tried to push her nerves aside by presenting a brilliant smile that spread over her face when her eyes made contact with the Lord Commander's..
The lines in his face were deep and unforgiving, showing his age and the hardships he may have faced in life. His brows always seemed knit, two deep wrinkles broke his face between them. His jaw was square and tight, however, the corners of his lips turned up, if only slightly, when he caught sight of her smile.
"Awful," she answered honestly, and jumped when Mormont barked out a laugh.
"Aye, it isn't very pleasant up there." he stroked his short beard before standing from his desk and clapping arms with her father, his large hands wrapping around her father's wrist, and her father's mirroring over the Lord Commander's leather gauntlet . "And, Aland, how was the wall to you?"
"Kind, Lord Commander, kind and awe inspiring," Aland replied wistfully, his own eyes shimmering with laughter. "Cold as hell, though."
"It's only going to get colder, summer will not last forever. We thank you and your village for sharing your harvest with Castle Black."
Her father beamed at the Lord Commander and clapped him on the shoulder. "We need not extra, it would only go to waste. We thank you for the Brother's protection"
Lord Commander Mormont nodded and straightened his doublet before taking three brisk, booming steps towards where his cloak hung on the wall. His footfalls echoed off the hollow sounding wound floor and the stone walls. He swung his cloak up and around his shoulders and fastened it under his chin. His shoulders doubled in broadness under the heavy furs of his cloak, and Charlotte stared up at him in awe.
She admired the Lord Commander, respected everything he stood for. Castle Black was known to have some unsavory, unruly men, and it took a strong leader to keep them from killing each other. She couldn't imagine how he groomed the many criminals that were exiled to the walls to be honorable men whose sole purpose was protecting the realm. Her father often times tried to convince her that all men were good, even if they had made mistakes in life. Aland assured his young daughter that in the darkest times, even the worst of criminals would help his fellow man.
"Come," Commander Mormont held the door open for the two of them, and she followed behind her father.
Though Charlotte had often times felt unease at Castle Black, She never felt fear in the walls of the fortress when the Lord Commander was escorting her and her father through the dark halls. She trailed close behind them, listening to their loud footsteps, the occasional creak of wood, the sound of the Lord Commander's sword as it bounced at his hip. She held her breath and shut her eyes momentarily and heard the men in the yard sparring, she heard Ser Alliser Thorne's voice shouting at them. Inhaling slowly, she opened her eyes in time to collide with her father's back.
The man stumbled forward and the Lord Commander steadied him with another barking laugh.
"Careful, my love," her father chided, "almost knocked me over."
Her face reddened and she smoothed her hands nervously over the front of her cloak and dress, "I'm sorry, pa, my mistake."
Three years had passed, and every year, a few times a year, she visited the wall with her father. She had grown use to the looks some of the men gave her and became accustomed to shaking the uncomfortable feeling off. Instead, she stayed close to the Brothers that she knew were loyal and trustworthy, and avoided the new recruits until Alliser Thorne had beaten them into submission.
She sat tall upon the seat of her father's wagon, her gloved fingers gripping the reins of the two horses that fronted the small cart of goods hitched behind her. The wind was chilly, but the sun shone down on her and warmed the top of her head. It wasn't unbearably cold, the snow had melted recently and there were wonderful colors dancing over the wet, dewy grass that had emerged from the suffocating snow that had littered the hills and fields between her village and Castle Black.
Charlotte scanned the land ahead of her, she could see Castle Black in the distance, beyond the dewy hills and amidst a thick fog. She pushed her wild curls out of her face and huffed.
Her father wasn't well enough to make the journey with her this year. He had fallen ill the last time it snowed. It seemed summer really was coming to an end, after years of lukewarm weather and good fortune, their harvest was less and less with each passing year. Her offer to the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch was dwindling, barely enough to feed the castle for a week.
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and pulled her cloak a little tighter around her. Her eyes shifted from ahead of her to the quiver at her hip, the small short sword that lay across her lap, and the bow at her feet. It was dangerous for a woman to travel alone, especially with supplies at her back, and she knew little of how to defend herself. The stretch of road from her village to Castle Black was not a well traveled road. It was rare that people ventured this far north, unless they were being transported to The Wall.
A violent shiver traveled up her spine when her ears caught the sound of hooves behind her, many hooves. Her horses started to get restless and jolted forward a little. She gripped the reins tighter and pulled them back into a slow trot, as her father's cart would not be able to handle the bumps on the road at a higher speed.
Charlotte stole a glance over her shoulder and caught sight of a rider in all black. A Brother. A sigh escaped her and she pulled her horses to the side of the road to allow the Brother to pass. Behind him were a few more riders. She squinted to get a better look at all of them and felt goosebumps erupt over her skin when her squinting eyes landed on a large, white direwolf. It trotted beside the skittish horses, large red eyes locked with hers and she swallowed thickly. Her shoulders trembled and she scooted higher in her seat, her fingertips ghosting over the hilt of her short sword.
More men came into view as their horses rounded the last hill before reaching where her cart stood. She stiffened and thought about abandoning her goods and hiding, but the riders must have already seen her, that wolf had already seen her.
"M'Lady," the Brother called out as he approached her, slowing his horse to a trot before coming to a stop just behind her cart. Her lower lip trembled and a lump formed in her throat. She parted her lips to reply shut her mouth as soon as another man's horse trotted up right beside her and caught her eye.
He was a half man. Even on a horse, it was easy to see. Her eyebrows drew together as he neared until he was eye level with her. She looked the half man over and cleared her throat.
"Good morning," she greeted weakly, her voice cracked and betrayed her. Her fear seemed apparent, as the imp's face softened considerably while looking upon her.
"My lady," the half man started, tilting his head toward her as he held his hand up for the party to stop. Two guardsmen rode up alongside the imp and stopped just behind him, the Brother re-adjusted himself in his saddle as the other horses neared and came to a stop as well. The wolf, however, did not.
He circled her cart, sniffing her wares and startling her horses. The two beasts grew restless, whinnied at the large wolf, and pawed the ground nervously. She shifted her gaze from the half man and gripped the hilt of her sword, standing from her seat to try to ward off the dire wolf with her height. Her hands trembled and she tried to stand a bit straighter, fingers curling tightly around the tightly wrapped handle of her sword.
"Ghost!" the voice started her and she whipped around, dropping her short sword. The direwolf shrunk away from the carriage and horses and obeyed the call.
A young man rode up to sit alongside the Brother in black. His cloak was long and heavy, light colored furs lined his shoulders and his dark hair fell in curls around his face. Stormy gray eyes looked bright in the sunlight, she only caught sight of them for a second before he looked away a beat after their eyes locked. The half man cleared his throat and she glanced at him again.
"You won't need that, I assure you," He stated, motioning to her sword. The man spoke with a high accent, he was very clearly noble, and the men beside him wore golden armor with a lion on the breast and long red capes. They did not look like they were dressed for the cold of the North, but their helmets hid their eyes and their mouths were drawn in a tight line.
"You're Tyrion Lannister," she breathed, suddenly bowing her head. Her curls fell over her shoulders and hung over her face and the imp laughed, she straightened up at the sound and blushed. Ladies don't bow. She was sure her mother would have rolled over in the grave if she'd known Charlotte had bowed instead of curtsying like she'd been taught.
"You know of me? What an honor." he jested and dismounted his horse. "The lady knows me!" he called to the other men over his shoulder. The little man offered a hand up to her as a silent request for her to dismount her wagon. She eyed the extended hand, chewed her lower lip, and squared her shoulders. Charlotte let her gaze shift to the other men that accompanied the Lannister. The Brother, two knights, and a stranger. She swallowed thickly again and took the short man's hand, sliding down from her cart.
Her feet sank into the mud. A couple horses came up the rear and it was clear they were more men for The Watch. They had their hands tied in front of them, and their eyes looked her over. A weak smile spread across her lips and she idly fingered her curls, she felt awkwardness and apprehension rise within her when they did not return her smile and she turned her back to them to try to resolve the mounting discomfort that clouded her.
"Where could a great beauty like you headed?" Tyrion inquired, his voice laced with curiosity. "It's dangerous on the Kingsroad, especially dangerous for a pretty girl."
Charlotte frowned at his comments."I'm headed to Castle Black, my father normally accompanies me for the journey, but I'm afraid he isn't well."
She heard one of them men shifting in his saddle, leathers creak, and the low squelch of mud under boots. "And he let you go alone?"
She turned to watch the man with curly hair and gray eyes walk towards her. His deep voice rumbled from the pit of his chest and caused her breast to warm. His eyebrows were drawn tightly together, his mouth in a frown. She chewed her lower lip as he approached. He was much taller than she was, his broad shoulders were covered in furs, and he held himself with an air of importance. She tilted her chin to the ground and lowered her eyes, unsure of how to react to the approaching stranger. He must have sensed her unease and immediately halted. He raised his hands in front of him, to show her he didn't intend harm.
She glanced up at him through her thick black lashes and parted her lips to respond to him.
"We're headed to Castle Black," the Brother interjected, his eyes were forward. He sat atop his horse rigidly, his hair pulled back from his noble face. He had high eyebrows and dark brown hair. His cheekbones were pronounced and his chin was pointed and covered in a layer of har. "We'll escort you the rest of the way there."
"Splendid idea!" Tyrion quipped, "Would you mind, my lady, if I rode beside you on your cart, a horse's saddle can only be so forgiving, I'm afraid."
"Yes." her voice came a bit stronger than before as she pulled her eyes away from the taller man beside her, "I mean no, I wouldn't mind," she swallowed, "Of course, my lord."
The half man chuckled and set forth to climb up onto the carriage with some difficulty, given his height. She climbed up after him, however, her left foot slipped when she braced her weight against it. The mud had slickened the bottom of her boot, but she felt a set of hands grip her waist to steady her. She stole a look over her shoulder to see gray eyes staring up at her from under brows drawn tightly together.
He eased his hands away from her when she righted herself and pulled herself up onto the platform of her wagon. Turning to give thanks, she watched him trudge back to his horse and hull himself atop the beast with little difficulty.
Charlotte settled into the seat and the imp took the seat beside her. His body was pressed close to her own and she shifted uncomfortably. Tyrion did not seem to notice her discomfort and spoke to her of charming things. He told her stories of the south, of how it was much warmer, much sunnier, much brighter, greener, more pleasant. Better. He would pause to politely ask her if she had ever traveled south, though wouldn't give her a moment edgewise to respond.
"Keep your wolf at your side, Jon," she heard the Brother command. She glanced over her shoulder to see the curly haired man nod, before calling to his wolf.
Jon. Her mind mulled over his name, took in his face. His eyes caught hers and she sucked in a sharp breath because this time, he did not look away.
He was young, about her age, maybe a year older. His brow was stern, he had a square jaw and she could tell he was clenching his teeth. She stared into his eyes from over her shoulder, and her mouth stretched into a small smile when she noticed red in his cheeks. He was nervous. Charlotte found it charming. Her eyes dropped to his mouth, his full lips were turned into a frown. He certainly was handsome. She felt her heart beat hard in her chest. Her mouth went dry while she watched his adam's apple bob when he swallowed.
"Jon!" the Brother scolded, and the boy jumped, his eyes breaking away from her face, "Your wolf," the Brother reiterated.
"Ghost, to me" Jon commanded, his voice deep and strong and it made a pit form in her belly.
"You're taken with the bastard?" Tyrion's voice was low, only she could hear.
"What?" Her face flushed bright.
"The bastard, Jon Snow," Tyrion smirked up at the woman beside him. He patted her on the thigh in an effort to ease her embarrassment but it only caused her cheeks to redden more. He drew his hand away from her and cleared his throat, "My apologies, that was entirely too familiar of me. Such a mistake won't happen again, my lady."
She cast a look over her shoulder at Jon, before shifting in her seat and pulling her hood up over her head.
"Not to worry, Tyrion Lannister," she responded, and he frowned at the sound of his name on her lips, "No offense was taken."
"Good," he stretched in the seat beside her casually. Tyrion laced his fingers behind his head and peered up at her hooded head. "Too bad, though,"
She frowned and glanced at him quizzingly
"About the bastard, I mean." he continued.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"He's going to take the black, my dear." he sat up straight, "Man shall take no wife, father no children," his hand circled in the air, in a 'and so on and so forth' motion. She laughed, and it brought a wide smile to Tyrion's face.
"Why would I sulk about that? Being a man of the Night's Watch is a great honor," she responded.
"An honor?" he scoffed, "Most of the men in the Night's Watch are criminals, my dear. They are exiled here to keep them away from the good people of the larger cities."
"Yes, though, they serve an important purpose. Without the Brothers, we would be completely vulnerable to any attacks from beyond The Wall. They're salient people, Lord Tyrion, criminals or no."
He hummed and leaned forward now. He seemed to be having a hard time finding a comfortable spot on the bench beside her. "Some are rapers, murderers, even."
She laughed again, "Most men are rapers and murderers," she responded casually, turning to face the imp. He was looking her over. His eyebrows were drawn together, it was an expression she was familiar with. Most people she came across looked at her with that perplexed look across their features. "What?"
"You make a good point, surprising, for a farmer's daughter"
"I'm not a farmer's daughter."
"But you're carrying harvest goods, you're dressed in a frock, your cloak is plain…"
"Yes," she started, then sighed. "Not my harvest, not my father's harvest. I live in a small village and we have large and fertile fields. My father is good at convincing the people of our village that we need not more than we need, and that we should share with those who protect us. And the frock," she said with distaste, "I always dress simply when going to Castle Black." she smiled, "Rapers and murderers, remember?"
"They aren't all rapers and murderers," Jon spoke from right beside her, and felt herself go rigid. She glanced over her shoulder at him and the air felt thinner. She felt her stomach flip and she drank in the sight of him.. She could see the shadow of facial hair on his chin, the gray of his eyes, the tight frown he wore. Charlotte nodded in agreement to the boy beside her.
"That's true, why, Jon Snow here is no criminal. Taking the Black to protect the Realm of Men was a choice all his own." Tyrion's voice swelled with each word, feigning grandeur with his tone.
"That's very honorable, Jon Snow," Charlotte chirped, nodding her head to the boy before turning to face forward again.
"I thought women weren't allowed at Castle Black," the man beside him hissed.
They sat in a large hall with rows of tables. At the head of the room, one long table sat five men and one woman. She sat beside the Lord Commander, her small stature barely reaching the Lord Commander's mid chest. Her shoulders shook with laughter. She seemed much more comfortable now that she wasn't out on the road. Her presence seemed to swell around her.
"Women are allowed at Castle Black," another said from his other side, "They just aren't allowed to stay."
"Women can stay, I've seen it before, they just aren't allowed to talk to the men."
"Well if they cannot talk to the men, why is the Lord Commander talkin' with her?"
"Don't be stupid," a third man chimed in, "Of course the men can talk to her, they just can't fuck her."
Jon looked her over from over the rim of his horn of ale. She had pale skin, like most people of T North, freckles splashed over her cheeks and neck, as far as to the top of the frock she wore. He gulped his ale and brought his eyes to her own. She wasn't looking at him, instead, her eyes swept through the sea of men before her. She had the lightest green eyes he'd ever seen. They were wide, doe like, and framed with dark, thick lashes. Her delicate, pale eyebrows arched gracefully, and her cheeks were flushed. Her lips were full, but chapped. He had noticed they were chapped on the road, rosey red and raw.
Jon put his horn on the table and jumped at the laugh that sounded next to him.
"Strawberry blonde?" the man next to him snorted, "It's orange. Her hair is orange."
"It's not orange!" another protested, stealing a glance at the girl seated at the head table. "It's peachy, light red, it's strawberry blonde. You've heard of it. Some of the girls in the north have strawberry blonde hair."
"That's the queerest thing I've ever heard."
"It's true! Isn't it, bastard? Girls in Winterfell have strawberry blonde hair, don't they?"
Jon glanced at the man beside him. He was a greasy looking man, he chewed with his mouth open and he had foam from his ale stuck to his mustache.
"Aye, strawberry blonde," Jon confirmed, looking to the head table, only to see that her impossibly green eyes were staring right at him. A curl of peachy blonde hair had fallen in front of her face and she brushed it away with a flick of her fingers. He almost choked on his food as her eyes lit up and a smile broke over her face. She laughed then and the hall seemed to hush at the sound. It was like music, he could barely process the sound of it.
Jon had never been good at dealing with woman. He often found himself tongue tied and would stammer a quick salutation before making a hasty retreat. His brother had always been better at talking with girls, and most of the ladies of Winterfell followed him around in packs. Jon looked down into his horn and took a long swig from it. A hand came down hard on his back, and this time he choked. The liquid splashed up on his face and the men around him laughed.
He turned around to face Tyrion, who looked apologetic. "My apologies," he offered, "But it seems that the Lord Commander has given me permission to go up to the top of the wall with a few of the men who will be patrolling tonight. Would you like to come? It could prove to be interesting. I hear there will be another joining me."
"I'm sure that I'll see the top of the wall soon enough," Jon retorted and Tyrion grinned.
"But," his voice dropped low so only Jon could hear him. His hand rested on the boy's shoulder as he coaxed him to lean in close, "Will you get to see the top of the wall with the great beauty of the north again?" his eyebrows raised and the half man took a step back.
Jon looked dazed by the man's words and Tyrion gave a curt nod, "I do not think this opportunity will present itself again, Jon Snow."
He turned forward once more and saw her green eyes were fixed upon him again. With a coy smile plastered on her lips, one eyebrow arched higher than the other as though she was questioning him. He held her gaze for as long as she'd have it, only breaking his eye contact when her eyes fluttered shut and she reopened them to gaze upon the Lord Commander's face.
"-I think we all would." the sounds of the hall came roaring back, flooding his hearing with the loud laughter and jeering of the men around him.
"Aye, I'd take a piece, I'd take more than a piece. I'd take the whole pie."
"Lord Commander would cut your head off," a laugh resounded around the table and the three men leaned in closer. In a lower voice, the same one slurred, "And not because you broke your oath. I bet he takes that pie all for himself."
"She seems cozy up there, laughin' at his jokes. I bet he's been gettin' that pie since she first came 'ere years ago."
"She's been here before?"
"Aye, every year since she was a wee lass."
"He's a lucky man," they sat back and Jon rose from the table. The three men looked up at him before continuing their conversation, unperturbed by him taking his leave.
He straightened himself a little when he saw the Lord Commander up ahead, his hand on the shoulder of the woman he and his uncle had escorted into Castle Black. For a moment, Jon considered turning back. He wondered if the Lord Commander would question why a new recruit would be joining them atop the wall.
Tyrion stood on her other side and smirked when he saw Jon approaching.
"The night is calm, Jon Snow," Tyrion called to him, "Lord Commander Mormont thinks we'll be able to see quite a ways with a moon like this." the half man tugged his cloak tightly around himself, "Bloody cold, though."
"It's colder at the top." she muttered.
The three of them looked at Charlotte and she flushed red with the attention. Jon watched as she pushed her wild curls away from her face, fingers smoothing through the tangles near the bottom. The Lord Commander's hand moved to the small of her back, and Jon's eyes followed, but the older man didn't make any comment on Jon's attendance.
The four of them turned to the lift, and Jon climbed in after them. They began their ascent and Jon took notice that the Lord Commander's hand stayed at the small of her back. Tyrion looked between Jon and the couple and raised his eyebrows, but remained quiet.
Mormont helped Charlotte out of the lift and escorted her to the edge of the wall. She hadn't grown since the last time she was at the top, but she wasn't as cold. The night was calm, no wind blew past them and there was no new snow falling. The only sound she could hear was the crunching of the men's boots on the icy path behind her, and the crackling of the torches that lit The Wall.
It was then that she could appreciate the beauty her father spoke of the last time they were on The Walll. She gazed beyond. The moon illuminated the snow below them, making it sparkle. The mountains in the distance were dark and foreboding. Her breath hitched and she placed a hand on her chest, as though to try and console her pounding heart.
"Rather dull, not what I was expecting." Tyrion's voice broke the silence and Charlotte snorted.
"I said that when I was three and ten," she mused, her voice had a sing song quality to it and Tyrion's smile faltered upon realizing that she was comparing him to a child.
Tyrion coughed, "Lord Commander, if I may?" he motioned towards one of the devices that was anchored to the wall, a large wooden platform that jutted off the edge of the wall. Mormont glanced at Charlotte and he caught her nod before he followed Tyrion to the platform a short distance away.
Jon stepped up next to Charlotte and she heard him suck in a breath. She eyed him carefully, a half smile tugging at her lips. She watched him take in the sight behind the wall, waiting for his reaction. Charlotte jumped when he spoke.
"What are you looking at?" he asked gruffly, his voice low and quiet. He was looking right at her then, his eyes swept over her face, which flushed at his words.
She clasped her hands tightly in front of her, and turned to face him. "Does everyone call you Jon Snow?"
"I'm called Jon Snow," he answered simply and she frowned.
"No one calls you Jon? Just Jon?"
"People seem to like to remind me that I'm a bastard, even when they're not calling me bastard." he answered simply, pulling his eyes away from her and turning them back towards the endless frozen wasteland beyond the wall.
He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. Jon wasn't use to women taking the time to talk to him. He often avoided interacting with them at all costs.
"Why?"
He seemed startled by her question and shrugged his broad shoulders in response.
"Jon Snow sounds important," she whispered and he glanced at her then, his eyebrows raised, silently asking her to continue. "Everyone here keeps whispering about Jon Snow."
He flushed a dark red at that and awkwardly adjusted the sword on his hip.
"What's your name?" he asked and she smiled wide.
"You're the first one to ask me that, Jon Snow." she turned back towards the edge of the wall and peered over it. The height of it made her head swim and she had to shut her eyes tightly to steady her head. "Charlotte."
"Charlotte." He repeated, "Charlotte what?"
"Just Charlotte." she answered, opening those brilliant green eyes to look him over.
"What house are you from?"
"No great house, Jon Snow."
He frowned then, his eyebrows set in a hard line. "Just Jon. You can call me Jon."
"Just Jon." She repeated and giggled. It was a whisper of a sound, but it made Jon's mouth turn upward. His eyes crinkled at the edges and she smiled back brilliantly. "You're very pretty when you smile." she commented and his smile immediately dropped.
"I'm not pretty."
"Handsome, then." She amended and his flush deepened.
"I'm not handsome, either."
"You are." she insisted.
"You're a lot more talkative than you were earlier." Jon bit and she shot him a look that he wasn't sure how to interpret. It seemed somewhere between amusement and irritation.
"I'm not nervous now."
"And you were nervous before?"
"Wouldn't you be nervous if you were a woman surrounded by strange men?"
He didn't have a response and instead her frowned. Jon kept his eyes forward and tried to ignore the feeling of her staring.
"It's getting colder," Mormont approached them and took Charlotte's hand to lead her back to the lift. "Time to retire for the evening. Are you leaving in the morning, m'lady?"
"I am," she affirmed and squeezed the Lord Commander's hand before he released it to allow her onto the lift.
Jon's eyes followed them and the imp patted his arm. "Don't look so troubled, my boy."
He looked to Tyrion and set his mouth in a hard line. "I'm not troubled."
"Who are you trying to convince?" Tyrion countered and Jon only grunted in response. They loaded into the lift and didn't say another word until they hit the ground.
"Where will the lady be sleeping?" Tyrion asked Mormont.
The Lord Commander looked the imp over before clearing his throat. His hand squeezed Charlotte's shoulder protectively before nodding towards the library. "She sleeps in the room next to Maester Aemon's. The door locks."
"Ah, very good." Tyrion mused, watching as the girl's eyes gazed at Jon from under heavy lids. He watched the boy shift under her gaze. Jon attempted a smile but failed to meet her eyes.
Tyrion broke their silence, "Goodnight, M'lady…"
"Charlotte," She quipped, curtsying to the half man, "Goodnight, Lord Tyrion."
The imp nodded and joined his awaiting guardsmen. Her eyes lifted to stare forward at the retreating figure of Jon Snow, "Goodnight, just Jon," She called, and laughed as he paused mid step, shook his head, and set his foot down heavier in the snow than he had the last.
A/N: thank you for sticking with me. I'm aware that this chapter could use some work. Unfortunately, I'm a bit rusty, it's been a few years since I've written anything. I've found that starting a story is harder than finishing one.
Again, thank you for your patience. I hope you continue on. I promise things will get better. Kisse