Jon

"The book you wanted, sir."

Lord Commander Jon Snow looked up, awakened from his trance. Sleep was scarce over the past days. Samwell Tarly stood in the doorway, his chubby fingers wrapped around a copy of The Lineage and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms.

"Sam, don't call me sir. It makes me feel uncomfortable," Jon spoke softly.

"Right," Sam bit his lip and waddled over, holding the book out for Jon. "The book you wanted, m'Lord," he teased with a chuckle.

Jon didn't have the energy to retort, "thanks, Sam." He took the book and set it on the table next to his half eaten venison and oats. On a bed beside him laid the mysterious girl who came to their rescue two nights ago.

"Will she be all right?" Sam asked, nervously.

Jon studied the girls body, same as he'd been doing for the past hours. Maester Aemon had dressed her wounds. They were able to remove the arrow from her shoulder without much trouble, but the sword blow she took to her side was a bit trickier. Her skin was blue and broken ribs were suspected. Fortunately, the fever she had been fighting was starting to recede and the Maester said that if it continued, she'd most likely pull through.

"Maester Aemon thinks so," Jon replied as he stood up to walk over the the bed. He brushed the girls long black hair from her face and touched her cheek. It seemed to be a normal temperature. The girl twitched and mumbled something inaudible. She had been in and out of sleep every few hours. Each time Jon hoped she would give them some clue as to who she was or why she was here, but Maester Aemon had been giving her milk of the poppy and most of her words made no sense.

Jon thought back to the last useful thing she said. She claimed her name was Cerah Baratheon, but he had never heard of her before in all his studies of the Seven Kingdoms. The only lead he had was something Ser Janos Slynt said. He told Jon of a rumor that once spread through the Seven Kingdoms. Not long after Robert Baratheon settled into his throne and married Cersei Lannister, the Queen bore a child. Twins, a girl and a boy, just like her and her brother Jamie. The capitol celebrated the birth of the healthy prince and princess but three days later tragedy struck: the new born girl died suddenly. The Grand Maester said it was a blood problem, a common thing amongst twins, and there was nothing they could have done to prevent it. Janos recalled outrage in the city. No one was allowed to look upon the child's body or attend the funeral.

The city, like any other event, quickly forgot. And life went on. Janos added that the boy died of a fever at age three. Rumor had it that Cersei grew with child before her wedding day. A birth cursed by the Gods, they said.

Jon settled back into his chair and opened the book, flipping through it until he found the pages with the great stag printed on them. He scrolled through the lines and lines of Baratheon lineage until he found the most recent generation. The twin's birth was sandwiched in between Renly's and Joffery's.

"What's it say?" Sam inquired, sitting himself next to Jon.

"Two twins are born on this day," Jon traced the line with his finger. "The boy is given the name Tristan. The girl, a still born, is not named and buried in the Baratheon crypt with her ancestors. Tristan dies of a winter flu during his third year."

There was a knock at the door. "Curious story, Lord Snow. Very curious," Master Aemon commented.

"It's settled then. She's not a Baratheon as she claims to be, right?"

The Maester moved to the girl's bedside and began fiddling with medicine vials and bandages. "Perhaps. But we must also remember how all words are just stories, easily exaggerated, often forged. What we observe with our eyes are the only truths we have."

Jon watched as he tended to each of her bandages. She certainly looked like she was Baratheon and Lannister. The child spoke of in the book would be about seventeen now and that's exactly how old this girl looked. Her hair was dark Baratheon brown, reaching halfway down her back. Jon thought back to last year when the royal family had visited Winterfell. This girl's body was tall and thin, like Cersei Lannister's. Her eyes were Lannister green and her cheekbones were well defined. She looked impeccably like a member of their royal family.

The only difference were her scars. The injuries she obtained defending the Night's Watch were not her first. All over her body small blemishes were etched into her skin. The most impressive was on her back, where a dark pink scar stretched from her neck to her hip. Royal ladies were taught to hold needles, not swords.

It remained a mystery.

"I think I need some air. Send for me if she wakes up," Jon grabbed his black, fur lined coat that hung by the door. "And don't give her anymore milk of the poppy."

Maester Aemon nodded, respectfully.

There was little light tonight. Only a slice of the moon could been seen through the clouds. The wind howled, sending snow flying through the air. Winter was truly here. The men of the Night's Watch had not seen a snow this high in years, the older brothers said. Three foot tall dunes brushed up against the Wall. They seemed like nothing to the wall's greatness, but to Jon they proved difficult. A path had been cleared that lined the main castle grounds together, but snow was starting to build up on those too. Jon followed the path to the stables. He climbed up on top of the stable where he first saw Cerah. Peering down, his mind replayed what little of the fight he witnessed. One moment the girl was leaping through the air, the next seven men were dead. Never in his life had he seen someone with such a skill.

Nothing made sense.

Jon had prevented his mind from wandering back to the attackers. He still needed to figure out who they were and what they wanted. He like the idea that they were just common thieves, but there was no reasoning in that. Common thieves attack taverns. Men who venture north to the wall come with a purpose.

His greatest hope was that Cerah knew the truth.

A layer of snow had collected on Jon by the time Sam came stumbling up.

Sam hunched over, gasping for air, "Its... it's the girl. Shes...s-ss-shes woken up."