To clear up a few things, the ages of the Stark children at the start of this fiction are going to be the same as their ages at the start of the television series.
That means Jon and Robb are supposed to be 17(I am going to make them both 18 just for plot purposes), Sansa is 13, Arya is 11, Bran is 10, and Rickon is 6. And in the start of the series, Joffrey is 16 in case you were also wondering (I got this from GOT wiki). Aurora, my OC, was 17 in the previous chapter and she is only a few months younger than Jon and Robb, so they will all be 18 by the time the King shows up in Winterfell. Now that I have cleared that up, here we go! I don't own anything from this franchise or the book franchise, just my OC and this dandy fanfiction story.
WARNING: This fan fiction contains mature language and mature subject matter.
Chapter 2 A Screamer
Glancing around the rolling landscape, Aurora shut her eyes at the comforting familiarity of the cold northern plains and basked in the crisp bite of the icy air on her face. Nothing could compare to the robust beauty of her Northern homeland, not even the bright blue skies and elaborate buildings of King's Landing.
Up ahead, Wintertown and the strong walls of Winterfell came into sight as Aurora opened her light eyes and sighed deeply. Her mother and she had moved to the nearly unoccupied village right outside of Winterfell's walls to live year-round after her father had died from a severe frost when she was only seven years of age. Not many occupied the village during the summer years, although it was crowded during winter years. Growing up into a beautiful young woman in this fairly unoccupied village in the shadow of Winterfell's grand walls, Aurora had managed to keep herself from getting too close to people. Aurora and her mother did visit inside the walls of Winterfell for special occasions, but for the majority of her maturation, Aurora had been kept safe from the stares of men by her mother's avoidance of Winterfell; her father had, after all, succumbed to the frost within those safe walls. And thus, her mother was reluctant to set foot within those very walls since.
Aurora had been perfectly content with living a secluded life right outside of Winterfell. Her mother, however, thought it better to send her to King's Landing after her 16th name day. Her mother thought that sending her off to King's Landing would secure her a safe and decent future as a handmaiden to royalty. Aurora frowned as she remembered her common position as a kitchen servant. Her mother's plan most certainly did not work out for the better. Aurora had never learned to read or write properly, so when she arrived in King's Landing a year ago, she was thrown into the kitchens and told to organize food and scrub pots and dishes. While in King's Landing, Aurora avoided all eyes as best as possible…until that dreadful day a few months ago…Flinching at the memory, the young girl cast her eyes up in an attempt to distract herself from her darkening thoughts. She did not want to remember that horrible day. She did however smile fondly at the memory of Ser Jaime Lannister. She owed the gallant man her life. Were it not for him, she would have been ruined at the hands of the horrible King. To her, that was death; to have something so personal stripped away against one's will. She would rather face a cold, long death in the unforgiving grasp of ice.
Although men and women whispered about the terrible Oathbreaker—the Kingslayer— Aurora had deemed him the only decent man she had ever met thus far. A good, honest man.
Color seeped through Aurora's cheeks as she imagined marriage to Jaime Lannister. It was an impossible fantasy; he was a highborn—a Lannister—and she, a commoner. Besides, he was much older and he had taken a sacred vow as a man of the Kingsguard. She could never have a true relationship with him. It was an immature fantasy indeed. Amused by her own ridiculous thoughts, Aurora laughed internally at the thought of herself in traditional wedding garb. It would most certainly take a grand amount of fitting for the seamstresses to get the fabric at the bust right. The maiden snorted at the thought of her rear bursting through the seams of a fine wedding gown as she tried to settle into a dining chair. The look on her husband's face would be one of true horror indeed. Maybe it's a good thing if I never marry. Hah!
Her carriage halting with a jerking stop, Aurora looked up to see that she was directly in front of Wintertown, settled right next to the reassuring walls of Winterfell. As much as she loved the peacefulness of Wintertown, she yearned to interact with the people of Winterfell. To know what it was like to live within those secure walls. To meet the great Eddard Stark and his family to see if they were as honorable and gracious as the rumors implied. But her mother would never allow it…
Aurora gathered her meager wicker case of belongings and eased herself down from the shaky carriage. Dressed in the same dull grey winter dress and thick fur overcoat she had left for King's Landing in, she returned to her beloved home. Yes, the cold air was indeed a welcome sensation as she made her way to the small log and stone house where she knew her mother would be.
After a good walk along the main path, Aurora stopped in front of a humble and warm looking little dwelling. A peculiar and uncharacteristic chill ran through her spine as she approached the front door to see that it was left slightly ajar, creaking lightly from the push of the cold Northern wind. Aurora's eyes stung from the dry air and anxious anticipation as she slowly pushed the door open. Mother would never be careless enough to leave the door unsealed as thus. When the entry was fully pushed back, Aurora peered inside silently, looking for any sign that her mother was home. Seeing nothing, Aurora ambled up the small stone slab-step into the small house.
"Mother? It's Aurora. I have returned from King's Landing," Aurora called out for her mother as she walked into the house and gently set her wicker case on the shaky old kitchen table. Aurora's mother did not know her daughter would be coming home. After all, Aurora could not write to send her mother a raven. Failing to hear a response, Aurora began to apprehensively head towards the small bedroom which she had shared with mother.
"Mother? Are you in here?" Aurora called out as she entered the tiny room.
Aurora gasped when she saw that all of the bed settings were gone along with all of the other room's furnishings and adornments. Her mother was nowhere to be found. In panic, Aurora ran out back to the small shack beside the house. Before she could tear apart the shack looking for her mother, Aurora was stopped by the familiar voice of a woman.
"Oh, child! You have returned! Come to see your dear old mother? She's head off to live in Winterfell. Went off one day and now prepares food for the Starks. Don't worry yourself, sweet girl, she told me if you returned to direct you to the castle kitchens in Winterfell," the older woman, Rose, informed Aurora while chuckling. Rose was a middle aged woman who had lived in the house next to theirs since before they first moved into Wintertown. The woman was kind up front, but she was quite the gossip when it came to Winterfell affairs. Rose was the sole reason Aurora knew about the rumored honor of the Stark family. And the rumored handsomeness of Eddard Stark's eldest son, Robb and his…other elder son.
"Thank you, Rose! Gods blessings upon you!" Aurora thanked Rose quickly as she dashed back inside to gather her belongings so she could depart to Winterfell. Relieved her mother was unharmed, Aurora hurried to Winterfell's immense entrance. Nearing the gate, she smiled to herself happily. She would finally be able to live within the walls of Winterfell now that her mother had cast aside her irrational fears.
Before she came to the very front of the gate, however, Aurora stopped in her tracks and considered her appearance. Looking down at her form critically, the fur-lined winter coat did well to hide her curvy body. Her face, however, was too exposed for her comfort. Aurora hummed in thought as she pulled the fur-lined hood of her grey coat over her brunette head. This will do quite nicely. The short woman passed the gate with her head slightly lowered, a guard nodding in greeting as she passed by, looking very much like a simple northern villager out and about for the day. That was one positive characteristic of the North; she could wear a thick grey coat outside and wonder freely without receiving much attention. Most colors and designs were the same in Northern clothing. Her coat matched the dull colors of everyone else's faded or undyed clothing. The Northerners, after all, dressed sensibly for the hardy climate. Besides, as she entered, she noticed stablemen and boys were busied and fully occupied with the task of catering to whinnying horses. Children were playing games merrily on the sides of the icy dirt paths. Other villagers and guards were walking around, running errands, or too absorbed in their own work to closely examine her coated and hooded form. In King's Landing, idle walkers and spies had littered the paths of both peaceful gardens and stuffy hallways alike. At least the people of Winterfell were diligently distracted.
Although the kitchens were far from the entrance, she could waltz through Winterfell without being bothered. The wind suddenly picked up and blew a strong gust in her direction. Quick as a mouse, Aurora grasped her hood and lowered her head before the damned thing could fall back. As long as this cursed wind does not spoil my luck. Aurora grimaced.
From what she remembered, the castle kitchens should have been…the girl turned her green eyes to the path in front of her. Aurora caught sight of the simple yet strong stone walls of the castle in the distance. It was in that direction. Determination in her eyes, Aurora quickened her pace in the direction she had chosen.
With each passing guard or villager, the girl lowered her head another degree in nervous reflex. Soon, she regretfully found herself looking at her feet as she walked on, stepping on stones and an occasional dead leaf. Too afraid to lift her head and properly view the path she was committed to, Aurora kept her anxious eyes to the ground beneath her as she carried on in her nervous way. I cannot do this…There are just so many people… I should not have taken this task lightly. The self-conscious girl bit her lip as she unknowingly strolled on past her destination. In fact, the area around her was beginning to become…much more silent. The ground beneath her transitioned from stone and dirt path to dark leafy soil and mossy vegetation. Aurora chanced an ever so slight glance up to see that she was alone in a place she had never seen before.
A great tree with bold leaves of deep red and bark as white as freshly fallen snow was rooted majestically before a shining unfrozen pond. It was an old and wise Weirwood tree. Treading closer to the dignified tree, Aurora noticed the face delicately carved into the pale bark of the tree, tears of crimson sap running dolefully from the eyes.
This was not just any Weirwood tree—it was a sacred Heart Tree—the center of the Godswood in Winterfell. Although a devout believer in the Old Gods, Aurora had not set foot in the Godswood of Winterfell since she was a young child. It was an oddly tranquil forest…She was alone, but she felt as if the eyes of the Old Gods watched over her from all around. Aurora reached out to brush a pale hand against the ashen bark of the Heart Tree. Upon contact with the tree, the young woman felt comforted by the textured feeling of the old wood.
Feeling safe and peaceful surrounded by the sacred calm of the Godswood surrounding her, Aurora gingerly lifted her hood back from her face and rested it on her shoulders. Her long curly light brown locks blew with the wind as she had neglected to braid them that morn. Smiling soundly, she did not care—she felt refuge in the embrace of the forest.
Wanting nothing more than to savor the tranquility of the undisturbed nature around her, Aurora sat carefully on the ground and rested. Somehow, the Godswood felt warm despite the refreshingly crisp winter air. Shrugging off her bulky fur-rimmed coat, she bunched it behind her back and head as she supported them against the Heart tree behind her. The snug fur of the coat felt like a soft pillow as she rested against the solid tree. Her troubles forgotten, the girl closed her pallid eyes and relaxed deeper against the reassuring trunk of the ancient Weirwood. I wish I could just stay here forever. Aurora smiled warmly to herself as she drifted off further into comfort. She was exhausted from her long journey from King's Landing and her failed attempt to find the kitchens. Soon, before she could help herself, she had fallen into a deeply serene slumber against the weeping elder Heart Tree.
Jon Snow somberly eased his way through the dull stone fixings of the castle grounds towards the Godswood. From the side, servants whispered furtively, their acute stares following his form in an accusatory manner as he tried to keep his head high, looking on towards his destination steadily.
"I cannot imagine how Lady Stark can heart having that boy wander the grounds of Winterfell in such a disgraceful manner. A reminder of such betrayal—I could never let such a ghost haunt the halls of my home," His steely grey eyes flickered with hurt momentarily as he heard one of the servants make mention of his shameful status.
Yes, he was the disgrace of the venerable Lord Eddard Stark—a bastard son. He was the ghost that haunted the Lord and Lady Stark as he was a solemn reminder of past unfaithfulness. A Snow, not a true son. Jon thought harshly as he came to a halt, his mind troubled by his infernal last name. No matter how much his father claimed to care for his bastard son, he would never allow the boy to take the name of his half-siblings. He lived among his Stark brothers and sisters, but he would never be one of them. His father welcomed him into the walls of Winterfell, but he would not disgrace his honor to welcome him as a Stark. Thoughts filled with turmoil, Jon failed to notice Robb and Theon approach him from the far side of the courtyard. It was only when a long arm was lunged around his shoulders from behind in a friendly clutch, that Jon was thrust out of his grave ruminations.
"Why such a long face, Jon? Nan been buggering you with her rather dull tales of childhood lore again?" His auburn haired brother teased as he ruffled Jon's dark hair with his fist. "Not even prayer in the Godswood will keep pestering old Nan's stories away," Robb chuckled lightly as he grinned at his glum looking brother.
Jon's downturned lips tugged up a bit, his brooding eyes lightening somewhat. His brow, however, still retained a hint of permanent sorrow as he faced his half-brother Robb.
"No, brother, but at least I will be at peace from your poor jests," Jon joked back as he grinned subtly and returned the favor of ruffling Robb's hair playfully. Robb shook his brother's shoulder rigidly as he directed a false look of offense towards his half-brother. The look didn't last long, however. Robb soon laughed merrily as Jon cracked another minor smile back at him.
Theon Greyjoy, who was standing beside Robb, smirked smugly.
"I'd bet fifty coppers he's so gloomy because he hasn't fucked a girl yet. Or let alone touched one. Poor sap's never wet his sorry prick, so he's going to the Godswood to pray to the Old Gods for a nice, wet cunt for his parched cock," Theon's perverse joke rang quite loudly through the air as Robb shoved him on the shoulder in good humor.
"You do know, Theon, that some men actually keep up good faith and don't waste their leisure time burying their sorry shafts in some poor girl for coin. Those unfortunate girls at the pleasure house have probably had enough of yours by now. And they do need to raise their price to warm a bed with your sad self in it," Robb snickered as Jon smiled at the mention of Theon Greyjoy's consuming and slimy past-time.
"They all cling to my cock like a winter glove would to a hand. You two blokes must envy my sorry shaft. It gets more tender love than you could imagine in an entire lifetime. I am a God to cunts everywhere!" the rugged Greyjoy tilted his head upwards dramatically as he continued his claim of glory to the fairer sex.
"Shame to say, fellows, but more delicate hands have worshipped this wood than that garish old tree you miserably dull fools visit all the time," Theon undulated his hips as he demonstrated his sexual prowess. Robb and Jon both looked at each other and smirked while shaking their heads. Theon Greyjoy was downright amusing in his constant allusion to his twisted conquests and perversions. He was ridiculously lustful—painfully so. Indeed, the Greyjoy ward was an immensely promiscuous beast.
"Well, Theon, almighty God of depravity, if you would kindly excuse us, we are going to go be miserably dull fools and visit the old Godswood," Robb laughed out as he and Jon started towards the passage to Winterfell's Godswood. Theon stared at the two half-brothers with a sly smile.
"I suppose I'll come with you two. My presence will make your boring pastime more exciting. And my worshippers must have their rest before their religious activities resume tonight," Greyjoy replied cheekily as he joined them, a suggestive look gracing his mousy features.
The three walked along past the entrance to the woods in silence as the world grew quieter and quieter the more they neared the clearing of the great Heart Tree.
As they strolled on, Jon stared onward in thought as Robb and Theon began to bicker childishly and veer off to the right as they wrestled. Theon was most likely boasting about his legendary sword once more.
When Jon reached the clearing by himself, he looked up solely at the rich auburn leaves of the Heart Tree. They calmed him as he thought of a warm fire in the middle of the cold winter. In his vision, however, he noticed a form at the base of the tree's pale white trunk. Directing his gaze downwards, Jon gasped in awe.
On the ground before the tree lay the body of the most beautiful creature he had ever beheld. The first thing he noticed was the delicate pale face of the female figure. Her eyes were shut, her dark lashes fanning far over her face, looking full and soft to the touch. Her red lips contrasted dramatically with her unblemished milky white face. Jon inhaled sharply as he noticed the manner in which her red lips were lightly parted. A light dusting of pink spread across the girl's soft cheeks and elegant nose, the only color to grace her skin due to the cold Northern nip of air in which her striking face was exposed to. Long light-brown curls fell around the girl's body, his eyes trailing the stray lock that rested on the rising and falling curve of her bosom.
Jon Snow blushed crimson. He was indeed a virgin, and the sight of her full, round chest aroused unfamiliar thoughts in his mind as he slowly moved his burning gaze further down her filled figure. He swallowed heavily as he moved a bit closer, his dark stormy eyes tracing the dipping feminine curve of her waist as her grey dress hugged her hips tightly. Stopping a few feet before the figure of the girl, Jon examined her closer to confirm whether or not she was real, or just a cruel vision the Gods had placed before him as a bitter reminder that he could never love a woman the way a man should; he could not force himself to selfishly bring Snow sons and daughters into the world. To bring more bastards into the world. Jon blinked, her figure remaining recumbent as he opened his eyes once more. This stunning vision before him was not false. She was a rare beauty if he had ever seen one. The Gods must be cruel.
Suddenly, Jon took note that the girl might be in peril. Jon's cheeks heated once more. Her chest had been moving softly when he had ogled at it before. He frowned at his intrusive observance of the fair maiden. I am a Snow. Looking back over her clothes and face, there were no signs of blood. She is sleeping, Jon confirmed as he kept his eyes locked on the resting maiden below him. The girl looked no older than him, her face quite youthful. And beautiful. Jon scolded himself as he stood captivated by the mysterious girl. He had never seen her before. He was sure if there were such a treasure in Winterfell, she would be well known. She was just…breathtaking. Even with her eyes closed as she slumbered gracefully, she radiated unrivaled loveliness.
As Jon remained entranced by the still view of the enigmatic maiden, the ground lightly sounded from behind him as Robb and Theon emerged from the surrounding forest, wrestling boyishly. The two friends were so caught up in their friendly fight, they failed to regard the scene before the great tree. Jon turned as he quickly interrupted them with a soft comment.
"There is a girl here…She is sleeping, I think," Jon lightly informed the two as they both paused stiffly, Robb's arm still lightly grappled around the Greyjoy's neck. Breaking apart from their rough-housing, the two buffoons came to stand where Jon Snow was settled, turning their eyes upon the girl Jon had spoke of.
As their gazes met the sight before them, they both fell under a spell as Jon had. Robb looked appreciatively at the girl, but he appeared more concerned and baffled than anything. Jon winced noticeably as he glanced at Theon's face. Of course, Theon's eyes fleetingly took in the girl's appearance as he immediately moved on to hungrily scrutinize her coatless body. The sleazy Greyjoy licked his lips, his eyes wild with an appetite.
"What did I tell you? Theon Greyjoy comes along and the Old Gods send a busty beauty down to the land to pleasure his sacred rod. I'm going to fuck that frame bloody against that ugly old tree…I bet she's a screamer," Theon dirtily mused as he kept his lustful eyes on the girl. Robb and Jon frowned at his revolting ideas. It seemed Theon lacked the sense and propriety to question the odd placement of the strange yet attractive young woman before them.
"Theon, the Gods would never lose their compassion and send you any fair damsel. Not even a fair goat to satiate your over-exercised meat. They are not that cruel… And if so, they saved her from immense repulsion by sending her sound asleep, in case you were too caught up in panting to take note of her unconscious state," Robb rolled his eyes as Theon placed his hands on his hips indignantly. He shut his foul mouth, but he continued to drool over the poor brunette's figure shamelessly.
"Robb, have you ever seen her in Winterfell before?" Jon Snow questioned his brother seriously, looking into Robb's thoughtful Tully-colored eyes.
"Regretfully, I've never laid eyes on something this fair before in my life. No, I have never seen her before. She does look like the kind of girl that would be subjected to Theon's type for coin…but not even his likes recognizes her countenance. I do not think she is from here, brother. She is…very beautiful indeed. If she were from Winterfell, we would know about her," Robb rationally examined the girl as he spoke considerately to Jon. The Stark boy was pondering the mystery before them. As the future Lord of Winterfell, Robb wanted to respectfully know all of his people—especially one such as the pleasant vision resting gracefully before them. That is, if this girl were even a subject of Winterfell. They did not recognize her in any manner.
"Well, we must wake her and question her then," Theon smugly smiled as he weaseled his way even closer to her sleeping form. Before he could touch her, Jon lunged forward, grasping his shoulder harshly.
"No," was the simple and stern command Jon barked out as he tightened his grip on the young Greyjoy. His knuckles turned white as he stared Theon down with intense severity. The depraved Greyjoy and Robb just stood dumbly, appalled by Jon's extreme and rare display of spontaneous wrath. Theon's blue eyes looked to Robb as the Stark boy stared back as well, equally taken aback.
As if he had snapped back into reality, Jon's stronghold on Theon's shoulder loosened as he looked down at his feet and cleared his throat. Not wanting suspicion to arise in the two men before him, Jon quickly looked for an excuse for his sudden behavior.
"She's…sleeping," Jon stated as he even tried to convince himself that was the reason he had intervened so passionately. Putting on his stoic mask, Jon raised his head as he conjured up a more confident addition.
"Would we really want Theon's face to alarm her as she wakes and sees the lustful form of a beast before her," Jon quipped as he glanced towards Robb. Seeming to buy his excuse, Robb nodded in agreement with a wolvish smile as Theon mumbled something concerning his "popularity" with the ladies as he backed off and returned to Robb's side bitterly.
"We should wake her, though. It is getting rather late, and the sun will go down soon. If we leave her to slumber she will catch cold out here in the night's chill. We do not know her name or her face either…we should take her to father," Robb's command showed clearly as he assessed the situation and devised the proper course of action with ease. His light eyes serious, the young Wolf faced his bastard brother.
"You will wake her, Jon. You found her first, after all," Robb patted Jon on the back in encouragement as he lightly shoved him towards the girl. Despite Jon's attempt at excuse earlier, Robb knew the look he had seen on his brother's face; he had seen the rare display of emotion on Jon's normally troubled face. His brother liked the girl. Robb knew that Jon had never been with a girl let alone lain with one in fear of shaming her with his bastard title. He knew in his heart that Jon deserved more than anyone the affections of a woman—the love of a family and the feeling of belonging. Despite their father's gracious acceptance of Jon into Winterfell, he knew Jon was forever solemn because he longed to feel unconditional acceptance—the likes of which he had never truly received as he was still burdened with the title of Snow. For some strange reason, Robb felt in his bones that this girl could give his brother exactly the love he needed. Looking up at the Heart Tree, the eldest Stark son thought of the fate which must have brought this girl to Winterfell. The Gods have brought Jon a chance to love and be loved. To be accepted fully with caring warmth and beauty. Robb hoped he was right as he nudged Jon once more.
After being coaxed forward by Robb's light push, Jon stared back silently at his brother as he further approached the young woman's resting body. He was nervous indeed. Girls were not exactly his strong suit. As he moved closer and kneeled right before her, he saw a beauty mark resting on the top of the girl's exposed neck above the high line of the grey winter dress she was clothed in. She was even lovelier from up close. Jon exhaled shakily as he slowly inched closer to the girl, his hand stretching even slower as he reached out to touch her shoulder. Having never touched a woman, Jon wondered if it was even appropriate to place a hand upon her shoulder. Would it be too lewd? Hesitating anxiously, Jon's hand lingered above his destination. Breathing in sharply though his nose, he slowly rested his hand gingerly on the soft shoulder of the girl and shook it lightly. It was so tender and pleasant a feeling, a jolt ran through Jon's arm as he dared to wonder how soft the rest of her body was. As always, Jon blushed at the thought of the fairer sex. After all these years, he was finally touching one…and it set his heart ablaze. He was touching the loveliest woman he had ever laid his eyes upon…Although he had not looked at many girls, he felt it in his heart. The girl shuffled lightly, his hand still on her shoulder. Fearful of the girl waking with him touching her, Jon rapidly relinquished his gentle hand and kept his captivated gaze on the girl, color growing on his cheeks as agony graced his features. He wanted more than anything to touch her again.
When his warm hand lifted from the girl's shoulder, she shuffled once more as a tired moan shot out past her red lips. On the side, Robb gave Theon a stern look as the Greyjoy smirked and opened his mouth to say something. Theon took the hint and kept his obscene words to himself, his smug face still smiling widely as he stared on. His mind was most certainly conjuring warped thoughts.
Suddenly, the beauty turned to the right, rolling towards Jon as she remained in a light sleep. As she rolled, however, her arm reached out towards Jon's kneeling form, coming to rest with the hand ever so lightly on his inner thigh...awfully too close to his…Jon froze. If he moved to back away, her hand would brush him…there. Jon let out a shaky breathe as the closeness of her hand sparked something pleasant in his loins. He felt a twitch down there and closed his eyes tightly. Oh Gods, please don't. Jon grimaced in pain as he tried to keep himself from jerking closer to the girl's hand on his thigh. On the side, Theon cackled into his hand and ran to a nearby tree to hiss in laughter at the poor bastard's predicament. Jon was so deprived and wound up, it was pitiful! Robb watched on, saying nothing as Jon's eyes turned towards him, pleading silently and urgently for help as he tried not to move. For once, Robb was at a loss for words. He did not know what to do. The girl could wake at any moment. This situation was indeed troublesome. Best to let the Gods decide what they will, Robb decided quickly. He wanted to give Jon a chance.
Jon frowned deeply as Robb shook his head silently, refusing to put him out of misery. The girl's fingers were now gently massaging his thigh as she felt around in her light sleep. He choked down a groan.
"These…linens… too…firm…" The girl's soft voice murmured as she sleepily moved her hand around on his thigh, grasping and clutching the fabric of his pants as well as the muscle underneath.
Jon stared on in horror. Her torturous hand thought his thigh was a bed linen…a firm one at that. Her hand kept feeling around. Jon cringed, praying that she would not touch him in the groin. The Gods could not come up with a more cruel punishment.
Suddenly, the hand stopped. Jon almost bucked his hips forward, missing the sensation of her hand's crusade on his thigh. The girl's movements ceased as her eyes shot open.
Jon stared in awe, breathless and hopelessly aroused. The lightest green pools he had ever seen slowly turned to stare at the area where her hand rested and had previously been feeling. Jon held his breath.
Aurora's eyes widened in shock as they came to land upon the sight of her hand touching the strong thigh of a man intimately near his…crotch! This was not a bed linen by any means.
The beauty screamed. Her hand withdrew immediately and she clutched it into a dainty fist. Not knowing who the strange man was or what he was doing, Aurora reacted with her instincts. Her hand had just been too close for comfort to his…his privates. Aurora slammed her tiny balled fist down on his thigh and scuttled back frantically against the pale tree trunk, collecting her fur coat and clutching it tightly against her frame in an attempt cover herself. She heard the man groan in pain, although she was too afraid to chance a look at him. He was probably some ugly, foul old pervert that had tried to grossly fondle her while she slept! Aurora whimpered in horror as she realized in her peripheral vision there were two other men on the side. Too afraid to remain there and ask questions or examine the men closely, she raised herself up and took off running towards the wooded area. Frantic with fear, she failed to notice a stray root sticking out of the soil beneath her. Foot catching against the blasted root, Aurora fell hard, the last thing she saw was the sight of the mossy ground meeting her face as she prayed for Ser Jaime to come and rescue her.
The girl's peridot eyes filled with fear and now that she had rudely awakened, she screamed and slammed her fist into Jon's thigh hard. Her blow was not powerful, but it was enough to shock him as he was temporarily stricken with pain. He grunted as the trembling girl scrambled away with her coat in fear. Before Jon or the others could calm her, the beauty was up and running frantically out of the clearing. She did not make it seven steps with her short legs, however, as she tripped and landed with a thud on the cold ground. Robb and Theon dashed towards the unmoving body of the girl as Jon collected himself and followed.
The girl must have hit her head on the ground, for she was bleeding lightly from a small scrape and she was unconscious, yet breathing. The impact from the ground must have knocked her out.
"We must get her to Maester Luwin," Robb commanded as Jon immediately caught on and lifted her body off the ground. Carrying her in a manner more delicate than even a husband would carry his bride, Jon frowned in concern as he brushed her soft hair from her face and examined the scrape. He rushed forward, Robb directly behind him and Theon trailing with an amused look on his face.
"Told you she was a screamer."
Robb and Jon said nothing in response as they made with haste towards Maester Luwin's quarters, the beauty secured in Jon's careful arms.
Hey! Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. It started off slow, but I picked it up in the end. I feel like Theon is a little lustful clown…I love writing him in as a comic relief…Also, Jon Snow is so innocent, it is pretty painful to write him in any type of sexual situation. Hahaha. I feel evil putting him in that predicament. Anyhow, Ser Jaime won't be showing up in Winterfell for quite a few chapters...but maybe I'll write a little blurb in the next chapter to see how things are going with him in King's Landing. Don't give up hope, JaimexOC fans! I am going to have to develop a year's worth of time between Aurora and the Starks of Winterfell before I get to the King's visit. Still figuring out where I want to go with the pairing…I am figuring this out as I go along, so there is no definite plan. For all you know, she may end up in the evil hands of a certain Bolton….Although he isn't an honorable man…My mind changes like the seasons. So, stay tuned!