Women were soft of skin and sweet to look at. They had a head like men and limbs the same too, but instead of a cock there was a sweet wetness between their legs, and unlike men, woman had breasts to nourish a babe and another place where men liked to kiss.

From what Jon Snow knew of women, they had soft skin that felt better than velvet under his touch. But they were not scarred like men, with their rough hands from sword training and long thin scars from stray blades. Women had more noble scars, those that nature gave them from where their babes had grown inside of them.

But Elena was no mother, he had not expected her skin to be flawed with such markings. But hidden away in the places that none others would see, there they were, the echo of jaws that bit too deeply and the skin that still flickered from the flame that had burnt it.

Jon had scars too, and just like Elena he had earnt them in battle, a badge of honour for their bravery. But she would hide them away from Jon; she would cover them when he tried to look; she would cringe when he tried to touch them. So Jon had let her be, let her wear her medals in peace, but sometimes he would catch a glimpse and he knew how brave his love had been, even if she did not see it yet.