The dining hall was filled with the testosterone of the new recruits as they got acquainted with their new comrades. The men she had threatened almost two weeks ago were absent that night. Dimeria smiled inwardly as she thought of the fear she had instilled in them that night.

Not particularly concerned with the obnoxious behavior of the men this night, she didn't bother trying to distance herself from them. There were many of them in there that night, so she removed her cloak from her back and shoulders, for she felt the radiating warmth from the many bodies. She never particularly felt cold anyway, she never knew why; she just assumed that she had grown accustomed to it over the years.

"Aye lass, ye must be cold there without ye're cloak." One of the new guards sat down on her left, scooting rather close to her. She glared at him from the side, but didn't bother to actually lift her head from her meal.

The guard continued, "Why don't ye come back to my quarters…I bet I could warm ya up." He said with a mischievous grin. He reached out to grab the lock of white hair that had drifted over her face. Holding her breath, she tensed her muscles as he ran the white lock through his fingers.

Scooting away from him, she said, "I don't think so."

A small crowd had gathered around them; some of them more of the new men, and others the veterans of The Wall, not bothering to warn the man of Dimeria's wrath.

Taking pleasure from the mounting attention, the man refused to take 'no' for an answer.

"Okay then, lemme try again. Name's Mereas. How 'bout you tell me your name…then we can head up to my room."

"I said, no." Dimeria said finally caring enough to look up at him. He wasn't the most hideous man she had ever seen, but he definitely was not anyone to give a second glance to.

"Oh, come on now, girl." Mereas said reaching for her shoulder. "Surely they didn't bring you here to just stand around. How 'bout I take you with me and I'll put you to some real work…somethin' that'll benefit the both of us."

Dimeria reached down with her right hand to grab the hidden dagger in her boot, but immediately clenched her fist and scolded herself as she realized she had left it in her room. Instead, she slapped his hand away and gave a cold glare hoping that alone would be enough to make him stop; she did not feel up to fighting another foolish man tonight.

But Mereas proved to be persistent, for once again, he reached out to grab Dimeria; but this time in a much more intimate spot. Although she didn't have her dagger, she snatched up the knife given with her meal. It was dull, but if she applied enough force (which she could), it would do enough damage. Pushing his outstretched and wandering hand onto the table, she drove the handle of the knife into the top of his hand and immediately broke a bone. The man screamed in pain and clutched at his injured hand and glowered at Dimeria.

The crowd gathered around had grown considerably and they were now cheering and laughing at how foolish Mereas had been. He was not giving up, though. A growl escaped his mouth and he lurched forward at Dimeria who had already diverted her attention back to her dinner. Before he could even lay his good hand on her, someone else had grabbed his cowl and yanked him backwards onto the floor. Mereas painfully stood back up to see the face of Jon Snow glaring down at him.

"How many times does she have to tell you, 'no'?" Jon asked him.

Dimeria had since then stood up from the table and was looking over Jon's shoulder.

"Leave her alone, or perhaps we'll both have a go at your other hand." Jon threatened him.

Without another word, Mereas left the hall in a rush.

"Oh, a dinner and a show! I must say, that was much more entertaining than the ones at King's Landing!" A familiar, sarcastic voice filled the room and they all turned to see a smirking Tyrion standing on one of the tables.

As the crowd dispersed, Dimeria sat once more at her dinner, though she seemed to have lost her appetite. Jon Snow replaced the spot to her left and Tyrion took a place across from her.

"I must say, you are quite gifted with a blade; even when you don't use the pointy end!" Tyrion said with a laugh.

Dimeria offered a small smirk in response and continued to push the food around on her plate. It was then that Jon picked up her cloak and offered it to her.

"Here, you must be cold." He said kindly.

She pushed it away. "I'm not…"

Jon furrowed his eyebrows in confusion at her cold response. "I just saved you from that man-"

"Actually boy, I don't think she needed saving at all." Lord Tyrion interrupted.

"I had it sorted." She said curtly to Jon.

"I was only trying to help." He murmured quietly. Dimeria sighed at his hurt feelings, but said nothing to console him.

"Well this is awkward." Tyrion said, "I thought bastards were supposed to have some sort of special bond with each other."

Neither of them offered any response to him except for harsh glares.

"If you two aren't going to talk, I suppose I'll start the conversation. Dimeria, where on earth did that white streak come from?" Tyrion asked bluntly.

Taken aback from the upfront question, it took her a moment to reply.

"How should I know?" She said

"You don't know who your parents are?" Jon asked her curiously.

"Do you?!" She snapped at him.

"My mother, no. But my father and his wife raised me as one of their own in Winterfell. More so my father, but still…" Jon said calmly.

Dimeria sighed again saying, "No, I do not know my parents. I do not know where my white strand of hair came from." She said turning to both Jon and Tyrion.

The inquiries of her origins had stirred up the same hateful emotions she felt the same day she overheard the conversation between Jeor and Aemon. She still had found out nothing more of her parents and she hated that the two of them were still keeping secrets from her. The thought of it put her in a sour mood and she finally just pushed away her plate of food.

"You know, I have only seen one other family with hair such as that streak." Tyrion said. "The Targaryen's have always had white hair running in their family."

Dimeria scoffed at the remark, "Me, a Targaryen? No. Just because Aemon happens to be one means nothing. People hardly even remember he is from that bloodline. He keeps mainly to himself now that he is blind." She shook her head incredulously, "Besides, they are from the south. I have been in the north my entire life."

"Ah, but you just said you know nothing of your parents. Perhaps they were from the south and you just don't know it."

And with that Lord Tyrion bid them good night and left the dining hall. The suggestion left a strange feeling in her stomach and she wasn't sure what to make of it. She looked over to Jon who was still sitting beside her, quietly.

"I apologize for my rudeness. It is not everyday I am questioned about my parents." She said to him.

"Think nothing of it. I understand the frustrations that go along with being a bastard child."

His somber tone of voice drew a pitying emotion from Dimeria and she suddenly felt inclined to keep speaking with Jon.

"Do you know anything of your mother? Or did your father never speak of her?" She asked trying to make conversation.

"He never spoke of her; he couldn't with his wife. She never took a liking to me since I was an obvious sign of her husband's betrayal. She never considered me part of the family."

"How many are you?"

"The oldest brother is Robbert. Then Sansa, she is a few years younger than I. Then Arya, she's barely into her first decade. Bran, and then Rickon is the youngest. There is also one ward, Theon from House Greyjoy."

"Sounds like quite a bunch." Dimeria said with a kind smile.

A flash of pain crossed Jon's eyes then as he remembered his family that had taken him in. Although Lady Stark had never liked him, the rest of the family treated him like a true blood brother. Dimeria felt sorry for him then. She had never considered that the men that came to The Wall were leaving families behind; she only ever thought of them as convicts and criminals. This one though, he was simply a volunteer trying to find his place in the world. He would mostly likely never see his family again, and if he did; it would be many years from now.

Dimeria had never known the feeling of family. She had briefly before she felt the heartbreaking betrayal of Jeor and Aemon; but she had never had to withstand the painful loss of family. What would her life be like if she had known her parents, even if only for a little while? Would she have runaway from the Night's Watch many years ago?

She would never know, but the presence of Jon Snow and the love he had for his family sprouted new feelings within her that she had never felt before. Could the love of a family be that strong? She asked herself. Could love from anyone be that strong? The affection that Jon showed evoked jealousy within her, also. She suddenly had a strong desire to know her parents, to know why they hadn't kept her. A whirring swirl of emotions engulfed her mind: shame, anger, and sadness. Why?

She kept asking herself. What was wrong with her? The sense of incompletion she first felt on that day many years swallowed her whole. Her breathing came quickly and her head felt numb. A tingling in her hands had begun as she felt shame and anger course throughout her entire body.

"Dimeria?"

She snapped out of her deep pool of emotions to look into the concerned face of Jon.

"I'm sorry, I just…" She said struggling for words, "it's just, I never knew my parents. I wish I had the opportunity to do so." She finished with a tear travelling down her cheek.

Jon placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, the first man to ever do so without getting injured.

"You may be able to, someday. But you should be happy for your fortune. Your Lord Commander cared for you enough to save you, not many are so lucky."

"I'm not sure luck had anything to do with it." Dimeria said miserably.

"What do you mean?"

Dimeria inhaled deeply. She shouldn't have said anything.

"It's nothing." She told him.

Jon left it at that, he could tell it was a personal matter; one that he could not force her to talk about. He once again placed his hand on her shoulder and gave her a kind smile. Much to his surprise, she offered one back. It was a beautiful smile, one that reached her deep blue eyes and made them sparkle. He walked out of the dining hall no longer feeling threatened by the fierce fighter. He had to admit to himself that he was rather wary of her after all the stories the other men had told of Dimeria, but after a slightly rocky start, she seemed accept him more than she accepted the others.

Jon laughed to himself then. Perhaps Lord Tyrion was correct.

Maybe bastards do have a special bond.


Hi everyone! Hope you're enjoying the story so far. I apologize for it starting off a bit slow, I really want to establish Dimeria's character and who she is. I promise I'll be trying to pick it up soon! Remember to leave reviews, I enjoy hearing from you and it's much appreciated, thanks!