Eliesse's breaths escaped her flushed face and parted lips in exasperated wisps. Tiny sweat beads trickled down her forehead as she blinked away her body's dew in haste and euphoric delight.

She glanced up at Robb who brooded above her with a sly smile on his devilish lips. "Had enough?" The young wolf muttered lowly, reminiscent of her frantic rhythm and seeming inability to keep up with his fast, aggressive pace.

"I could never get enough…" she suddenly breathed, her breath returning to her for a brief moment before it departed once more "...but I will yield" she huffed.

The young man and lady were sparring.

And Robb had bested the girl...at least he believed he had. Truth would be, Eliesse had let the young Lord win, for she knew eyes followed the pair tirelessly, and those grey orbs belonged to Lord Eddard Stark who had stumbled upon the pair training with Ser Rodrik, who looked on at the two, just as near.

"Good on you lad...and it only took you five years" Ser Rodrik Cassel boomed, patting Robb roughly on his back. He smiled a toothy, rotted smile and glanced up at the balcony where Lord Stark had been observing from. Robb followed his eyes and greeted his father with a shimmering smile.

"Father, what brings you to the training grounds?" Robb called up to his father. He turned to Eliesse quickly and pulled her from the ground. She smiled small in thanks and turned swiftly from the Warden's curious stare that seemed to become more pressing as the days burned on.

"I've no Lord's business, son...I merely heard the banter of swords and wanted to look in on you boy...your shield arm, Robb. Keep it up or—

"Or they'll ring my head...I know, father. I will do better" Robb smiled small, his gesture returned adoringly by his father.

Eliesse watched in silence, wondering for a moment if Lord Stark ever treated Jon Snow with the same fatherly regard. The notion unsettled her for a moment and bore quiet sadness into her heart. She knew Eddard Stark was a fair man, and no doubt treated Jon with love and kindness as he had with his other trueborn children. Yet, Eliesse couldn't help but feel there was something missing...a smile that could've been bigger, a touch that might've been more gentler, had it been someone else that the great Lord took for his wife instead of Catelyn Tully.

Yes, she was the sensor on Lord Stark's heart. Cruel, really...and though Eliesse could scarcely understand where her scorn and anger hailed from, it didn't quite solidify her cold nature towards the bastard wolf.

The lioness watched as the great wolf walked slowly down the castle's rickety stairs, his dark furs bellowing silently behind him. He approached the training pair, glancing softly between the young woman and his son. "Robb, perhaps you'd be of help to Ser Rodrik by gathering the rest of the dummies and bringing them inside. I wish to have a word with our lovely friend and proud tiger" Ned flashed the Dornish girl a kind smile to which she returned. Robb nodded and began picking swords up from the training grounds, disappearing before the girl could protest his dismissal.

Silence engulfed Eliesse and Lord Stark, as she stared down at her feet, unsure what to say in the suddenly awkward and cold moment. Lord Stark cleared his throat abruptly, turning to the shy girl. "How has Winterfell been to you, my Lady?" His withered and grey eyes loomed over Eliesse curiously, though they did not linger. Eliesse shrugged honestly, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. It was not that Lord Stark made the girl uncomfortable, it was just unlike him to call upon her or anyone for that matter.

Especially alone.

"Winterfell has always been kind, my Lord. I fancy it very much. It gives my skin a rest from a sweltering southern sun. The heat is not always so good for young skin...at least, that's what my handmaiden says…" Eliesse shon the Lord a classic, cheeky smile that had gained the lioness adequate fame. He smiled in return, glancing up to the evergrey, northern skies.

"Aye...as I've heard, too...So, you like it here, girl?" He glanced back at Eliesse who had been pondering the great Lord's face whilst he brooded the strange skies. She met his eyes in curiosity, glancing around him to the vast Winterfell yard. Lord Stark was a busy man...the Royal Guard was upon his castle and more than that, The King, his dear friend and brother...what ailed the honorable man's mind that he sought her out so? And to ask nothings of her comfort in his castle?

"I do, my Lord. I suppose I have grown to appreciate it's wonder and beauty. I will not deny you the truth...I did not always enjoy it. The first time many years ago when I rode north with Lord Arryn...I hated it. I hate this cold...I hated the accents, too…" She chuckled honestly, earning a rare toothy smile from the kind Lord. "...But it has grown on me. It is no Dorne...I don't believe any land in Westeros will or could ever fill the void Dorne has left in my wild heart...but Winterfell is more of a home to me than any kingdom I've rested in...It has kind people and kind faces...face I've learned to love" The young woman hugged her furs closer to her frame at the mention of love.

It was not true.

Love was the flame of a timid candle that burned bright in her affection for Winterfell...The wick belonging to a bastard boy that she loved relentlessly, even despite their turbulent last encounter days before. Her hand tingled quietly at her side as though she could still feel the sting of her slap upon the bastard's face in the honorable Godswood. And though the boy's eyes evaded the Dornish woman in the days that had followed, she thought she could still feel vaguely feel the chill of a brooding, grey stare.

"I am happy to hear that Winterfell has earned a place in your heart...and while I can never assure it will amount to the tender touch of Dorne in your soul...it will always be kind...and it's people ever good to you in all your days, my Lady" Ned Stark gently took the young woman's hand and pressed a familiar, honorable kiss to it. "I'll leave you to your business, kind girl. Perhaps you'll allow Robb to escort you once more to the feast, this night?"

"It would be my honor, my Lord" Eliesse bowed respectively as Lord Stark smiled and dissipated back to the large castle. She watched quietly until she was sure she was no longer in his lingering sight or just below his ear. Quickly, she turned back towards the end of the castle that housed her; a quiet tower, overlooking the vast courtyard.

The Dornish woman walked with a prideful bite to her step as she passed many faces in the cold yard. Since the Guard's arrival to Winterfell, whispers trailed the woman around every corner of the eerie castle. Many questioned her presence in the castle...other's remarked her beauty and grace upon the sparring grounds…The north was not fond of southerns...let alone proud lions. Her Lannister name dripped maliciously from northern tongues as many men and women slit their eyes in her presence. While they ogled the girl's strange, olive beauty...most resented her presence within the castle walls.

Eliesse never let the fact spare too long in her proud mind; no, the Dornish woman did not care. For the men and women who whispered her name from loathing lips never mirrored her courage or pride, or would dare speak ill to her face. No, they would all smile largely when she prodded by, beckoning her forward and washing the girl with compliments that were truly sincere, though came from bitter places. And the few who did speak to the girl, fell in love with her almost instantly. From her Dornish drawl, to ever clever wit...she was quickly becoming favorable in the cold lands.

However, some contested and opposed her very public friendship with the Prince of Winterfell.

Robb and Lady Eliesse always appeared to be quite cosy with one another. Robb was always gleaming and admiring the golden beauty, while Eliesse batted her eyelashes bashfully at the lad. Sometimes she wondered herself, if she had fallen for her own seducing, Dornish ways and her flirtation was more true, than reaction seeking. Yes, it would seem Eliesse played upon the young wolf's adoration for her simply because she knew it elicited anger in another.

Jon.

Though he honored the lioness' demands to leave her be, his eyes still followed her whenever she was not looking and where she'd go. He pretended to be unaware of her playful banter with his brother...he even turned away from the pair when she'd fake swoon at him during sparring or if the older lads rode outside Winterfell's gates.

But he was always aware. More than he wanted to be, too.

Jon's stormy gaze followed Eliesse around every corner whenever he was near. He'd watch her smile, laugh, jest with his siblings and Winterfell guards...but never with him. No, the Dornish girl evaded his gaze and presence every chance she could. Whenever her gold eyes would lift and find his own, they'd suddenly run hot and hard.

She'd turn away from him angrily, unregarding.

Still, he'd watch her. Even though she truly believed the bastard had cast her away like plague...he didn't. He never had. He found his letters too, among her own. No, the bastard boy had never abandoned her like she believed true in her heart.

He never had, and she'd never know.

Though the truth bubbled in him and threatened to rip from his chest every day that she would scowl at him, he never spoke or let slip the heart wrenching truth. He could not bring himself to confess...for he knew what he was and who is she were, too. And that fact alone drove the boy far away for fear of what it's fruit would bare.

A bastard and a highborn Lady?

Never.

Death before dishonor.

And he knew Catelyn Stark would see to it, too.

So instead, the bastard boy would watch painfully from quiet corners and smile to himself at her bashful comments and Dornish witt...he'd reminisce her touch, her lips...her love, and imagine it were he she would hold onto, and not Robb, his beloved brother who despite it all...he could not find it in himself to hate.

Robb was innocent and unaware. He had no inkling of his bastard brother's withheld love and adoration for Eliesse, for if he did, he would surely cease all courtship of the girl. Jon had always been dealt so little in his short life. Truly, he could never take love away, too. Secretly, Robb hoped that Eliesse's snide comments and jests at Jon's expense about the kitchen wench Jemma were true.

"He loves her, you know. That kitchen wench, Jemma. Jon and Jemma, sitting in a tree...married with bastards, happy as can be" She'd mock, her eyes losing all remnants of its usual laughter and banter. It was as though she truly meant her disdain for the bastard. Jon would shake his head, silent to the girl's words and speaking no ill to her. And Eliesse would grow angry, eyes hard and relentless on her target as though it was Jon's words she wished her cruelty would draw forth. Whenever she mentioned the two, Jon, or Jemma, she would hit her bullseye every time.

Jon remained quiet, and honorable. He knew he wouldn't have to stomach the heart-wrenching sights of Robb and Eliesse, or her cruelty much longer...even though the boy never faulted her, regardless.

Jon knew he was going to be riding to Castle Black with his Uncle Benjen Stark soon to take the black and swear an oath to defend the northern wall.

He would take no wives.

Hold no lands.

Father no children.

Wear no crowns or win any glory.

He would live and die at his post…

...with the memory of a southern girl being the only thing to warm him in his long night.

It would seem he had already begun practicing for his lonely life at the wall...late at night, with a dim wick burning tirelessly, he'd lay awake in his chambers, reading endless scrawl dealt of delicate fingers. Some nights, he'd smile...chuckle in quiet darkness at peculiar words misspelled with Dornish tongue and sarcasm that seemed to come alive in the ink...and some nights he'd find himself teary eyed in despair from pain stricken words that seemed to glow red in the still night. Jon fought to not devour all the letters in a single night. He promised himself he would keep them all, and read one letter a week during his days at the wall. He imagined Eliesse's childish words basking him in comfort during his long watch...even if it would pain him so in the process.

Anything to pretend she was near. Anything to pretend it was her delicate voice above the quiet winds that whispered to his ear.

He found himself one night reading a letter from the girl in which she recalled their time in the hot springs before he left. She penned him her desire...urgency...she described the sensation his touch had brought her and how just the mere thought made her loins run hot and damp at her newly glowing femininity. The letter had left the boy writhing in his bed, his own sensuality attentive and hard. He fought desire and honor, and imagined for a swift moment leaping from his bed and finding the girl across the courtyard in her chambers. The thought of ripping her surely naked body from warm sheets and taking her against the cold, stone walls of her room and upon the creaking chamber floors nearly imploded the bastard. The wolf in him howled loud and longingly, enticing the boy to follow his primal instinct. But, Jon knew honor...no matter how much he needed to find her and crush his cold lips to hers steaming ones once more, and bury himself within the warm, moist swells of her womanhood...he knew he could not.

It wasn't decent. And the thought was unbecoming of a growing man, a Stark, at that too. It startled him to realize the idea had came from his own fevered mind. But he was still a boy, for all purposes without and a bastard, for all rights known. So he allowed the lustful thoughts to venture into his mind and torture the boy at his bed.

And when the thoughts had nearly drove the bastard mad, he relieved himself with the overwhelming thought of Eliesse and her newly becoming woman's shape being his only assistance. He didn't need much more than that, anyhow. The thought was harmless, and his fantasy sustaining him for the moment.

Though he wanted to rip the girl from her Dornish silks whenever she were present, he knew he could never. No, not even if the girl begged him and swore to never spew hatred of his name again…

He could never risk putting a bastard in her belly.

The one thing in this world that troubled the wolf more than Eliesse's dismissal of his existence, was the notion of what their love could bring. He never wanted to damn another innocent babe to a cruel life of constantly being regarded as worthless and diminutive. He would rather die and watch Robb wed Eliesse a hundred times over...at least he knew then, that she'd be loved, protected, and never looked upon as lesser than the great woman she truly was, or her children be ridiculed as mutts.

So Jon vowed to stay away.

He promised himself he would do the girl no injustice...for showing her the letters would only strike pain and anguish into her heart, unfairly so. Why would he awaken a love he could not tame?The boy's mind was made up and his promise to his Uncle spent true. He would be leaving Winterfell once and for all, taking with him a rugged, red silken ribbon and memory of blazing gold pools. He was sure that was all he needed to warm him at night, for the rest of his nights, during his long watch.

Eliesse opened her chamber doors quietly, peering doubtfully into the silent room before her. "Thara?" She called curiously, swaying into the room when her call was unanswered.

Eliesse walked briskly to her bed, her fingers working quickly to withdraw her dress that was slick with sweat from sparring. She watched herself curiously in the mirror as her dress slid effortlessly from full breasts and hung loose at her newly sculpted hips. She stared at the woman within the mirror, pondering when she blossomed forth from the young Viperess of Dorne. A slender finger tucked a defiant gold lock behind her ear as she scrutinized her eyes that seemed too hard for a woman who was merely ten and seven...her lips, full and plump with viper's venom, no doubt...held thoughts at bay for fear of what they'd say outside her teeth. She could scarcely recall what she looked like, once baked in a Dorne sun many years ago. Her grandfather protested the Dornish tradition of short hair for a lady...a warrior, and had let the girl's tresses run long and wild to her curving waist. The capital way. Eliesse captured a curl between her newly puckered and bruised fingers, running slowly along its length. For a defiant moment, she imagined cutting the curl to her shoulder in attempt to recognize the woman, once a foreign girl, who stood brooding at her.

A muffled shuffle broke the woman's pondering silence.

Eliesse turned sharply, draping her dress back upon her shoulders. She stared intently to her bathing chambers where she was sure the noise had come from. Silently, her gold eyes flickered to the small dagger upon her bed as she quietly, with a warriors grace, crept and retrieved it. She flipped it skillfully within her hand, the blade's delicate but precise point ahead of her sleuth fingers, as she crept quietly to the chamber. "Reveal yourself...I know you're in there" she warned, her feet moving slow and calculated towards the cold door.

The floor creaked beyond the old, wooden door. Eliesse's mouth ran dry, and her eyes grew narrow. All her senses became electric, she could feel her blood rushing behind alert ears. Her fingers trembled with anticipation...the viper in her flickered predatorily as she awaited her moment to strike.

A loud crash.

The bath chamber doors flew open in a sudden haste, Eliesse's eyes barely had a moment to register the figure that whisked gingerly from behind the old door. The dark, hooded figure made a dash for the doors of the room, a sparing effort to evade the awaiting viper.

Eliesse grit her teeth, her fist clenching the suddenly hot metal that resides within her hand. Without another moment to pass, Eliesse withdrew her arm, and with a powerful whip, she thrust the knife towards the fleeing figure.

A loud clank of the knife bit the suddenly tense moment wide.

The hooded figure was stuck. Eliesse had pinned the person by the tail of their cloak against the stone wall.

A woman yelped, as she fell against the wall, her momentum halted by the knife that held her cloak prisoner. "Please! Don't kill me!"

Eliesse clenched her fist, her teeth nearly shredding her lip from the aggressive clench of the woman's jaw. She stalked forward ominously, grabbing the hood of the woman. Without a moment spent, she ripped the hood back revealing frightened, brown eyes and trembling, pale lips.

Jemma?

Eliesse felt her heart run hot and sharp as she grabbed the girl by the front of her cloak and lifted her from the scuffed, old floors. "You are brave, girl" Eliesse seethed, her voice coming into a snarl. Jemma stared up at the vicious lioness, her voice stripped and trembling at her throat. She could not find the courage to speak. She had heard rumors of this Lannister girl's icy heart and ruthlessness and was suddenly very much aware that she now resided in its path. "Speak or I'll cut your tongue from your head since you've no use for it, it would seem".

"M-my Lady, please...I was just cleaning...I—

"Cleaning, you say?" Eliesse's eyes flickered to the kitchen wench's hand that was clenched until it was ripe and white at her meek side. Eliesse grabbed the straining hand, twisting it menacingly. Her face calmed in satisfaction at the sharp yelp that escaped the girl. "Perhaps stealing, is what you meant. Open your hand or I'll chop it off and open it myself".

Jemma cried out in agony as Eliesse twisted her hand once more when no word came forth from the thieving girl and her hand had not opened. Finally, her hand drew wide as a small stamp fell forth from ill-intentioned fingers. "I'm sorry!" She suddenly bubbled, snot and tears streaming down her flushed face.

Eliesse dropped Jemma's twisted hand and bent to retrieve the small, golden stamp. She grasped the cold metal, staring at it peculiarly. Her finger brushed gently over the engraved "E.L." under a roaring lion. Her grandfather had gifted it to her upon her arrival to the westernlands, when he saw her writing a letter to her uncle in Dorne. Every highborn man and lady had one, he'd say. So they'll know the letter is of great importance from honorable hands...She vaguely remembered him showing her how to seal her letters in wax and press the solid gold stamp to the hot liquid, marking her letter as authentic to her name…

She hated that stamp.

She wondered if it had cursed all her scrawls she'd sent for Jon Snow. She bitterly recalled that sound of the stamp hitting her old, oak desk. Clunk, clunk, clunk...the blasted thing was probably used nearly a hundred times. Day and night...night and day...it dipped into hot wax and elicited cold return.

Maybe Jon doesn't know who E.L. is...she thought one night when her seventh letter was sent and bid no return. She remembered the next day signing the rest of the letters with her wax seal, and writing "Ellie" underneath, as well.

Still, no letter returned.

Eliesse stared bewildered at Jemma. "A stamp? You've broken into my chambers to steal a bloody stamp? You are daft, girl. What were you planning on doing? Selling the gold piece? For what?" Eliesse snarled at Jemma, her eyes sharp and threatening like a lion circling its prey.

Jemma stood suddenly, her eyes down and untelling. "N-no, m'lady...I—

"Of course you were going to sell it. Did you hope for enough gold to survive you beyond Winterfell's walls? Is that it? You and Jon planning to run away? Need a few coins for the long, King's Road ahead? You could've asked. I would love to send you and the bastard off, well. You would be doing me a favor, taking that stupid boy. And a Lannister always repays their debts" Eliesse hadn't realized her eyes had welded moisture at their seams. Her fist were clenched at her side, her brows furrowed in pain as the thought of Jon running away with another like he'd vowed to with her bled angrily into her wounded mind.

Jemma stared at the girl, her mouth agape, as her trembling suddenly ceased. "I love him" she suddenly breathed, her strength coming to her. "And he loves me. I know he does". She took a small step towards Eliesse, who stared back in twisted resentment. Jemma's eyes were unblinking, it was as though the woman were possessed by her thoughts and her words taking form from her troubled mind.

"Perhaps he does. But he didn't the other night" Eliesse spoke gently, staring into Jemma's suddenly ramped eyes. She searched the lioness' eyes for truth, but Eliesse would not bend from her place in the room. Eliesse thought for a moment she heard the girl stifle a cry, or muffle a sure gasp. But Jemma did not speak. She glanced sideways at the chamber doors and back to the brooding lioness once more.

"Will you have me hung?"

"No. I won't" Eliesse spoke quickly, placing the stamp down on her bed. She fingered once more the strange, chilled metal, her mind reminiscing a scratch of quill on soft parchment. It rang mockingly in her scorned mind.

Jemma turned suddenly away from the young woman, grasping the chamber doors between her pale fingers.

Suddenly, she felt her skull run hot and sharp as rough fingers grasped her hair at its root. She felt her core spin as her scrawny back flew once more against the cold stone wall. Her gaze was met with familiar golden ones, once more. "If you enter my chambers again without my permission...ever, I will skin you, flesh to bone and wear it like one of my pretty, Dorne dresses for your beloved Jon Snow while I fuck him in it".

Jemma stared wide eyed at the suddenly vicious lioness. She vibrated in fear as she waited for the great lion to release its paw from her skull. When she had, Jemma fleed from the chamber, stumbling out the creaking door.

Eliesse remained, her heart a flurry of pain and anger once more as she stared at the golden stamp before her. She bit her lip, picking it up and pressing it to her suddenly trembling lip.

She closed her eyes finally, as a single tear rolled down her warm cheek.

Winterfell's feasting hall was a bustle once more of celebration as word spread quickly of great, Ned Stark accepting King Robert's request of Hand of the King.

Eliesse watched quietly from her seat at the Lannister table alongside her father, uncle Jaime and the rest of the Kingsguard. "Fool," Tyrion muttered as he poured his chalice ripe with wine. "He does not know how much he will age under Robert's fat arse". Eliesse turned amusingly to her drunk father who was eyeing the castle whores lustfully. Jaime shook his head in disapproval, though allowed a shimmer of banter to grace his handsome face.

"Now, now, brother...the news shocks us all. I thought the old wolf would decline...pitty" Jaime sipped his wine, watching curiously as Robert and Eddard spoke amongst themselves. He did not like this. Not one bit...the wolf in Robert's ear could pose concern for him and his family. Nonetheless, the King Slayer lay silent. He would not speak ill in front of those who would question its origin.

"Yes, well, I'm sure many were hopeful of his honorable refusal. I love a good plot...and the plot thickens. Cheers, sweet daughter. I notice your glass is half empty...pessimistic?" Tyrion's stare washed the girl curiously, as her gaze held upon Lord Stark and the King. She wondered what Robert has said to convince the Warden to leave his honorable post and family. So much responsibility...to entrust to Lady Stark? No, of course not. Robb was now heir to Winterfell. And it would seem his time for reign had come prematurely…she wondered if that were a good thing or not.

"A glass, good woman" Eliesse called to a passing serving girl. The woman curtsied quickly, pouring a slick glass from a flagon. "Many thanks" Eliesse whispered as she sipped the Dorne berry quietly, her gaze never withering.

"You are quiet, my daughter. What troubles you? Perhaps the news of Ned Stark's bastard" Tyrion Lannister sipped his wine slowly, observing Eliesse's suddenly rigid figure.

She would give no hint to the sudden clench of her heart and bitterness upon her tongue.

"What news? He is to be wed?" Eliesse sat back in her chair, trying her damndest to not allow her voice to tremble or crack under suddenly painful pressure.

Jaime laughed wholeheartedly, turning to his sweet niece. "Wed? Who would wed that bastard? And what name would he give? Snow? Lord and Lady Snow?" He chuckled once more and stood from the wooden table. "You amuse me, niece. But I am a man of duty and it would seem our King is bidding me forward. We will speak in the morn" without another word spared, Jaime departed the suddenly cold table, and made his way to the King and Queen who bid his service.

"I think what your dear uncle meant to say, was that the bastard has announced that he will be pledging himself to the Black" Tyrion spoke, taking a bite out of his chicken. He would not give notice, but he watched his daughter curiously.

He had noticed her uncomfortable shifts whenever Jon Snow was mentioned these past days.

"The Black?" Eliesse questioned genuinely, leaning forward to her drunken father. He stunk of wine and strange perfume but she threw the fact to the back of her mind.

She needed to know.

Especially if it regarded the bastard.

"He has vowed to follow his uncle Benjen Stark north of Winterfell to the Great Wall. He wishes to take the Black and become a man of the Night's Watch...the sworn brotherhood of Castle Black who defends the northern wall from things that go bump in the night...It is an honorable choice. He will be pledging his life to duty, no love, no children...quite frankly the boy must be a virgin because I don't understand how any man or boy who has known the feel of a cunt could ever— Eliesse, where are you going?"

Tyrion watched as his daughter had slipped from her seat at the table and disappeared into the crowd of drunken men and women. He stood from his seat, knowing it would serve no assistance in searching for his suddenly daft daughter. He chuckled internally at the observation and sat once more, throwing back the last of his chalice.

Eliesse pushed through the steam and stench of drunken men and soldiers. Some grabbed at the girl, and some threw snide comments her way.

Where you off to in a hurry, girl?

Come here, now pretty…

Oi, what an arse on you…

Eliesse felt the grasp of hard hands at her bottom as she spun quickly and shoved a pepper-haired man from her path. "If you ever— she began, her face flushing in unfamiliar embarrassment.

"That's enough. Touch her again and you'll lose your hand" A familiar voice spoke from behind her. Eliesse turned swiftly, her heart knowing the man in which the voice came from.

Jon.

"Lady Eliesse, I can escort you back to your—

"Why? Why the Night's Watch?" She suddenly spat, her eyes narrowed in a tell-tale pain that the bastard was ashamed to know so well.

It was as though the entire room had begun to spin slow...men, women and children alike whisked past the lioness it what seemed like never ending halted movement.

Jon stared at the girl, shocked. He wondered for a silent moment if she'd ended up at this harsh end of the feasting hall purposely...perhaps in search of him.

No, never. He thought. I'm not a thought in her mind.

"Because there is great honor in being a man of the Night's Watch. And it's the highest honor that a bastard can acclaim. I have vowed to my uncle—

"What of the vows you made to me?" Eliesse suddenly spoke, taking a daunting step to the unsuspecting lad. Her gold eyes tirelessly searched his grey ones. They searched relentlessly for a love that had never been answered...for a glimmer of hope that maybe...just maybe, Jon did love her and not Jemma...and perhaps if he even respected her a morsel...he wouldn't do this. He wouldn't damn himself to a life of solitude.

A life without her.

"Eliesse, I have never thwarted my vows to you...never. I meant them all. In the hot spring, I meant—

"Yet you never answered one letter...not one! Why Jon? Was Jemma really that grand? I deserve to know, Jon. You owe me this at the very least. For years you held my heart...my joy captive in frosted lands. Please. Set me free, Jon Snow. If it's not my love that you sought, just tell me the truth…I want the pain to stop" Eliesse choked out suddenly, her voice grief stricken and above a whisper for the bastard's ears only. Her lip lay lifeless between her teeth as she fought its tremble. She knew if she freed the plump flesh that I would cry out in agony at the thought of the bastard boy.

Jon stared at the girl, his heart seething in a fury of anguish and despair. Eliesse...the Proud Lioness of Casterly Rock...the Tiger...the Viperess…

...was crumbling before his eyes.

She loved him.

And he loved her.

"Eliesse, there was never anyone else...I swear it, before the old Gods and new...I swear—

"Stop it!" Eliesse suddenly yelled, her voice striking down the laughter and joy around her. Soldiers and drunken fools watched the girl curiously as she heaved hot, scornful tears down her olive face. "You lie. You lied then, and you lie now!" Eliesse spun around, darting for the feasting halls doors. She thrust them open bitterly, taking no notice to the northern chill that nipped at her exposed breast.

She ran as fast as her legs that were entrapped in Dornish silk would take her, to the only place that elicited sure peace.

The Godswood.

Frost and light dew crunched beneath her shoes as she angrily kicked them away to escape the noise they made. The sting of sheer chill bit at the bottoms of her feet as she trudged on, tears cooling and running dry upon her olive flesh.

Her anger bubbled at the pit of her stomach as she battled logic and sense. A part of her wanted to storm back into Winterfell's honorable halls and find the little bitch Jemma...and slit her thieving throat...perhaps she'd bathe in the girl's blood before Jon Snow to gain some truth from his lips.

But she knew her anger and tormented fantasies would serve no justice or repair no wounds...this type of pain would only go away with time...at least, that's what Thara had spoke to her.

Eliesse stepped before the familiar weirwood tree that's face seemed both welcoming and loathing of the lioness. She stared back at the ominous tree, observing the sap at its anguished eyes...it looked fresh, yet crystallized in time.

Without a word, she dropped to her knees...her hands folded underneath her chin as she attempted to remember any words she could remember the bastard saying before her many years ago. "Please, if there is any God listening…"

"Eliesse"

Eliesse turned suddenly, meeting Jon's stormy gaze. She wasn't surprised. She knew he'd likely follow her after her embarrassing outburst.

"I don't want your words. I don't want your comfort. Go console your wench, Jemma" Eliesse spat, standing before the proud weir tree. She dusted off her suddenly wet dress as she fought to remain calm within the bastard's presence.

She didn't want him to know the mess his presence drew of her.

"Again with Jemma...what will it take for you to see I do not want the girl?" Jon remarked angrily, approaching the ailing lioness. Eliesse rolled her eyes at Jon's martyrdom. She turned away from his cold glare, glancing once more at the weir tree.

"She broke into my chambers today...to steal a stamp. A fucking stamp, Snow" Eliesse turned suddenly to the boy, rising and walking slowly to his figure that was lit dimly in the watchful moonlight. "I almost killed her. I imagined for a moment, thrusting my blade into the tender flesh of her pale throat and dragging out her lying voice and tendrils...don't you see? Don't you see the madness you've besieged upon me?" Eliesse stepped hastily to the boy, so close their noses nearly touched.

Jon stared at Eliesse, sadness brimming at his mind and heart. "I don't love her. It's not true, what you say. I'm sorry she broke into your chambers...I'm sorry…" Jon stammered, his eyes basking over the trembling girl. His voice would not tread on. No, honor held his octave captive and would go no further, for fear of what it would do to the lioness.

Though, he wanted to tell her.

He wanted to scream from the top of his lungs that she was wrong.

They both were.

"Just stop. You're pitiful. I guess...this is goodbye, forever. You are to be a man of the Night's Watch" Eliesse suddenly whispered, her voice running wild with the suddenly biteful northern wind.

The pair stood silently as a strange chill ruffled the canopy of the eerie Godswood.

Jon averted his gaze down, unsure of how to meet the lioness' watchful glare or what to say in her suddenly painful presence. When his eyes did not meet her own, Eliesse bit her lip tiredly and shook her proud head. "Good luck, Lord Snow...May we meet again" without a second glance, the woman turned and began leading towards the familiar undergrowth of the strange woods.

Jon watched quietly, his heart thundering in his chest.

Eliesse.

His sweet, sweet Ellie.

His mind battled his heart that bled honor and true...he wanted to tell her. He wanted to beg her to stay, and hold him a while. For their love was unfairly dealt.

He read her letters.

Jon pondered painfully for a moment that Eliesse would leave the north once and for all…and never know that he did love her.

That he did write her.

And someone had worked tirelessly these last five years to make sure no word would exchange between the two star-crossed lovers.

He watched as her olive frame had almost been swallowed whole by the quiet Godswood. And he knew…

...that if he let her go...she would truly be gone forever.

"Eliesse! Stop! Listen to me…" He clenched his fist at his side, his heart thundering once more against his ribs as honor and logic battled within his mind. He wanted to tell her...he needed to. Hell, if he was truly leaving...she deserved to know.

And he deserved to speak.

Eliesse turned suddenly, glaring at Jon once more. "I'm done listening. You're a damn fool, Jon Snow. And I won't chase you anymore. I won't lay awake bewitched by the thought of you. I won't—

"You wrote me...from the balcony of the Red Keep. You had run off from your father and Tywin Lannister. They kept on you about wearing your hair down and not up...you tried to cut your hair and your grandfather told you that only lesbians had short hair and you were a capital girl now and suitors would be in search of you. So you cut it anyways and took too much from one side…"

Eliesse stared at Jon, her heart lurching to a halt at the boy's words.

No…

...her words.

Jon took a daring step towards the girl, his hand suddenly arising in a meek tremble at his side. "You said you felt like a boy. And you were scared it wouldn't grow back. That I wouldn't have anything to grab. You nicked your ear that day, too...with the shears...it bled and scarred. Now you have a crescent moon on your ear. You said it was fate and a place for my inner wolf to howl…at your ear...so you could listen to my voice when I was inside you...because you wanted me to be there...every day..." Jon reached the suddenly quiet Dorne woman. She stared at him, her eyes wide and full of intent he couldn't perceive. The wind whisked between their bodies, barely escaping the suddenly hot ambiance their figures drew.

"You got my letter. And yet, you never wrote me back. Was this supposed to heal me, boy? Your little revelation...was it suppose to make me forgive you?" Eliesse suddenly spoke, searching Jon's eyes of recognition. Jon stared back, never dropping her gaze. "You got my letter. But you never…"

"I didn't! I never got any letter from you except one…" Jon shouted painfully. He stared at Eliesse who's tears had finally escaped her golden eyes and fallen in sorrowful streams at her cheeks. "...you asked me to stop writing you...you said...that a lady does not answer the call of a bastard…so...I stopped. Moons later, I finally stopped writing you" Jon whispered, his own pain suddenly bubbling to the surface in the quiet Godswood.

Eliesse stared at Jon in shock and bewilderment once more. "I would never—

"I know...I know, now...I found the letters. Yours and mine...under this god forsaken tree. Ghost dug them up the other day...they were in a strange, wooden box. Someone was keeping them…" Jon whispered quietly, his raised hand suddenly gaining momentum once more. He brushed Eliesse's hair from her damp eyes as she stared at him in absolute deafness. "I'm sorry, Eliesse…I should've known, I should've...I should've figured it out...I should've known what we had...that you...that I—

"Stop. Stop talking, bastard" Eliesse suddenly spoke, grabbing the wolf by his furs. "Just...stop" She stared at Jon, her eyes hot and wild in emotion she hadn't felt in so long.

"Eliesse…"

"Stop it…" She whispered, grabbing him rougher at his nape. Jon stared into Eliesse's eyes, feeling a strange heat climb his suddenly hot frame. His eyes washed across her own dangerously...they feuded for a mere moment, searching one another for a word neither would dare bring forth.

"I can't. I wish I could. I wish I could leave you be, woman…but you...you are a devil at my shoulder...in my ear...I wish I could rid myself of the torture your sight becomes of me...but I can't. I won't. I'd damn myself to a life of solitude if it meant you'd be safe...Ellie, I—

Eliesse suddenly pressed her lips to the bastard's cold ones, relieving herself of the tension that had brewed within her chest. Her hands went relentlessly for the back of his head as she tangled her trembling fingers at their root. Jon sighed deeply into her embrace, allowing her to spill her sadness into him. She slowly pulled away, her lips lingering just above the warmth of his own. "I hate you…" she whispered, her quivering mouth grazing his own warm one.

"I know" he muttered, pressing his lips against her own once more.

Logic.

Honor.

All the notions of why Jon and Eliesse shouldn't or could not be, swarmed their suddenly sweltering frames. Eliesse grasped desperately at Jon's furs, attempting to pull the bastard deeper into her body from where he already stood. Jon did not protest her touch, though his mind whispered warnings for him to cease. "Eliesse, we should stop, if someone were to see us…" Jon whispered against the lioness' lips as she defiantly moved against him in protest.

"I won't. We won't...Jon, please...I need you…" Eliesse whispered against the flesh of his bare neck. Jon felt himself become aroused at Eliesse's touch and fevered breaths at his ear. His sweet, Ellie…was begging for him.

He wanted to fulfill her wishes and his desires.

He hesitated, feeling Eliesse's hand run across his heaving chest and attempt to untie his tunic. He knew what she wanted...but he was afraid to give in to her.

What if he put a bastard in her belly? He couldn't bare the thought...Innocent, fierce Ellie...never attesting the honor she deserved...for his sins. "Ellie, we can't" Jon suddenly said, feeling the girl's hand creep across his exposed chest. "I could put a bastard in your belly...I don't ever want to bring another forsaken babe into this world...I could never forgive myself if I did that to you…" Jon grabbed the fevered lioness' hand, forcing her to meet his stormy gaze in the still night.

Eliesse stared at Jon, her eyes soft for the lad in what seemed like eternity. "What of it? Am I not yours? Did you not mean your vows to me many years ago before this sacred tree, Snow?" Eliesse whispered, pressing herself closer to the bastard boy. She was so close, Jon thought he'd explode outside his senses and rip her from her barely concealed silks…

"You know I did, Ellie...but I am a man to be of the Night's Watch...I made a promise to my uncle. This is indecent for a man who is to take the Black...for a bastard, upon his high Lady..."

"Break it. Break the vows. Fuck honor..." Eliesse suddenly said, grabbing the boy's face between her suddenly trembling hands. "...you promised me a life...with you, and me...that we'd run away. To Dorne...or Essos...anywhere, as long as I was at your side. Do not break that vow to me, Jon Snow...if you love me, keep it. We will leave, we will run and never turn back. We will marry under the sun...you will put many wolf pups in my belly...and we will live...together...forev—

Jon grabbed Eliesse and pushed her against the watchful weir tree that had grown wide eyed at the pair before it. He thrust his trembling, hot hand to the back of her neck, deepening his kiss upon her lips.

He needed her.

And she, him.

He remembered his vows. Truth would be, he never forgot them to her. And while every intelligent instinct in him whispered their distraught at his actions, he could not find it in himself to stop. His sweet, Eliesse was begging for him. Begging for his love and for his seed to take root within her and bare fruit of his tree.

He would not deny her. He would not deny himself.

Eliesse moaned softly as Jon's lips departed her own and bit defiantly at the tender, soft skin of her throat. He drew longing wisps with a warm tongue against her fevered flesh, eliciting a sharp exhale from her plump lips.

The sound was more delicious than any fantasy he could've conjured.

He met her lips once more in urgency as Eliesse tugged relentlessly at his furs and tunic. "Silly wolf, let me in…" she whispered lustfully into the bastard's ear. Jon growled in response to her silver, Dornish tongue, the wolf deep within emerging once more in her presence.

Eliesse yelped as Jon reach between them, and thrust her bodice open suddenly, exposing glowing, olive flesh under the chilling, moonlight. He wasted no time tasting her sweltering flesh and sucking relentlessly at the skin of her chest. Eliesse moaned in responses, taking a fistful of the bastard's hair between her shaking fingers. The sensation of his lips against her body drove the Dornish woman mad as she seen stars at the feel.

Jon's rough hand rose to capture a warm, round breast between his calloused palm. He squeezed gently, peering up from the girl's chest to soak in her lustful response and approval. Eliesse's eyes were closed, her lips snatched anticipatingly between her teeth as she drew harsh breaths in as quietly as she could.

Jon played at the girl, his mouth taking refuge at her breast and becoming defiant with a soft, pink nipple. Jon's senses heightened with every stolen breath and moan that trembled from Eliesse's searing frame against the weirwood tree.

Jon tugged and pulled at the girl's silks until he managed to withdraw them completely from her curving frame. He kissed her tenderly at her lips, allowing his nose to brush her own affectionately. "Tell me to continue" he whispered at her lips as he pecked them gently. Eliesse returned his gesture, peering into his grey eyes that seemed to grow wild with desire.

She was sure her own mirrored the same urgency and need.

"Please...don't stop" Eliesse whispered, kissing the bastard once more.

Jon wasted another breath no more as he began to untie his own dressings. Eliesse helped him quickly, their hands fumbling with eagerness and excitement they knew nothing of. She began kissing and nipped at his bare chest once he'd freed it from his furs and tunic. Her hands assisted his own as he undid his pants and pulled them from his legs, along with his under cloths.

Jon gasped, feeling the Dornish girl take hold of his manhood, swiftly. He met her eyes in shock and excitement as she stared back, her own mirroring the same emotion, unsure of what she meant to do with the gesture. Jon began helping her help himself as his breath began to withdraw in long exhales from his own lips. "Eliesse…" he whispered quietly into the crisp night, leaving her to ensue her torture unassisted. She found his lips, and his tongue found hers as they danced quietly into the night.

Slowly, Jon drew the girl down onto the furs he discarded upon the Godswoods grounds. He climbed upon the tingling lioness who suddenly looked wild with fear and wonder. "Are you sure?" He whispered to her, brushing her golden curls from her flushed face. Eliesse stared up at the bastard, her heart nearly exploding at a sight she'd dreamt of for so many years…

"Yes" She quickly breathed, grasping his neck once more and drawing him to her quivering lips. Jon kissed her tenderly, reaching between them suddenly. Eliesse felt a smooth, hardness run through her dripping folds. She gasped at the sensation, meeting Jon's fevered stare once more. She clenched nervously, much aware of the stories that had been told to her of lady losing her maidenhood.

She winced as she felt a slight burn and stretch at her lower region. Jon held his length between a trembling grasp as he positioned himself at her entrance and began to slowly push in. Her nails suddenly bit into Jon's flesh as she gasped at the abrupt, sharp pain. "Shh, I'll be quick" he whispered, his own voice trembling against her lips as he tried to distract her from the pain. Without another word, he thrust himself deep into the swells of her femininity before the girl could speak once more.

Eliesse cried out in the sudden, sharp pain that ensued between her legs. Jon quickly captured Eliesse's lips in another fevered kiss as he swallows her moans of agony within them. He kissed her passionately, trailing from her trembling lips, to the soft, supple skin of her neck. He remained still, not willing to move until the girl bid him her permission. He had nearly lost himself the moment he entered her, unsure of how he managed to remain still when the wolf in him howeled to bury deeper in the woman.

Eliesse finally opened her eyes, feeling the strange sting subside slightly as her walls swelled to fit the bastard's size. Jon lifted his gaze, searching Eliesse's own for any quiver of regret or worry.

But he did not find it.

Eliesse nodded meekly in encouragement, lifting her head once more to meet Jon's lips. He obliged, pressing himself deeper into the Dornish girl, and drawing forth a delicious moan.

The sound was better than any fantasy he had conjured.

His hips found a quiet pace as he moved slowly between the lioness' legs. Gently, he drew and then withdrew, watching Eliesse's face for any sign of discomfort.

But he never found it.

And soon, the Dornish girl had let her legs fall slack at his hips, as she invited him deeper into her swells. Jon pushed farther in, his once tender pace quickening in urgency as he listened hungrily to the sound of Eliesse's screaming thighs and breathy moans.

Eliesse sat forth slightly, drawing her lips closer to the bastard's, in order to meet each powerful thrust. "Jon…please" she begged, locking her legs around the bastard. Jon groaned in response as she began to meet his thrust.

Their eyes held for a few moments, as Jon attempted to kiss her lips with every re-entry. But soon, he lost pace, his movements becoming more wild and sporadic as he felt a strange heat begin to bubble at his core. His face rested in the crook of her neck as he breathed heavily, and whispered his desires and affirmations into the woman's ear.

Eliesse had felt it too, falling back on her arms as she tossed her head back in delight of the bastard wolf's torture. Jon took refuge at her newly exposed neck and flesh, as he bit lustfully into it once more and left angry, red bruises. Eliesse moaned aloud, her mouth hanging agape as she felt the heat within her core erupt at Jon's internal and external fury. She released, her walls clenching around the bastard as he continued to pump in and out of her daringly.

She writhed and trembled under the bastard, one hand digging into his damp, dark curls and other pulling at the overgrown patches of frosted grass at her head side.

The sight of Eliesse unraveling at the bastard's doing and sensation of her walls enclosing on his throbbing manhood probed Jon's own release forward as he spilled his seed deep within the girl. He called her name quietly at her ear, as his erratic movements began to slow and finally halt.

Jon's face was buried in Eliesse's neck as he inhaled sharply and lay quick, lazy kisses at her lobe. He raised himself, meeting her eyes that were warm and wild with affection that he almost didn't recognize.

"Are you hurt?" He whispered quietly, brushing damp hair from her fevered eyes. Eliesse blushed slightly, shaking her head in response to his gentleness. Jon smiled small, staring at the girl under him with intense adoration.

She was his.

And always would be.

"Again, Jon, please…" Eliesse suddenly spoke, sitting up slightly. Jon stared into her eyes in shock and lust as her words trickled deliciously back up his spine and through his groin. "I need it. I need you" she muttered, searching his eyes for approval. She reached between them, finding he had never subsided or lost his arousal. She touched him softly, encouraging him to come closer once more.

Jon stared back, unsure if she knew what she asked of the bastard…

...but he obliged nonetheless and poured himself into the girl once more, taking her many times into the night on the Godswood floor.

And the great, weirwood tree watched ominously of the bastard and his lady at its root.