Author's Note: The faves and follows make me so happy! Don't worry, the action will pick up soon and I took a scene from the books and replaced it from a scene in the tv show. It's nothing major though.

Minstorai: I always loved Ros and I wanted to see more of her and I'm still hurt she's gone. Haha, I'm glad you liked it. I wasn't sure how I was going to go about it. I kinda regret not having Jon be the one that's it. *Squeals* I'm glad you like it. Way grateful, I'd think she be shell-shocked if Tormund even told Austin the story about Shella. She'd be so pissed. I'd like to think she would like Tormund though, but cringe a lot when he talked. ( Tormund is the best; weird, but the best! ) Thank you so much. Your reviews make me so happy!


The sight of the direwolf pups made her all the more leery and keep a reasonable distance at times. Regardless at how acquiescent they could be, she had mixed feelings about them still. They were cute now but they would grow and they would live up to their names and dark reputations behind them. Jon had chalked it up to her being afraid of them and tried to sweeten the blow by letting her pet Ghost; his albino direwolf. It was wary of her too but allowed such suggestions since Jon was trusting of her, but she only felt more afraid of them than comforted by even the thought of petting him. Even now, as she sat beside Sansa, she kept her eyes on Lady whenever she could. If it weren't for the task she was doing, she could've possibly burned holes through the wolf with her eyes alone.

The light furs they adorned kept them warm from that quick, sharp chill that was riding in the breeze. It would make you shiver when it brushed against your skin, leaving a trail of goosepimples in its wake. It hadn't stopped her though or ruined much of the outing; her fingers were still working themselves away, nimble as she tried to make the pace much quicker. The healer was weaving strong, green stems into a fine and secure braid. Her eyes wanted to avert from it to observe the wolf but she knew this was more in need of her attention. Sansa had wanted a crown of flowers, specifically pink Magnolias that the healer found in the outskirts of the town. Sansa loved them when she first saw them and asked if she could have a few, but Amara promised her a crown, which made the young girl's face light up with a beaming smile.

As they sat on the moss-covered stones in the Godswood, Sansa kept moving her dress in order to not dirty the hem of it. "The King will be coming to Winterfell any day now." said the thick, auburn-haired girl with her sweet smile adorning her face. The healer knew that this excitement wasn't because of the king per se, but more so for the eldest prince that the girl possibly was hoping to take a fancy to.

Ros had already told her of the arrival of the king after everyone had heard the death of the Hand, Jon Arryn, and wondered if he would enter the brothel himself. Most of the girls in brothel were so curious about it because everyone in Westeros knew how much the king loved to lay with anyone pretty and willing while drunk off his horse. Amara had felt pity for the queen upon knowing that, but Lady Catelyn told her that woman was "undeserving" of such pity. It was clear that there was some strife between them but Amara never found the time to ask why. Then there was a reputation behind a certain brother of the queen that was coming too, which made her a little only somewhat interested about the king's arrival.

With a smile, she added a Calla Lily into the braid. "Are you hoping to see Prince Joffrey?" Already aware of the answer, she knew that this was a conversation that Sansa had wanted. It was best to be fleshed out so that the girl could say everything that she wanted to. That was how you had to converse with her, Amara had learned that during the times she spent with her.

"Yes!" The redhead nearly blushed at her sudden enthusiasm, "I heard he's handsome." Her hands seemed restless, constantly moving in her lap as she looked at the ground in a rather dreamy gaze. Her mind kept conjuring up images of the prince and how he would behave with such nobility and grace. He would be everything she ever wanted, of that she was most definitely sure of. Nothing could tell Sansa otherwise.

The girl was still young, so of course her mind still believed in songs and stories of what fairytales written and drawn love to be. The healer did not fault her for this but neither was she sure if she should encourage such daydreams. After knowing firsthand that love was not like chirping birds or blooming Spring flowers, but more so like hurtful thorns of a bewitching rose or being in the eye of a storm; both beautiful yet frightening as it was a chaotic force. "What if, my lady…" Unsure if she should say it, she kept on anyway, "the Prince isn't everything you dream of him to be? You ought to limit yourself for some people do not live up to our expectations of them."

A look of thought came quick across the young girl's face but it was quickly swept away by the currents of her reverie. "I'm positively sure that won't be the case." Confident, as well as iron-willed, the young girl firmly nodded to further cement her words. Amara didn't argue but she hoped her words lingered in the girl's mind, at least once during the time of the prince's arrival. "Have you ever been in love before?" Sansa inquired, eyes swirling with curiosity. "What is love like? Mother says it is a thing you work for; it's not instant like in books and stories."

To that, Amara could agree wholeheartedly to Lady Stark's words. No matter how much they hadn't seen eye-to-eye on many things, she could definitely say they were leveled in regards to that. Yet what made Amara so unsure was whether the Lady of Winterfell was speaking of her own experience with her husband or just in general. Never had Amara had the thought or chance to ask in efforts to discover the roots of their marriage. It was never her place to ask and she never once thought about it until now. However, there was definitely no easy way to explain something like love to Sansa.

"I was infatuated when I was young, near your age when I was betrothed." Keeping her eyes on the task, her pacing had slowed down as she began lengthening the chain as she spoke. "Qasar was a warrior, a fine one, and he fought with my family in the Bone Mountains of Yi Ti. Our people were once rivals for many years but we decided to come together through marriage." The young girl looked at the healer's face, trying to read her expression. There was nothing to read though since the woman remained vacant, building a wall around her as she usually had. Maybe the story had made the woman grow cold when remembering, Sansa thought.

"Qasar was very sweet and kind to me." A small smile presented itself on the woman's lips, capturing Sansa's attention since it left rather quickly. "He would bring me flowers, mainly red Camellias. I thought I loved him because I enjoyed spending time with him… Then I realized that it was more or less me forcing myself to love him because I had no choice for I would be his wife. Marriage for highborns isn't out of love, but out of power; I was too young, too naïve, to realize that."

"So…" Trying to make sense of it, the young girl tilted her head in thought. "You're saying you do not know the difference since you thought you loved him when you really didn't?"

"I'm saying that I liked him because he was kind to me and because he would be my husband." Carefully inspecting the chain, she glanced at the shape of the girl's head to see if it would fit before weaving the ends of the stems into the first Magonlia's. "I had no reason other than that to love him, and that is not what love is. Do not think you are in love, never think it, my lady. You must know it for love is a feeling, not a thought."

It hadn't mattered in the end since Sansa was completely sure that she would fall in love with Joffrey at first sight. A part of her did decide to remember Amara's words out of consideration however. Her eyes gazed at the beautiful crown of flowers, hoping that Amara had finished it. "There." Crowning the red-haired girl, like a queen, she watched the way the girl's natural beauty seemed to become more breathtaking with the flowers' stems matching her green dress and the petals themselves highlighting the true red of her hair. "You look beautiful, my lady."

"Really?" Wanting to see how she looked, she stood as her graceful fingers briefly touched the soft sepals of one of the Magnolias as she grew eager to see in her reflection. "Should we show mother?"

"I'm sure Lady Catelyn wouldn't mind to see it." Without another word, the girl grabbed her hand and Amara was forced to her feet. The sound of leaves crunching below their feet in a steady rhythm that rippled away the memories of Qasar that recently came in waves through her memories. He was becoming less and less visible in her mind's eye now as she focused on the sounds of Sansa's giggles. The enchanting sound provided voice to the music of nature that consisted of the sounds of swaying trees from the unseeable wind and the ruffling of leaves of the red leafs of the Heart tree.

The trees around them were starting to change in a dream-like way, fading and becoming viridescent before her to be the rainforests she had grown up around. Her eyes dilated with a mixture of wistfulness and horror as the sound of Sansa's giggles changed into a richer, deeper laughter that was obviously a boy's. Blue irises began to see no more of Sansa, but a young boy instead. A young boy with long, obsidian hair that was tied into a tight and neat braid that cascaded down to the middle of his back. His head slowly turned to gaze at her from over his shoulder, giving her the bright and golden eyes of her father because of their grandmother of Leng.

Her lips trembled as her eyes began to glass with clear, salty droplets that wanted so desperately to fall. That face belonged to no other person than Naran. Her mind conjured up this older version of him, of what she would believe he would look like now. No longer a boy, but very much a man now. How cruel can memories be? His face was haunting her now, even while the sun was in full display and she was completely awake. He was giving her these smiles that had been only meant for her but they were no longer a sight she wishes to see. They had not made her warm but served to make her writhe inside out from the invisible pangs of guilt that skewered away at her. That boy, a happy one; a sweet one. He was that no longer and she was the only one to blame for that.

"Sister!" She could hear him say. The overwhelming layer of an YiTish accent taking the power of Common Tongue away, "Tell me that we'll run away together."

"Of course!" She heard her own voice, young and much more happier in tone. It was a time where she was blissfully unaware of the future that was crawling its way closer. "Where would I go without you, Naran? There's no place I'd rather be without you beside me. I'll never leave you… not now or ever."

It was a subconscious thing, the reason why she held onto Sansa's petite hand much more firmly. She tried to force herself away from the memories that were merging too much with reality. How crazy did she look right now? Her eyes must've looked so completely void and wide because it was lost in a better place in her mind. Sansa's face morphed from happiness to panic in a matter of seconds, stopping her run to grab hold of both of Amara's hands. "Amara!" She called out to her, bringing the woman completely out of her trance and slowly turn to look at the redhead girl before her. "Are you all right? What is the matter?" Her voice was laced so heavily with concern.

With a vigorous nod and a forced smile, Amara began to try to ease the girl from any sort of worries. "But of course, my lady, I was simply thinking of something."

It was clear that Sansa was doubtful of her explanation and Amara was grateful that the girl cared enough to pry. "Are you sure?" She questioned, "If you want, we could talk about it."

Shaking her head out of refusal, the healer kept her smile. "Yes, I am sure." Blinking away her tears, she had hoped her voice wasn't too weak as it was holding little quakes here and there as she continued to will herself not to cry. "Now come on, let us go." She urged her, glad that Sansa kept on. The girl still held her hand resolutely, letting the other go as they kept on except they were walking now in a slow, comforting pace with Sansa leading her. Lady was at their feet, walking alongside them, letting out a few barks every now and then.

Lady Catelyn was still preparing for the arrival of the king, and so it shouldn't have been much of a surprise that finding her was going to be quite a feat in itself. After some searching, they found her at the Great Hall in Winterfell, giving orders left and right. Amara admired the strong authority the woman held. She was every bit of a lady or a leader most like, and she thought that if Lady Catelyn had ever wielded a weapon or tried her hand at war, she'd be formidable. "Mother!" Sansa called out to her, making the older woman turned to look at her. "What do you think of my crown? Amara made it for me."

With a smile, she gathered her skirts and walked over to them to examine the crown of flowers closely. With her graceful strides, her eyes were drinking up the sight of the floral ringlet adorning her eldest girl's head. "They are beautiful." She said, inclining her head forward as her hand rose to let the tip of her slender fingers skim over the soft sepals. "What are these flowers called?"

"Magnolias." Amara answered, her eyes looking at the flowers now. "Lady Sansa really seems to love them. They grow in the outskirts of Wintertown, but we won't be seeing much of them since they are wilting away as all flowers due in Autumn."

Her hands folded before her, her eyes glancing away from the crown to watch Lady Catelyn's pupils continue to appraise the flowers once more before shifting her focus to her now. "I can see why she loves them." She commented, her voice soft and a slight smile on her lips. Her face had soon hardened, probably from a thought that came to the forefront of her mind. She looked more stern now, "Have either of you seen Brandon?"

The healer shook her head but there was a knowing smirk on her face, "No, I haven't." She answered, "But I can guess what he's doing right now." Lady Catelyn let out a long exhale since she too knew what Bran was probably—actually was—up to. "If you'd like, I can go look for him. I have to leave soon anyway."

Grateful of the offer, the woman refused. "No, I'll look for him." Catelyn insisted. "I don't know how many times I have to warn him about climbing the walls, but boys will be boys." Gathering her skirts against, she glanced at Amara. "I hope we can speak again soon, I'm sorry neither one of us has had the time to talk much."

"I hope so too, and we are both busy women." With a smile, she was glad to see the Tully-born give her one in return. "Hopefully, we'll have the time to talk over a cup of tea, but until then…" With a nod, Catelyn fled out of the Great Hall and down the corridor.

"Where will you be going?" Sansa asked, eyes studying her with question. Amara always seemed so busy nowadays and rarely had time for them; them being her and her siblings, she meant. "You didn't even stay long last time and now you're leaving again so early?"

"I'm sorry." Lowering her head some with her apology, she let out a rather tired sigh. "Many people are coming to town since Winter is on the approach, that leaves me and the staff with many more patients these days. Even outsiders who do not even intend on staying come to the clinic after learning what I've done for your sister. They think I'm a God or something…" She mumbled the last bit, annoyed how some people thought she could do the impossible these days.

Nodding, the redhead understood the sudden change of things as well as the pressure. "It is because you are a good healer. You should be making a lot of coins, right?"

"I suppose," Amara shrugged, "but I tend to give some of them away. Austin and I do not need all of what I earn."

Shocked, Sansa blinked several times in her astonishment. "What?! Are you mad?! You should keep it and buy yourself nice things like dresses and jewelry. You should treat yourself to things."

With a chuckle, the young woman shook her head as she shifted her feet in place. "I have no need for things like that. I only buy what is needed."

How could the woman treat herself so poorly? Sansa couldn't fathom why she wouldn't care to dress herself up and look beautiful if she wanted. How could she walk around, dressed in that same black garb, without care? It was hard to believe that there were women out there that didn't care about their appearance. Then again, it wasn't all too shocking after growing up with Arya. She was the same. The girl rather wore breeches than dresses, which made her older sister shudder.

"When will you be able to visit again? Hopefully in time to meet Prince Joffrey, right?" Unsure of why Sansa wanted her to meet him, she gave her a slight shrug. She could not give the girl any promises for she was never sure just how busy the days will be, probably more so with the arrival of the King and the guests that would come to see him. Sansa understood and didn't fault her despite how much she wanted to prove to the healer that Prince Joffrey was all Sansa dreamed him to be.

"Oh, and one thing before I go," Amara reached into her right sleeve with her left hand and pulled out what looked to be a freshly new book. "Give this to Lady Arya for me."

"What is it?" Sansa inspected it, daring to open it to read its contents but decided to push her nosiness aside.

"As you know your sister is interested in a few things of Yi Ti. I promised her to tell her some things, but due to me being busy I had found more time to write it then come teach her instead." Amara explained, "Nothing you'd be interested in knowing though, it is mainly about archery and such."

Sansa's face showed her lack of interest, a slight frown of disappointment in her features. "You never tell me if there's anything kind of Yi Ti, like what the noblewomen are like."

She meant to say, Amara never told her of the feminine royalty of Yi Ti. Amara could read between the lines and even found herself chuckling at how obvious she was, "It varies between the realm." Amara said, "Beauty is the main purpose of a woman's life in Yi Ti and she ruled the home, especially when you are highborn. It's not something worth bragging about since bound feet was still a thing since I was last there."

"Bound feet?" Amara nearly cringed at the memory, thinking of the painful ordeal of the pinching shoes and tight wrappings she had to wear to keep her feet small.

"I'll tell you more another time." Seeing the girl's smile made her feel easier about ending the conversation. "Until then, enjoy your crown. The flowers won't last long… " Her hand reached down the ends of her hair, already seeing half of a stem of one of the Calla flowers broken off. "See? Flowers are very sensitive beings."

"I'll try to be careful of it." The young girl promised, her eyes looking up to try to see the crown above her. "Take care, Amara. I hope you come back soon."

With a nod, they bid their goodbyes and Amara turned to make her leave out of Winterfell. In the middle of her walk, she did dare look to see if Jon was around somewhere but hadn't caught a glimpse of him. What could he be up to today? Maybe he was helping around in preparation of the King's arrival? Possibly so. And what of Robb? She was sure he didn't have work to do but she hadn't seen much of him either. Maybe it was a good thing she hadn't seen them because she was sure they would've convinced her to stay had they seen her.

As she walked to Wintertown, she was grateful for the silence but annoyed about the wind. It made her clutch at her furs, bringing them closer for warmth since the breeze hadn't warmed or let up by a fraction. It made her feet move faster, hoping that she moved in a pace that took her where she needed to go more quickly. She wanted to be inside of her home, by a fire, but she knew the place she had to go to was the brothel, but home was not comfortably a place she could spend an hour or so in. Ros was very much adamant on having that oil Amara let her have before, the one that smelled of wintergreen and white flowers. It made your skin cold like a sharp intake at first but then flooded you with the kind of warmth that was pleasing. Not only did it smell great but it had other medicinal properties as well. Of course, Ros didn't want the other girls to have it and so she always made sure that she received it in a conspicuous way. Never the one to enjoy competition, Amara couldn't understand why Ros always felt the need to be a step ahead. She was already gorgeous and her personality was nothing short of alluring.

At her home, she found that the place was just as cold as outside. It wasn't a large one, but big enough for Austin and herself to have their separate rooms. The fireplace did not have a lick of a flame for her paranoia always made her make sure that the house wouldn't be burned to ashes whenever she was away. She also warned Austin to be careful with it, always fearing he'd hurt himself. Even now, she did somewhat hope that she'd see the boy's face as soon as she came home. He was still in school however, and she just wasn't used to going back home in an empty house anymore. Austin either stayed at home while she was in the clinic or came to the clinic to come back home with her. It became the norm; a perfect routine. Not letting her silly worries best her, she grabbed what she needed and made her way to the infamous whorehouse of Wintertown: The Woolly Cat.

Upon her arrival, the place was already full with customers and loiters alike. Plenty of men who could not afford the service of one of the girls would stay around and drink, enjoying conversation and staring instead. Why would a person do that? Amara had no idea, but some men felt if they couldn't have it then they could at least stare if they were kind enough to not take a woman by force. It hadn't surprised her to see Ros, sitting on a man's lap with her lips spread in a smile and a pleasant laughter escaping her. Ros enjoyed attention, lots of it, and it made her, oddly enough, much more radiant. She was what people would call a social butterfly if you wanted to word it correctly.

Unsure of what to do, to either grab her attention or merely wait for her to notice her, Amara stood with her eyes cautiously looking around. Plenty of times she had to remind others she was neither a sally or a customer but people didn't really care what you said for your presence here made them automatically assume. It had gotten to a point where she just didn't bother giving an explanation anymore and received odd looks because of it. Either way, she never cared what people thought of her.

"Amara!" The voice made her smile some, her head shyly looking to the floor as she heard quick steps come towards her. Her hands were immediately grabbed, her eyes finally looking up to see Ros' blue ones staring at her with a smile. "I've been waiting all day for you. I was so, so lonely~""

Skeptical, her brow hitched. "Really?" Peering over the girl's shoulder and inclining her head towards the men she was just with, her eyes slowly shifted to look back at her friend. "You didn't look so lonely to me."

"That's work." Ros immediately verbally pushed the men aside as if they held no meaning, "But you, my friend, are my play~"

With a snort, she couldn't help but let a smile grace her face much more genuinely this time. No matter what, Ros made her smile in even the most impossible situations. "Now did you bring me what I've been begging for these past few days?"

Nodding, she watched Ros grin happily as she pulled her over towards the back to the more private sitting areas. After taking their seats, Amara conspicuously slid the bottle over until Ros' hands covered it completely from sight to place it in her corset with her eyes searching for any prying eyes. "Did you come from seeing Jon?" She asked, watching Amara go rigid as a coy smile played about on her lips. "What? I'm just asking."

"No, I did not." Keeping a straight face, she looked around in hopes that none of the other women or men had heard what she said. "Why would I need to see him?" Remaining in her calm disposition, she watched as Ros seemed to take her words with a grain of salt. It was obvious when Ros didn't believe you, she had this look about her face that seemed so downright mischievous.

"O'please," the girl waved her hand, "spare me that. You get so starry-eyed when you speak of him. You're besotted with the boy, no need to lie. We are friends, remember?"

A wave of heat began to rise to her face, her mind in a debacle if she had been so obvious about these damning feelings. Amara was well aware that she purely liked Jon, but she did not love him. Besotted? Hadn't she been that way before? Infatuated because she had no other choice, but her feelings now were because she was free. So no, she couldn't say it wasn't the same and she had hoped it really wasn't her mind merely thinking this. Maybe talking to this with Ros was a good thing? No, no. It wasn't. She'd be too vulnerable and susceptible to the teasing season Ros would prance through. "I am not!" Her words came out a little fierce but the volume wasn't loud, which she was grateful for.

Not taking offense by the narrowing of Amara's eyes or the bite in her bark, Ros kept her grin and decided to let this ease for a bit. Provoking was what Ros did best but because she cared for Amara ( and mocking her was too easy now when it came to Jon ). She would leave it alone until she found a better opening. "Alright," Her voice softened, "I'll leave you be about it, for now." Her eyes then looked around, hoping to see a ray of sunshine in form of a small boy around. "Where's my favorite man?"

"Still in school." Relieved, she replied much more lightheartedly. "He'll be upset to know I'm here without him. You know he's in love with you, don't you? And even plans to marry you when he is of age. At least, that's what he told me." Still remembering that declaration the boy gave, her hands rested in her lap, folded neatly as her hair brushed against her face while she lowered her head.

With eyes lit up in surprise, Ros revealed her dimple with her smile. "Is that so? I never imagined being someone's wife, but if it is Austin, I'll make an exception."

"He'll be too young for you." Not buying it, Amara shifted a bit in her seat with lips pursed. "But I'm not strong enough to tell him that you don't seem content with married life."

"It's so boring!" Ros shrugged, "And I'd rather have my own fun than have a man taking care of me and reminding me what I was whenever he's angry with me. At least I can look a man in the eye now and say: "Yes, I am a whore and you paid for my services." If I were a wife, I'd have to act as if I never was and be ashamed if it is ever brought to my attention. I like who I am and I will never be ashamed of myself neither."

It was the truth. A very harsh one but the truth nonetheless, and Amara couldn't help but nod in bitter agreement. Once you were a sally, you would always be considered one no matter if you married a highborn or a commoner. It followed you and people would never let you live it down, but there was something amazing in Ros though. She accepted what she was without shame. Truth be told, Amara couldn't understand why Ros liked her job in the first place but she never questioned it.

After all, what fun was there to be had in pleasing men of varying personalities and sizes and having such personal space invaded continuously? And then these men ( and even women ) felt they could say whatever they wanted or hurt you because they spent coin on you. How could anyone find fun in such a job? It was worse enough she dealt with several personalities as a healer, she couldn't imagine ever being a sally by force let alone by choice.

"Although I'm sure Austin will be a lovely husband and I envy his future wife, I'm no good for him." There was a sense of yearning in her words, which made Amara frown upon realization. Maybe in the past Ros had hopes to marry and settle down, but could not find the one she trusted or found worthy of such a life with. That sounded completely strange though due to how beautiful and sweet Ros was. How could she of all people not find a person just right for her? Amara reached over to give the girl's hand a sympathetic pat. "Don't baby me, Amara." With a kittenish tone, she provided her signature mischievous grin that went from ear to ear. "You already tease me enough by not coming to bed with me for girlish fun."

With a roll of her eyes, her ears were filled by the sweet laughter of the redhead. There were plenty of times Ros wanted their friendship to go further than just talks and hugs, but Amara was not willing. Amara never laid with a man before and she hadn't thought of lying with a woman either. Physical pleasure never skimmed across her mind and she was sure it would not make her a fool like she had seen men and women become for it. "But if I were a handsome bastard, I'm sure you wouldn't deny me~"

With a groan, the healer closed her eyes and laid her head down briefly on the table top to keep her face from view. After a few minutes, she lifted her head so that her eyes could look up at her friend. "That is not true, Ros."

"You like the poor man and you'd deny him if he asked too? What a cruel girl you are." Although it was just teasing, Amara couldn't help but feel embarrassed by the subject. Maybe this was how Jon felt whenever Robb or Theon teased him about his virginity. It was a funny thing to have a glimpse of what it was like to be in his boots over something so trivial.

"Jon wouldn't ask me that." She replied haughtily, thinking she knew Jon well enough to know that he would never say something like that. "He is my friend."

"A friend you like and that I'm sure you had fantasies about." Gathering Amara's hands in hers, Ros eyes crinkled as she leaned forward. "Tell me, I always tried to imagine how he'd look beneath those Stark leathers."

"I haven't once thought of it or let alone seen him without a shirt." Not that she thought about it, of course. She hadn't and what she said was the simple truth. Amara, back in Yi Ti, had seen many men without tunics and the like since they usually trained in their trousers alone due to the tropical waves of heat they were used to. Not once had she thought anything of it though, it was something she was purely accustomed to. When she thought of Jon being outside, training without a shirt, she merely thought it impractical. It was far too cold and he wasn't as reckless to have his flesh cut during training with a sword.

With a defeated sigh, Ros leaned back and let go of Amara's hands. "You're so prude. You're far too young to be so prudent about these things; live a little, have fun."

"I do have fun!" A bit defensive, she curled and uncurled her fists as she stared down at the table. "Just not in the ways you do."

"Which makes you a prude, love." Ros shook her head, resting her cheek against her palm as her eyes carefully studied the healer. No matter how much Ros cared for her, she could never convince Amara to fully leave her shell. The young woman was too modest yet at times loose in her playful manners. She was very proud and independent yet she was deeply wounded and needed someone to look out for her. How long could she, only a girl of seven and ten, continue to act as if she was living truly to herself? Parts of the Amara was missing and sharp, and she just wouldn't let anyone too close. Not in fear for them to hurt themselves but in fear of giving her more hurt in the process.

No matter, Ros knew she could be the one to take care of her. Amara won't let her right now, but she'll work her way and maybe Jon could help too. Austin was already the only attachment that girl so fiercely loved and openly acknowledged. "You know, Amara, there's more to life than Austin and the clinic."

Confused, her eyes looked up to Ros' in question. "What do you mean?"

"I meant to say that you can't keep stalling your life. Don't let Austin and the clinic be all that there is." Curling the ends of her already curly, red hair, she continued with her elucidation. "Austin will soon grow to be a man and will no longer need you and the clinic will be all that you have. Do you mean to tell me that you do not wish to love or leave? You'll stay in Wintertown forever and alone with your eyes stuck on a man you cannot fully have?"

Startled at the sudden interrogation, Amara found herself wanting to reel away from the topic. Her eyes couldn't meet Ros', simply closing for a second before finding themselves staring down at her lap rather absently. "I've lived a life I'm not at all happy with." It wasn't her intention to have her voice low, making it hard to hear and for Ros to lean in to catch what she said. "But I'm lucky to be alive and I'll feel luckier if there's a time where I can live long enough to call this life I live boring. For now, let me be happy being Austin's mother and taking care of the ailing. This is what I chose, so I will see it through."

With a sigh, the red-haired woman crinkled her nose. "You are so difficult." She murmured, "But I suppose that's what I like about you. You make things way harder than it should be." With no argument nor further question, Ros let a wave of silence linger between them.

"Thank you, Ros, for worrying about me." Upon knowing Ros was somewhat irritated by her lack of changes, she was glad that Ros still tried. It was assuring to know that no matter what decision either one of them made, it hadn't affected their friendship. 'Truthfully, Ros, the Lion of Night is telling me that there will be a price I have to pay. I must live without taking much more, I'll lead a life atoning for all the things I've done.' Swallowing her thoughts as if it were a bitter medicine, she hoped she was right.

"Well, this is a odd one."

In the oddest way, the voice had a drawing effect. It made you want to listen and at the same time, it stood out among the noise; which was hard since the brothel was filled with drunken ( and often loud ) chinwags and women moaning out of forced and sometimes actual pleasure. It was enough to make both Amara and Ros turn to look only to find that their answer was lower than they sought. Amara's eyes blinked twice out of incertitude before slowly traveling down to catch the full sight of a man half-sized. The appearance did not bring shock, it instead made her more curious. Never could she recall seeing a dwarf in Wintertown and if there was one or more, she must've overlooked them.

Ros' eyes had widened for only a split second as her eyes stayed glued to him. She watched as he casually pulled back a chair and got himself seated with a little but nothing dramatic bit of struggle. Once he was upright, hands on the table, his eyes glanced between them both before keeping themselves fixated on the healer. "When I think of northern girls and all of what they say about them," He began to say, eyes twinkling with interest, "I surely don't come to think of a girl that looks like you." Amara, with no awareness of what was said of "Northern girls", had become nonplussed with hopes that Ros could fill her in.

Unfortunately, it seemed as if she just going to be left in a world of confusion for Ros was too interested, too entertained, by this man. Was it out of duty of her job or was Ros actually captivated by this man they had no idea was named? Deciding to speak in hopes to clear his obvious questions, she gave her head a slight tilt with her face etched in an expression of curiosity attached with fragments of confusion. "I think you are well aware that I am indeed not a northern girl." She replied with a neutral voice as he ordered himself some wine in spite of the timing of the day.

With a goblet that looked entirely opulent, there was the sound of wine being poured along with his soft 'ahhh'. The question was lingering on her tongue, inching close to be said than to be kept within. Why was he being treated so highly? Who was he? His clothes did look like they were made from fine material. Was he a nobleman of the sort? Whoever he was, he had some importance because she could definitely feel eyes at their table and her ears could not pick up on what was said in the whispers. "You wish to bed my friend here?" Her mind became blank, her head whipped towards her redhead friend in disbelief. "She's not a sally, I'm afraid, but I will be more than enough."

Was that… seduction? Miffed by how she was thrown under the wagon for business, her brows fought not to knit together and she definitely fought harder not to glare. Her lips just thinned and her eyes dared to look at anything that wasn't them. It felt stupid to be annoyed by this for this was Ros' place of work and so she shouldn't interfere or stay longer than necessary.

The man ahhed again but not in a surprised way that was hinted before. It seemed as if he knew or at least, she just confirmed his thoughts. With another gulp of the red, alcoholic drink, he wiped his mouth clean with a smooth stroke of the back of his hand. "And here I thought I could have you both." His disappointment wasn't great and it left Amara uneasy. Who was this man? She had to ask herself again and again until she got a smidgen of a clue. "Since I can only have one, which I'm not complaining about, I'll let you say your goodbyes. I hope they won't take too long, I'm usually patient but time is of the essence I'm afraid."

Adamant, wasn't he? Ros was beautiful, no doubt. She was also the most popular girl in the brothel at that, and so she shouldn't have been surprised. Still a little vexed at how this went about, Amara pushed her chair back to hear it screech as the bottom end of the legs scraped across the wooden floor. "Are you content with leaving me, Amara?" Ros asked, blue eyes up and staring since the healer stood.

Unable to keep her irritation, she gave an honest a reply. "Whether I do or don't doesn't matter." Her eyes briefly glanced at the dwarf, "But I know I must. What I came here for has been accomplished," Her eyes shifted back to Ros, "has it not?"

"Most definitely." With a wink, the healer merely shook her head and found herself able to give a minuscule smile.

"Goodbye, sir. Maybe next time I'll learn your name."

There was a glint of amusement, a slight tug of his lips. Did this woman really not know who he was? A part of him gave an excuse for her because it was plainly obvious that this girl wasn't Westerosi and another part of him believed that this girl might've seen many dwarfs in her lifetime. With that idea, just who would he be to her? Just another who crossed her path no less. Back to her origin, he easily concluded that this girl had to have been from the Jade sea. In his lifetime, he had seen many of whores and non-whores alike with those shape eyes and distinctive facial features. The only strange thing that really sat out upon the rest was the strong color of her eyes.

He suspected that may she was not completely of the Jade sea. A parent of hers had to have made her inherit those eyes of hers. In fact, there was something strongly Rhoynar about her and that made her twice as intriguing to him. He could never say he bedded a woman of Rhoyne descent. Even as she left the room with such an odd presence about her, he watched until there was nothing to see of her before flicking his eyes to Ros with a look of lasciviousness and anticipation.

:::

"I don't want to wear this."

Childish as it might've made her sound, she said it anyway. The iron weight of her stubbornness was so clearly etched in her features. Lady Catelyn wasn't one to accept refusal, especially over things like this. Even as her eyes were watching the healer, who held the dress up to her form and was cringing at the grey color. Black was always Amara's color and she didn't want to give it up again like she had gave it up for red the last time and most certainly not now for grey. Black was the color she liked most. It was the color that was most fitting of her.

"You will wear this." Her words were as hard as stone and there was no changing her mind. Amara dared not to pout even though a great part of her wanted to. Instead, she looked down at the dress with the mighty disdain in her eyes before looking at the bright eyes of the Stark woman. "You decided to join us upon my request and Austin's plea." She reminded her—more like scolded her. Like a mother at times, Lady Catelyn had no qualms of putting you in your place or for reminding you of what you agreed to and how you'd be doing a great disservice to yourself and others if you went back on your word. "Sansa expects you there and Arya does too. Now get on with it and put on the dress."

If you had been there to bear witness of them both, you might've thought they were mother and child. As much as Amara missed her mother greatly and admired as well as respected Lady Catelyn, she was not fond of the idea of being told what to do after being independent for so long. "Aye." Her voice was entirely low, but the older woman heard her well enough. With a smirk of victory, she gave a firm nod before walking out the room to give Amara, for once, some privacy to change.

She had let the stray hairs in front of her face be blown by the huff of air from the short-lived raspberry she blew. Her eyes dared to look at the mirror to study if the dress complimented her as Lady Catelyn said it would. It wasn't extravagant, she would gladly say it was plain, but it would fit close to the body to give sight of your curves if you had any. The sleeves were long too but that may have been because of the chill that worsened during the moon's domain. Had it been warmer, she was sure there'd be no sleeves.

After blusters and a much needed bath, she eased herself into the dressed and laced it up herself. Her hair was a bit damp, giving it that wavy look, but that opted her to try a new hairstyle. She had brushed it back, showing more of her face, which made her feel insecure right away. With her usual style, it kind of made her hair like a curtain, willing to hide her whenever she gave the right movements of her head. Now, with this, you could see the true oval shape of her face and her lashes looked quite a sight of their own too now; thick, superlative and finely black that surrounded almond shaped eyes of dark blue irises. Her eyes already made her stand out and now if she showed them this much? She was sure the attention would heighten and it made her want to hide.

'You can't hide forever.'

Her mind was still in shambles from earlier, but it was right with that thought. After being haunted by a ghost of someone who still holds life, it did surprisingly wanted to rid her of timorous showers that rained over her. Why was it that when she was truly by herself that she begun to realize just how much her pride—or the remnants of the confidence she had when she was younger—was nothing like it was before? Her pride was false now, broken shards of who she once was in desperate search to add them to who she wanted to be. Who she claimed to be now.

These thoughts had nothing to do with the King nor his family and it had nothing to do with the Starks either. It had nothing to do with anyone, but the fact that she was still in hiding and pretending. Hiding from the Amara she once knew in efforts to create a new one; a self that she liked. How many times could she lie to herself that she was different and that her life was beginning anew? How could she begin anew with a past that haunts her and her inability to find the beauty of truly moving forward? This dress wasn't like her and it wasn't she was deserving of wearing it. This role as a healer, she wasn't deserving of it. Austin, that sweet boy, was deserving of someone better than her.

All because she was alone with flickering candles making shadows dance on the walls, did she deconstruct herself. All in efforts to allow her to rebuild herself all over again with childish hope. With lies.

Alone.

She deserved to be alone.

Part of her, white and bright with fragile purity, made her stand on her feet after sinking in those thoughts. It made her leave the agony of the loneliness and self-hatred that was blooming inside of her in that room. It made her hurry up and walk the halls even though she could guess that she was probably late and missed the arrival of the royal family and the Starks. Austin was possibly already in the Great Hall, having himself a grand time. He was so eager to meet the King and the Queen and also eager to meet the Princes and Princess. Possibly every commoner boy hoped to see the man they served, right? Amara didn't feel excitement about them at all really. What was a king or queen to her? She didn't serve them. All she was, was an immigrant healer.

Just standing before the large doors of the Great Hall made her stomach do flips, and it wasn't out of excitement either. When the doors opened for her just to feel that instant and open wave of the feast made her nauseous as well. Why did she come? She didn't want to be here, but she told Sansa she would try and accepted Lady Catelyn's offer as well as heard that Arya expected her too. And there was Austin, who she couldn't abandon just to stay inside their home and have someone bring him back. At least they were offered an apartment if they had felt unable to go home tonight, but she didn't want to stay in Winterfell and overstep any boundaries. The Starks gave her too much hospitality at times.

It was loud, piercingly so, and made her wince whenever a man's laughter was a sound higher than the rest. Giggling women, flirting with whomever would allow it, especially with King Robert. How could the barmaids openly disrespect their Queen? "She is undeserving of your pity." Catelyn's words chimed like bells in her ears and she found her pity moving in the way the Stark woman would want it; dispersing into nothingness.

A cup was suddenly placed in front of her, sort of like an offering gesture. Her eyes didn't want to look up from the floor, but they did to see that it was a barmaid trying to issue her a drink. "Summerwine?" The woman asked, her voice singsong-like despite how forced her smile was. Amara didn't take offense nor blame her for it was a busy night, who could possibly be happy working with so many people and such a ruckus?

Without a second of hesitation, Amara took the cup and had no idea as to why she did. Wine wasn't something she was fond of drinking, she hated the way it liberated one's body from the confines of your mind. It made you lose control of yourself and Amara always was in desperate need to keep herself controlled. The reins she had over herself were so tight and to let herself lose grip, and all because of wine? How dangerous it could be. It could make you behave in such a manner that was unlike yourself and your mind would be too clouded to stop you, and that was truly frightening. Still she had wanted something to calm her fraying nerves, even if it was just by a little bit. Tea would've been a much better solution but there was no need for it in a feast for a king and his men.

Her first sip made her squint and purse her lips. It wasn't because the drink was unpleasant for she liked the sweetness and overwhelming taste of fruit of the ripe grapes that were crushed to make it. Her tastebuds were tingling but her throat and belly had felt unusually ( and almost uncomfortably ) warm after she swallowed. That was another reason why she didn't like wine, it was that burning heat that came before it did a number on you.

The smell of this wine mixed with the strong smells of roasted meat, baked bread, and the smoke of cooking all did not combine well. Then there was to take account of the different odors from the people that mixed with one another's since they were in such close quarters. The combination of scents made her keep her squint and also made her frown, which must've made her look completely unapproachable now. It wasn't that she wanted someone to come talk to her but if they had wanted to, she was sure they backed away now.

Laughter, mixed conversations, and a singer all at once? Along with the strong smells and this summerwine, she was surprised she hadn't immediately gotten a headache. The sudden sound of a harp was lulling to her though, making Amara's cooling nerves quicken the process with the strength of the wine. Her shoulders slumped some, muscles relaxing, as her hands kept themselves wrapped around the cup and her ears keened into the lyrics as much as they could. You could barely hear the singer but it was worth it when you could. He had a nice voice.

It was until a familiar laugh amidst the feast had taken her attention. It made her annoyed how she could hear him out everyone in the room. It made her feel stupid and maybe Ros was right after all as much as she didn't want to admit it. Maybe she was besotted and that her advice should've been for herself and not for Sansa. Her eyes searched in a frenzied way for the owner of that laugh and when she found him, Jon was sitting by the squires. It wasn't odd to her for she was sure that because he was a bastard that he was made to sit so far away from the family. Amara undoubtedly believe it was Lady Catelyn's request too. Yet he seemed unbothered and was speaking with someone to whom she had no idea who the man was. However, she watched in silence because just seeing Jon was strangely enough for her.

Her eyes wanted to look away and she wanted to inwardly prove Ros wrong. Amara couldn't do it though and just kept staring, watching Jon's face keep changing, oddly enough. His expression had morphed from playful to serious in a matter of seconds, and she thought she had seen him straighten his posture to make him appear much more manlier and tall. What was he trying to do? She wondered. It took everything in her to bite back a laugh since laughter came much too easily because of the wine. Bad enough that she was already standing here all by her lonesome, cup of wine in hand, and tickled by what people would virtually think is nothing. The sight of her must've been sad, but she hadn't mind.

Would it be so bad? To be bold that is. If she had walked up and spoke to him, would that have been wrong? The thought process of whether it was right or wrong of her hadn't mattered since her feet were already moving on their own. As she inched closer, she couldn't help but to think what she would say. 'They cut your hair and shaved your face? My, you look so much like a little boy, Jon.' He would've gave her quite the reaction if she said this thought aloud, wouldn't he? There was truth in that thought though, he looked so young now and much less manlier than he had with what little of a beard he had. Amara couldn't help but to find him much more handsome this way and found herself more flustered than she would've liked. Of course, she would never tell him that part. That was something she tucked away in herself, holding onto the memory and the thoughts she had along with it.

"I will never father a bastard!" His words were loud, not loud enough to shake the whole feast, but loud enough that anyone at the table he sat at or close as she had been could hear. "Never!"

All the eyes that belonged to the men at that table were on Jon and never left him either as they were sitting silent now. Amara was shocked since the outburst was unlike him and it had made her fiercely curious of what that man might've said to him. Was it because of the wine that she wanted to confront that man or had it been the sight of the moonless eyes of Jon's that seemed shaky with sadness? Maybe it was both. Didn't she know better and her place?

He was on his feet now, getting himself ready to leave. Jon moved as if he was desperate on getting far away and Amara couldn't blame him. His cheeks were red, but from what? Wine or embarrassment? She hadn't known.

No matter how much his body was trying to warn him he had too much to drink, he whirled from the man he was speaking to after asking to be excused. Despite knowing what he wanted to do and where he wanted his go, he was too drunk to get his feet right and his body disobeyed him and had him swaying. As soon as he spun on his heels, he stumbled right into a barmaid and a cup of wine crashed to the floor. Laughter, so much of it had been done, and Jon felt his face hot and his eyes ready to let tears pour.

His head was hazy, rewinding the scene that just happened and hearing his words echo over and over. His feet moved so messily and he was dipping forward now, almost ready to fall until he was caught; saved. His nose couldn't smell the roasted meat, the baked bread nor the wines that filled the room, but that dewy, Summer rose and that hint of Vanilla bean that he had remembered and savored. He wanted to shrink or disappear now because now he had ruined the look of himself in front of the one person he hadn't wanted to see him in such a state. It was a good thing he was half-blinded by his tears, he didn't want to see her face right now.

Not her. Never her. Not in front of these men, not in the Great Hall during a feast, but not especially in front of Amara did he want to show how upset he was. Tears were prickling at his eyes still and now sliding down to his burning cheeks, he wanted to blame it all for his stupidity for drinking so much. He was drunk, drunk enough for speaking like he had no right to. Speaking so dumbly in front of the very woman he had not wanted to let see him less than how he wanted her to see him. And there she was, helping him do what he could properly do himself but unable to because he was drunk. Part of him didn't mind for this one second to allow her to help him, but it was the laughter of the men that sounded like it came from every which way that woke him out of that.

Amara's hand grabbed at his arm and led him out the doors. Ghost, a growing little pup he was, followed behind them as Amara led him out into the yard, straight into the night. It was eerily quiet and so empty, which was he was somewhat grateful for because he didn't want anyone else to see him. His eyes, blinking away more silly tears, found a lone sentry on the inner wall, alone and pulling at his cloak to keep him warm from the chilling cold. As bored and as miserable as that sentry looked, Jon would've rather been in his shoes than a laughing stock and embarrassing himself in front of Amara. Even now, he so desperately wanted to wipe the stains of tears away before she could catch sight of them.

His throat was burning. Was it out frustration or out of the readiness to cry he had faced? Either thought only served to make him much more angrier at himself. The healer hadn't looked back or said a thing, but kept giving them distance from the festivities even though the music and cheers and laughter hadn't died the farther they moved. He had enough time to wipe away the stains with the sleeves of his shirt with his freehand just right before Amara stopped her leading and turned to face him.

It was obvious what she wanted to ask, at least to him it was. She wanted to ask him if he was alright, but he wasn't sure if it was out of pity or empathy how she would say the words. Surprisingly, she gave him a smile instead and brushed any traces of tears from the corners of his eye and his cheeks with a quick swipe of her thumbs. For a moment, he felt the gentleness of the pads of her fingers yet he noticed her hands were not completely resembling of a noblewoman's. They were rough yet warm, calloused in some ways, but he knew it was because Amara was a working woman and took care of herself now. Jon thought that her hands should've been smooth, she deserved a better life where servants performed her every need.

It still infuriated him that he shed tears over something so stupid. Not only that, Amara caught sight of them and felt the need to wipe them away as if he were a child; as if he were Austin. Men did not cry, babes do, and he was feeling every bit of a baby right now. "Who told you to drink?" Now that, he hadn't expected her to say. His eyes widened some under her playful questioning, "Summerwine and more than one cup at that? You thought you could handle such wine?"

His lips parted to protest, to say that he could handle wine and as many cups given too, but then he'd look like a liar. He couldn't walk a straight line and he said something personal and stupid at that table of squires and in front of his uncle Benjen. He couldn't handle more than one cup of Summerwine because look at all it did right then. "I'm an idiot." The words just slipped but they were painfully true. It was how he felt anyway and she was already aware of that since she seen him in the act.

"Says who?" Her eyes were staring up at him and he found that she did not pity him like he almost thought she would.

"Says I." Jon couldn't keep the eye contact and so he opted to look at the ground, "I know you think it too but you won't say it."

Her heart ached to see him like this. Her means of comfort was to distract him but it hadn't been worked completely. "I don't think you're an idiot." Amara said truthfully.

"And why not?" Brows furrowed, his eyes kept searching for something. "I was practically a jester back there, just making a complete fool of myself. I can't even hold my drink and I'm practically a man grown." There was spice to his words but not towards her, but at himself. He was hard on himself, always was, and she knew that easing him out of that wouldn't be quick. Jon never forgave himself easily, not ever, she noted.

With a snort, she crinkled her nose quickly as her eyes averted from him. "Everyone makes a fool of themselves when drunk, Jon. Did you see the King?" Her eyes shifted back to look at him, seeing a hint of a smile as he thought back about the large, round, and bearded King of Westeros. That man was dancing and singing knowing that Gods well he couldn't do either. He was also openly flirting with anything that had tits and legs in front of his own Queen. That man didn't care how anyone saw him.

"I guess that's true." He wasn't completely there yet, but he almost was and that was enough for her.

"Did you see me? I was squinting like I ate a bowl of sour grapes. I'm not a good drinker either." Now he wished he did see her then. If he had looked for her, like he fleeting thought to, he wouldn't have acted so stupidly. The embarrassment was still there but thinking of Amara's expression had made him snort some, pushing back the memory if only just for a minute.

"Besides, who will remember? Everyone's getting drunk tonight and if you're lucky, you won't remember any of it either." That did bring more comfort than he thought. He nodded slowly, hoping that by tomorrow, nobody remember what he said or done. Not even himself.

His eyes shined with hope now, "You think, so?"

"Yes." She said to him, "But is it okay if I remember?"

Confusion took hold of his face, "Why would you want to remember?"

"Because I came to your rescue." It was silly, but she did feel a swell a pride for that. "You saved me before and so now I saved you." It was odd to not be able to tuck her hair behind her ear for it was already brushed back and it also felt odd to not play with the ends of them. Oh how she wanted to hide her face in her hair right now. "What you've done for me was far greater, but I gave back in some way."

Even after these months, Amara still felt indebted to him for killing that bandit commander. It was true, it wasn't the same, for he saved her life but she only saved his face. Either way, he never thought Amara would still think of that and want to repay him, but part of him couldn't help but wonder if that meant if he had never saved her would things been different? If someone else saved her, Robb for instance, would she not felt the need to save his pride like she did tonight? Jon wouldn't question it although he wanted to. He had to force himself to be grateful for this than to ask would it had been any different under another circumstance.

"That wasn't a debt to be repaid." Jon was aware that no matter if he said that or not, Amara was bent on doing what she wanted.

"I know but I wanted to." She shrugged, "Even if you hadn't saved me, I would've saved you anyway."

Lips parted in shock, his eyes broadened as they gawked at her in disbelief. So, his rescuing had nothing to do with it? Amara would've did this regardless? He was glad. Not even a clip of what happened minutes ago came to mind anymore, he was too happy to let something like that ruin his mood.

"Boy." The voice startled them. Amara jumped slightly, Jon smirking knowing that the woman scared easily for she was not fond of surprises. He slowly turned, Amara peering up to gaze at the voice that called them. "You again?" said the man, surprised to see Amara's face once more and in Winterfell no less.

How did neither of them notice that he was sitting on the ledge that was above the door of the Great Hall? Maybe they dismissed him as a gargoyle, which sounded wrong. The dwarf was looking down at them, grin on his lips, and without much care. "Aye, it is me again." Amara answered, the dark-haired Stark looking at them both, visibly perplexed.

Tyrion's eyes then felt need to look away from them and at Ghost, "Is that animal a wolf?"

"A direwolf." Jon corrected. "His name is Ghost." Still wondering how the two known one another, he decided to ask another question that plagued him. "What are you doing up there? Why aren't you at the feast?"

"Too hot, too noisy, and I'd drunk too much wine." He told him. "I learned long ago that it is considered rude to vomit on your brother. Might I have a closer look at your wolf?"

Amara wanted to laugh, recalling the sight of Jaime Lannister much earlier today. He was a good-looking knight and a clear vision of a male replica of Queen Cersei, but to see him covered in yuck and dealing with a vomiting Tyrion had been an hilarious image in her mind. "Can you climb down or shall I bring a ladder?"

The funny image was ruined, her eyes looking to Jon as she was bit surprised to see him so nice to Tyrion. Then again, why wouldn't he? She was sure Tyrion had done nothing to warrant hostility from him. "I am going to go." She said, eyes looking down.

"What for?" Jon turned to face her, wondering why she'd leave him now.

Her answer was locked in her throat, her eyes glued to Tyrion as he pushed himself off the ledge and right into the open air. Jon had turned to catch it too, gasping as they both watched in shocked awe as the small man spun around in a tight, little ball and landed squarely on his hands before vaulting backward on his stunted legs. Even the direwolf backed away out of uncertainty.

As he dusted himself off and gave out a laugh. He said, "I believe I've frightened your wolf. My apologies."

"He's not scared," Jon argued, kneeling down and calling out to his wolf. "Ghost, come here. Come on. That's it."

Amara watched the wolf pup walking close, nuzzling at Jon's face while also keeping a wary eye on the Lannister. When the small hand of Tyrion reached out to give the wolf a pet on his head, Ghost had drew himself back and bared out his sharp, little fangs in a quiet yet dangerous snarl. "Shy, isn't he?" Out of observation or humor, Amara wasn't sure which one Tyrion said that out of.

"Sit, Ghost." The command was harsh, but Ghost listened as if it all the authority in the world was in Jon's voice. "That's it. Keep still." His dark eyes left the wolf and looked to Tyrion, "You can touch him now. He won't move until I tell him to. I've been training him."

"I see." Was Tyrion reply. He ruffled the snow-white fur between Ghost's ears and said, "Nice."

"If I wasn't here, he'd tear out your throat." Amara's eyes gave Jon an admonishing stare, to which he looked at her to say "What? It's true." It really wasn't though, at least not yet.

"If that is the case then you had best stay close." His eyes then looked at Amara, gazing up at her as she returned her attention back to him in time to meet his eyes. "She knows who I am, don't you?"

"You are Tyrion Lannister. I didn't know before but I am well aware now. I apologize for not knowing you earlier."

"I knew that." Jon mumbled, now able to get the answer he had been thinking a few minutes ago but was stopped by Tyrion's question.

"You're Ned Stark's bastard, aren't you?" Amara became stiff, hands interlocked and eyes focused on Jon. She had been unable to read him, watching his lips pressed together in a thin line and saying not one word. "Did I offend you?" He inquired. "Sorry. Dwarfs don't have to be tactful. Generations of capering fools in motley have won me the right to dress badly and say any damn thing that comes into my head." For some reason, unbeknownst to them, he grinned. "You are the bastard, though."

Whether it was just to answer him or he felt the need, Jon admitted it. "Lord Eddard Stark is my father." How he said it was rather stiff though and made some sort of awkward tension fill the air.

Studying his face, Tyrion gave a nod. "Yes," He nodded again, "I can see it. You have more of the North in you than your brothers."

"Half brothers." He felt the need to correct him, but there was something about Tyrion's words that made Jon happy. It didn't make him feel good to be happy about it, but he was nonetheless.

"Let me give you some counsel, bastard." Disliking the dwarf's constant use of such word, Amara winced slightly but made no move to correct him. "Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armor yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you."

Wise words yet Jon did not request it or really wanted to hear them. In fact, why did Tyrion felt that he understood Jon's position is what he really wanted to ask. What gave him the right to try to understand? Tyrion was no bastard, his only consequence in life was being a dwarf. What did he truly know about anything of a bastard's life? "What do you know about being a bastard?"

"All dwarfs are bastards in their father's eyes." The reply was tongue numbing, but not for Jon.

"You are your mother's trueborn son of Lannister." The Stark insisted, sticking to his mental claim that Tyrion had no idea of his life.

There was a rather strange look in Tyrion's eyes, brow raised and a roll of his eyes. "Am I?" His shoulders shrugged, tone rather sardonic. "Do tell my lord father. My mother died birthing me, and he's never been sure."

Was she supposed to know this? It felt so intrusive. Amara did feel sorry for Tyrion but she knew that he wouldn't want her sympathy. "I don't even know who my mother was." Jon replied in a voice grim as Tyrion's.

"Some woman, no doubt. Most of them are." As true as it was, it was very cynical to say. The grin on the dwarf's face made it much more darker because of how rueful it was. "Remember this, boy. All dwarfs may be bastards, yet not all bastards need be dwarfs."

With nothing more to say, Tyrion had turned and ambled his way back into the Great Hall, whistling a rather unfamiliar but pleasing tune. When his hands gripped to open the door and swung it open, the light from within the room had made his shadow much more prominent and clear across the yard. For a moment, in the eyes of Jon and Amara, his shadow had made him tall. As tall as a king.

And then there was nothing.

Quietness and the dark of the empty yard of Winterfell.

Just the two of them.

"How did you know Lord Tyrion?" Jon queried, turning himself to look at her as she looked at the door of the Great Hall, still thinking about the conversation and advice Tyrion had just given him.

Her eyes slowly looked to him, "He was in the brothel this morning." The look on his face wasn't at all happy, but at least she spoke truth. "He, well…" Unsure of how to to present the fact that Tyrion mistaken her for a person who worked there. "He thought I was a sally."

"He what?" There was something interrogating in his eyes, but she knew he wasn't asking her if she had laid with him. Jon knew better than that. He was also sure Tyrion would've commented if he had too, he seemed like the type.

"It was an innocent misunderstanding." Amara defended the dwarf Lannister, "We didn't speak much and then I left and he, uh, got himself satiated with Ros as far as I know."

The rising anger calmed, doused itself by the waters of Amara's honesty and the relief that Tyrion had not laid one finger on her. "It is getting quite late and Austin needs his sleep for school." She suddenly thought, "I'm sure Lady Arya and the Young Lords, Bran and Rickon, have been sent to bed too."

His hand rose, desperately hoping to grasp a tight grip of her wrist to stop her but the courage wasn't there. "Your sisters will be disappointed I didn't stick around or speak to them, but I promise to do so tomorrow." She said, his eyes staring as she gave him a small smile. "I will see you too tomorrow, Jon."

Before she left, the words just spilled. "I've decided to go to the Wall. At least, until Father hears and gives permission."

It felt like everything had paused. There was no breeze, even the music and sounds of conversation from the Great Hall weren't there, and she had to keep still to listen if her heart was still in fact beating. Everything was quiet to her as her eyes were staring straight ahead at the large doors as if they would fill it with holes. Her back was kept facing him, her arms entirely limp at her sides, as her lips parted to release the gasp that seemed stuck.

Why? Her mind kept asking the question, starting off a whisper before becoming loud as screams. Why? Why? Why? It kept asking, hoping that an answer would immediately be said, but there was nothing but silence. Amara couldn't properly think. All she could think was the same question she asked before. Why? Why would Jon want to go to the Wall? Why would he want to go to that dreadful Castle Black where rapers and others various criminals were sent? Why did he want to take on the black? Why did he want to swear some oath and give up his rights? But most of all, why did he want to leave her? Did he not care that she would be sad and lonely?

No, she couldn't do that. She couldn't tell herself that he decided this because he didn't care. It wasn't that he didn't care how she felt, Amara knew better than that. He didn't know how much she would care, and she thank the Gods that he didn't. Now he would continue not to, for her sake.

Able to speak, in such a breathless voice, she asked the question that plagued her mind for a minute straight. "Why?" Unable was she to find herself able to turn her body to face him. Unable was she to let him see her eyes because she knew that look on her face would give her away. In such a long time, Amara found herself unable to control herself in the moment she needed that power to do it the most. It wasn't due to the wine either as she had thought it would be the one to inflict its ways on her. It was her own fault; her own natural volition.

Jon kept his eyes on her, wanting her to turn and speak to him. He braved himself to take a few steps but found that he couldn't take another. His body wouldn't let him move another inch forward, another inch towards her. He created distance between them, for her sake and for his own. Now he had to keep it, he couldn't ruin it for one time. The one time he wanted to ruin it the most. "What will I do here?" He questioned, which seemed directed more so to himself than it had to her. "I'm a bastard, not a heir. Winterfell will never be mine, so there is no real reason for me to stay. Bastards can become something in the Watch. I can do so much there."

How desperately she wanted to say: "I don't want you to go." But she knew it'd be too selfish to say. She knew it was too selfish to feel, but she couldn't help it. Her lips trembled and she sunk her teeth down into her bottom lip to fight it. Her eyes were glossing, blinding her for a moment too long, because she knew that she had done something terribly wrong. Amara had cared for him enough to know that she would miss him. Miss him she would, even though he wasn't hers to miss. If she had been sure ( a little bit sober too ), she could tell herself that it was okay to miss a friend. That's what he was, wasn't he?

No matter how many times she tried to tell herself that a day would come where Jon might possibly marry or no longer be before her eyes, she didn't want to be without sight of him so soon. He was her friend. He was her friend. He was her friend. That was the mantra that she told herself and now she felt that she was breaking her own rule that protected her as long as it was able. Now that it was all for naught, she had to seek her pride for help. It was her pride now that made her eyes not let tears fall and it was her pride now that made her unable to beg for him to stay. It was her pride now that was going to let her suffer the pain of never seeing the face of Jon Snow again. Her pride now and always will be a forced to be reckoned with.

There was one more thing to do, and it was something she wanted not to. She had to learn to smile in sadness. She owed it to him to be happy for him ( or at least pretend to ) because this what was Jon wanted. There were a great many things Jon had always wanted and now that he could have this. Amara should be happy for him, proud of him even, for getting what he wanted. So, with her eyes slit-closed, her eyelashes attempting to catch the tears if they dared to slip past her defense, she swallowed hard. With a slow turn of her head, her eyes met his as she gave him that smile that she had just learnt. "I'm happy for you, Jon. You must do what you must for only you can choose how to live your life." Her voice was empty, not a hint of anything to give away how she truly felt. "It will be unusual," She admitted, "to be in Winterfell knowing you're not here."

"You say this as if our goodbyes are to be said now." Unsure what to make by the lack of care he thought he was seeing, his eyes gazed at the ground because he had no strength to see her so neutral about them being apart for what would be deemed forever. Jon almost hoped she would tell him to not go or do what women did in stories and embrace him for they would never be able to do such an act when he told his brothers, sisters, and father goodbye. He almost hoped that she would shed a tear so that he knew that she would miss him greatly. He almost hoped for a lot of things.

"They might as well be."

His body went rigid, eyes wide as she had left him there in the dark and cold night of the yard of Winterfell. There was no delay in her steps and not a second glance. All he could do was watch her open the door of the Great Hall, the light illuminating her and making her shadow big but giving way the slenderness of her form. He hadn't noticed how pretty she looked in grey or how her eyes were so much more striking due to her hair being away from her face. All the things he should've noticed when he had first saw her was now all so salient now and yet her words had him thinking this would be the last time he saw her.

With that last look she gave him, Jon had thought he'd never forget how much her eyes looked like the open sea right then. They looked wild but not wild enough to storm. A forlorn calm that would make a sailor pity the ocean and stare out until the sun peeked from a grey overcast.

Maybe her mother had been right before.

Silence could be the most powerful thing; whether it was the quietness of a room or speech stopped before it was said. In her silence, she had kept locked away a great many things, but another thing she gave storage in this silence was her cries. Her sobs were locked away in her throat, burning for their release, but Amara wouldn't give them voice. Jon was just another person she'd have to be without; she'd been without a great many of people she liked before. What was so painful about losing another? She knew loss for loss was her greatest friend.


Author's Note: I realize I threw too much symbolism in that flower crown for Sansa, but I did that without even thinking about it at first. I just thought pink Magnolias and Calla lilies would look pretty on her but never did I realize how much they relate to her. Pink Magnolias represent youth, innocence, and joy. That can represent how she is until Joffrey arrives and Calla Lilies can mean the same, but they say a broken stem of one can mean that the person died before their time, which for me, means her innocence died before it should've. I'm not gonna kill her though, so don't worry about that. Lol.

Don't be mad at me though about this ending. I had to do it.