He placed his hand on the hard wood of Ev̱gení̱s' door and rested his forehead upon it. He was winded from the run and from his anger and confusion. He scratched his nails against the wood and felt the finish curl under his fingernails.

This is not right. I should not be here. He moved his head and hand off of the door quickly, as though it had offended him. He took in another breath and knocked before he could convince himself to leave.

For a second, he thought to run and hide before her handmaiden answered the door. They will answer the door and tell her father that I had been here. He backed away, he did not know what he should do.

Slowly, the door opened just a crack. Nothing but darkness poured out. Darkness, and a tiny black iris.

"Jon Snow?" She said as she swung open the door with concern on her face.

He blinked and let out a breath of air in relief. "Ev̱gení̱s." Was all he said. No sooner had he let the air out, did he take it back in, and held it.

"You look like you've seen a ghost!" She whispered loudly, her face still worried. She had more colour in her cheeks now then she did in the wood, Jon noticed.

"May I speak with you?" He said in haste, careful to keep his voice down.

She stared for a moment, searching his eyes. When suddenly, she grabbed his forearm and looked to the left and right of the hallway. She pulled him in and Jon could see that he was wrong about her room, it was not dark, but dimly lit by one candle in the farthest corner of her chamber.

When she closed the door she looked to the ground, shyly. "I sleep with the light on sometimes."

Jon looked back at the candle, and scrunched his face. He did not even think to judge her for the light. "Were you asleep? Did I wake you? I should never have come, I should leave you to your rest."

She watched him walk back towards the door in a fit of confusion. "I had only just lay down my head and-" She stopped in mid sentence and shook her head, "Wait, anything that would make you come here, on the very evening that my father threatened to kill you, must be important. I pray you speak your mind."

Jon turned around, she was wearing her night clothes, a lush red silk that seemed to glow against her olive skin. She crossed her arms and played with a ring set upon her right hand, ineffectively trying to hide her large breasts.

It was stupid to have come here. What should I say to her? That I am to be a man of the Night's Watch, and she is a distraction? It sounds ridiculous in my head, arrogant and foolish. It will sound even worse if I say it aloud.

"You're not wearing green." Was all he could think to say.

"No." She smiled, looking down quickly at her garb, "I was permitted to wear other colours in my own leisure time. Red is my favourite..." She finished awkwardly, trailing off into silence. The candle in the corner of the room flickered, and he could see the light reflect against her glossy black eyes. She looked towards it, but he continued to stare. Her hair hung long, past the small of her back, wavy, loose and brushed out. He remembered how curly it could be when she left with Lady Stark, and how smooth and shiny it was the night they met.

"I'm not coming to supper. I'm sorry if that's why you came." She spoke plainly, "I just wanted a hot bath and a soft bed."

The idea set his mind a blaze, her dress falling to her ankles, and her naked body stepping into a steaming tub of water...

" Ev̱gení̱s." He said urgently stepping forward. "I wanted to talk to you about the cave."

"My father needs to cool his wits. He will be alright on the morrow." She placed her hand on his bicep and rubbed it.

"No, it's not that."

"If you are still searching for a secret, you are chasing nothing-"

"I'm not, I didn't come here to probe you further." He interrupted.

Then why did you come? Her eyes asked him, tilting her head and squinting.

He stepped forward again and became closer to her than he had ever been before. She had faint freckles high on her cheeks that he had not noticed before. She gaped at him, but did not move.

He moved forward again, as though he was not in control. Moving closer to her face, he began to close his eyes. This was what he wanted all along. It seemed that all was well, and he did his best to gauge her response. Was that what all men did? Or did they just act? She is not pulling away...

He could feel her breath against his own mouth, soft and warm. Her scent was comely, sweet with honeysuckle.

Suddenly, she tensed her shoulders, and pulled her lips away. So close. Did I do something wrong?

"No." She whispered, winded. She seemed to be fighting the urge, which might have been terrible, had Jon not recognized that if she was fighting, she wanted it too. "You're going to be a man of the Night's Watch." She shook her head, and placed her hands on his chest feebly.

He placed his hands on her upper arms lightly, and spoke as low and gently as he could. "I thought it was what I wanted, but perhaps, I belong-"

"No." She repeated, more urgently. She broke away from him. I've done something wrong, he now knew. His eyebrows knit together tightly, and he wanted to ask why.

She pushed her hair away from her face, and wrapped her fingers around her silky garb. "This cannot be. You should be a ranger for the Night's Watch as you wanted, and I... Will marry a Lord somewhere, someday. This will go nowhere, and you would not be happy."

She lies to spare my feelings. She pretends that I would be happier without her. That I would be better off. She doesn't want me, and she never did. He thought, sure that he had misread her all along. I am such a fool, I should not have come. She does not want to be with me. What was I thinking!? What was my plan!? To be with her, destroy her honour and mine? It would not end in happiness. How could it? She could never be with a bastard. I am too far beneath her.

He took a step back, wounded. It took all he had not to grasp at his chest. He bit his bottom lip quickly and stared at the ground. "I'm sorry if I offended you. This was a stupid idea, and I should have known better." He turned his heel quickly and moved towards her door, wrapping his hands around the dull metal handle.

She took a step forward, breathing in as though she wanted to speak, though nothing came out, and when Jon looked towards her one last time, she looked to her left into nothingness, refusing to meet his gaze.

He took in one final breath and opened the door, letting it close behind him.

When he got to his chambers, he slammed his door with ferocity, and threw himself on his bed, staring straight ahead. What a fool I am. No, not a fool, a bastard, fool.

He wanted to fall asleep, to make the night disappear, and make it feel like more of a nightmare than a living, breathing, evening gone wrong. His heart was beating fast, too fast to allow for sleep, and though he did not draw the covers, he was still too warm in his own skin.

The day had started with such promise. He smiled when he saw her approaching, and his head spun when he thought she wanted to walk with him in the woods. It was a fateful day, one that Jon could have never seen coming. Does a man ever really know when a day will take a turn for better or worse? Every day always seems like a normal one at the start.

Even now, he remembered her hair heavy with water, and her freckles just under her eyes. Her smell and her warmth, ached within his head, and he wanted to swat them away like so many mosquitoes.

He rubbed his face with his hands violently, then continued to stare at the deep dark red cloth above his canopy bed. It was not the same colour as Ev̱gení̱s' garb, but it reminded him of her just the same.

Perhaps it was time to hate her. That was how Jon liked to numb the pain of things he could not have. If I could hate her now, then I suppose I did not like her much to begin with? Can you hate a person until you do not want them anymore, the same way you can hate a thing? Jon thought of how he once wanted Lady Stark to love him. To hug him in the night when he was afraid, or rock him back and forth when he was hurt. He learned to dislike her, and it made it easier. Was this the same?

He could not conceal his lack of surprise. Deep inside, he had known this had been a possibility. Tyrion Lannister had even seen it, and warned him. He ignored his instincts, and it came back to bite him worse than any Northern wind.

Knock

Knock

Jon lifted his head and threw it back down onto his bed roughly, ignoring the disturbance. For a moment, the thought he would run to his candles, blow them all out and jump back into bed. Who ever it was might open the door, but he did not want to talk.

Knock

Knock

He took in a deep breath of annoyance. Its Robb, I know it is, Robb always knocks twice.

Knock

Knock

Knock

The knocks seemed more urgent, but that only irritated him further. "Go away Robb! I'm... Asleep." He lied with distain.

He could hear the sound of the door opening, and light footsteps sliding through. Jon winced and ground his teeth. I'll kill him.

He rose from his back and raised his voice, "I thought I told you-" only to let it die as he saw her tiny red body enter the room. He froze, resting on his hands, reclined.

Jon stared as she nervously fidgeted with her ring again. Is she really here? Did I fall asleep after all?

He thrusted himself up off of his bed, and stood some feet before her. She did not meet his eyes, while she bit the skin of her bottom lip. "I thought you were Robb." Jon closed his eyes and rolled them beneath closed lids, repelled by his own comment.

"I know what you must be thinking," She began, removing her ring and placing it back on her finger repeatedly. I don't even know what I'm thinking. "Its not what it seems."

Jon winced bemusedly. What's not?

She seemed to be trapped in her thoughts, not bothering to aid him in his confusion. "The night of the feast," She began, and he understood what she was doing. She swallowed, and Jon knew she was uncomfortable beyond belief. "I couldn't go back in. There wasn't any point to it. 'Why should I?' I asked myself. Only to suffer another humiliation?"

What she was getting at, Jon could not tell. He knew she was struggling, and he knew she was going to tell him her secret, but he could not guess what she would say, despite his best efforts.

"Humiliation?" Was all he could say as he shook his head slowly.

She licked her lips and continued not to meet his gaze. He searched her face, as though he could find something there.

"There were so many whispers, so many jeers, I thought for a second that they might be directed at me, and I let my mind take me over. Even now, I'm not unsure that he knows..."

"Who knows what?" Jon pressed, it was now or never. What could they possibly have to jeer at?

"Theon." She blurted out, her voice wavering. She might cry. Her eyes were glossier than before, though he could not see any drops streaming down her cheek.

"I knew it had to do with him somehow." Jon began to raise his voice, and turn his head, the way his father used to do when he was angry. "Did he hurt you?" He asked urgently.

She closed her eyes and looked to the ground, holding her stomach. There were still no tears, but there was a struggle to keep them in. "No." She said, an odd smile creeping across her face, as though it were a joke.

Jon leaned forward, "He did. I know he did. You're lying to protect him. Or to protect me. Don't worry about that Ev̱gení̱s, I can't get in any more trouble than I'm in right now. If I beat the living breath out of Theon, I don't lose anything. Tomorrow, I'll still be the bastard son of Eddard Stark." He seethed.

She placed her hand onto the stone wall, as though the movement would stop her from vomiting. "If you think that I sent you from my chamber because you were a bastard, you are more a fool than Theon. You're wrong, you're just so wrong."

Jon stood up very straight, weary of her confession, and ashamed of what he said.

"You're near tears, and you look like you're in pain. Someone hurt you-"

"No!" She yelled, her voice shaking, though he could see that she longed to sound authoritative. She shook her head.

"Well than what?!"

She still did not look at him as she wiped the wetness from her eyes with a quivering hand. Jon could see the black of her charcoal smeared into her finger tips and nails. "I worked my whole life to be a proper lady." She began, constantly removing the water from her lashes. "I know everything!" She said bitterly, turning to face him for the first time since she arrived. "I can be strong, I know I can, but if I have to look over my shoulder for all eternity, wondering what they are whispering about... I feel as though everyone knows!" She ended loudly, throwing her hands in the air. "Everyone but you." She laughed shortly and reluctantly.

Jon looked at her with sympathy in his heart for her unknown trouble, he wanted to run towards her, hold her, console her. Her eyes remained on him, looking not at him, but through him. As though she could see what he was thinking, or if he was judging her.

She took in a long drawn out breath, her chest heaving deeply. "I've never said it to anyone before."

Jon continued to stare at her with confusion building behind his black eyes. What could she possibly have to hide? What in the seven hells could trouble her so deeply?

"Renly was the last of many suitors." She averted her eyes once more, losing her courage with every new word she spoke. Jon could see how sad she looked, her high sharp cheekbones were so defined as the shadows traveled over them. Though sorrowful, she still looked so striking. "I was almost married so many times." She shook her head. "I passed every single test, everything they asked of me could be theres. Everything that was in my power..."

Her lip trembled, and she threw her hands onto her face, weeping openly. Jon could not blink before he was at her side. He grabbed her hands gently, they were cold, but soft, and he pulled them from her face. The memory of how they met fluttered into his head. 'I do not think I belong,' she said. He thought she was a pretty idiot in that moment. That her lack of belonging was rooted in some trivial reason. What else could there be? Upon first glance, she looked perfect. As he held his grip on her wrists, and watched the tears trickle down her face, he knew that he was wrong. There was something the matter, and it was not trivial.

"Ev̱gení̱s." He consoled her, still ever confused, but determined to make her end the tears. "It's fine. Renly is not the only noble in Westeros. You will find someone to marry you." I would. Others might have found ugliness in her red face, he knew, but not him. "You're still young, and beautiful." He was proud that he managed to say it. Now she knows I think she's beautiful. "Any man would be lucky-"

"Lucky?!" She interrupted, now meeting his gaze with a look of angry bewilderment. "If a man wishes to marry me, he had best not be in need of any heirs!" She finished, trying to pull her hands away, but he held his grip firmly.

Jon winced, and shook his head, "I don't understand."

"Must I spat it out!?" She yelled at him now, tears ceased. He felt a tightness in his throat. He wanted to be embarrassed, but he could not break free of his perplexity. Am I missing something? Did she say it already?

Watching him, her shoulders eventually slumped. She looked so at home in her defeat, that Jon imagined that she had known disappointment many times before. She slowly wriggled free of his hands, and he let her go without a struggle. She lowered her head, shamefaced. "I don't bleed... I never have, and I never will." She said, with such calm that he might have forgotten her red, swollen eyes.

He blinked hard, and studied her for a moment, thinking on what she had said. Suddenly, Jon understood what she meant, and why she wanted to keep this secret. He leaned in close, staring at her from the top of his eyes. "There's still time." He said with such certainty in his voice. Does she? Jon had no idea when it was the right time for moon blood to appear.

"I've had three and twenty names days." She said urgently. "My time is up. I've been poked and prodded once a week since I was eighteen, and my sisters have already had theirs... Once the truth gets out that I cannot bare children, I will be ruined. No one will have me." He beheld her face and body. Jon had always imagined a barren woman to look weak and sickly, but Ev̱gení̱s had none of those traits. Voluptuously full of breast and hip, she seemed bountiful. Fruitful. Perhaps those things are not what determines a woman's power to breed.

"Only a man without honour would not have you for that purpose." He said assuredly.

"Is that so? Is it dishonourable to want and need sons and daughters?"

"No." Jon answered quickly, without thinking. He thought for a moment longer, grasping her upper arms, and rubbing them once over. He thought hard on his response. "But you could be as loving at any wife. Maybe more." He watched as her chest stopped heaving. She was holding her breath.

The tips of their shoes were past one another, and their legs were touching. "I meant what I said before, you are young and beautiful."

Jon did not want to think this time. He didn't feel like giving her a chance to run or turn him away. Quickly, he pushed his lips forcefully onto hers. He moved with haste, wincing, and feeling every inch of her mouth. When he felt her moving too, he grew faster still, raising his hands from her arms to the back of her head, running them through her hair. He could feel the hairs standing on the back of her neck, so he opened his eyes to watch, and it only inflamed his passion more. She reached for his chest and dug her nails into the boiled leather of his doublet. He closed his eyes reluctantly, as though closing them would make the moment disappear. It didn't however, it made it sweeter, without his sight he could better feel his urges. Suddenly, he wanted to stop. He wanted to see her face, and take in how she was enjoying it. He pulled away, and held his hands firm on the sides of her neck.

She breathed heavily, and her breasts rose and fell with every inhale. He wanted to run his hands along her body, and feel every curve she had. He could still feel her soft lips on his, as the cold air hit the little moisture she had left behind. She placed her hands on his wrists and stood on her highest toes and smashed her lips back onto his. She wants it as much as me... Jon liked the way she had taken what she pleased.

He had a sudden thought, and massaged his way through her mouth to meet her tongue. It was soft and wet, and warm, and he wanted more. While they remained entangled, he moved her against the heavy wooden door, allowing himself to better lean down to reach her. He moved his hands to either side of her, his nails digging into the door. He moved to the side of her face, and slowly to her jaw and neck. She let out a faint moan and the noise made him wild with desire. He took in a hard deep breath through his nose and sucked at her neck. She whimpered, which made him savage enough to lick and bite at her flesh.

"Jon, wait." She said suddenly. He hated the word, and wanted to continue.

"Yes." He lifted his face from her neck reluctantly and stared into her eyes as his chest heaved. "Is something wrong?" He asked, brushing her jaw with his knuckles.

"No, nothing is wrong." She spoke softly as a lullaby. He moved closer to her lips once more, tired of waiting, he couldn't get enough. She placed her fingertips to his mouth, and smiled baring her teeth. Jon liked to see her smile at something he did. "I want you to keep going."

"So do I-" He moved forward again, if not for her finger tips, they would be speaking into each others mouths. She did not let him pass.

"We can't. Not tonight." She pleaded. "My handmaidens will check my chamber soon. My father will have asked them to."

Jon let out a breath of air and winced, leaning his forehead onto hers. "I don't want you to go."

"I don't want to go either. It's taking everything I have to leave."

He barely listened, lifting his forehead and staring at her from the top of his eyes, forlorn. "When can I see you again?"

"Tomorrow." She said quickly. His heart rose knowing that he would see her again,but it sank, knowing that it would take until tomorrow. It seemed much too far away.

"Tomorrow afternoon, I will be with Sansa and the Queen. We should wait for nightfall. There will be another feast in the King's honour. We could slip away, and no one would know."

Jon smiled, enjoying how quick she was. "I know where I can take you."

"Good." She did not bother to ask where, but he did not mind. "Tomorrow then." She said with her eyes closed, as unhappy to let him go as he was.

She went on her toes once more and kissed his lips sweetly. Jon didn't move as much as he could have. He wanted to feel how sweet she was. When she pulled away, he leaned forward to keep it going as long as he could. Once she broke away, she opened the door and Jon grabbed her hand once more. So soft...

"Can you go back alone? Wait... "How did you find my chambers?" Not that I care, or even mind... He smiled.

"Robb helped me find it." His smile changed into a straight line immediately. "Good night." She breathed from her tiny lips, her last words for the evening. He watched as she hurried away, behind a stone wall and out of sight.

"Good night." He spoke to no one, softly, and when he closed the door he knew that he needed to speak with Robb on the morn.

Hi all!

This is a long one! I hope you enjoyed! I've been slaving away like crazy to update. The next chapter might take a bit longer, but the good thing to know is that I know where it's heading. No worries.

Review as always, and let me know whats up.

Thanks for reading, you guys are so awesome!

-Prosati