IMPORTANT - A/N: Dear followers of this story, I hereby apologize for the turn-out of this story and have deleted Chapters 10 to 12 as you may have noticed. I am currently rewriting them starting with this. I was very unhappy with the storyline so I decided to change it. I hope you understand and keep reading this.

Chapter 10

"Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris.
Nescio. Sed fieri sentio et excrucior."

"I hate and I love. Why do I do this, you may ask?

I do not know. But I feel it to be happening and I am tortured."

– Catullus 85

Fingers of golden light reached through the thick curtains, stretching to the edge of the bed, as dust particles danced to the drumming cacophony beneath my ear. Strong arms had encircled me, the bittersweet odor announcing their owner. His warm breath brushed against the crown of my head. A faint smile formed on my lips. Happiness flickered through me in a tingling sensation, so intense, so joyful, so above all I ever experienced, that I feared I was still in deep slumber.

I blinked repeatedly against the bright sunlight, escaping the last bit of my dream. My hand lay flat against his creamy white skin, the paled bronze contrasting it. I rolled my lower lip into my mouth, pressing it between my teeth to suppress the delight that was about to burst out. It all felt so very right. Our legs tangled beneath the sheet, being all wrapped up in him and our bodies molten into one another.

My delicate fingers trailed along his pale chest, joining the dots of the barely visible freckles, memorizing every little mark on his flesh. He was lean, a boy still, not very manly, yet he was beautiful in all conditions. A kind heart he had – which is tragically uncommon for men of the realm – and it belonged to only me. It was mine. He was mine.

Silently humming a tune of southern origin, I admired his illuminated face. Loose ringlets of fiery auburn fell onto his face, reaching his brows. His eyes were briefly closed, hiding the marveling sky´s blue behind his lids. His bowed lashes lightly touched his cheeks. He seemed at peace, a ghost of a smile tugging on the corners of his lips.

Beneath the tips of my fingers, I felt a slight rise comparing the smooth surface of his skin. My gaze lowered slowly from his face, to the distraction underneath my rubbing thumb. A silvery scar, small to even notice, stretched just under the collar bone. I wondered how he had gotten it; this little imperfection. Sliding my hands upward, I hooked them on either side where his neck and shoulder met, leveling myself up to him. Then I softly touched my lips to his scarred skin, tasting the salty dried sweat. I smiled wickedly, licking my lips as flashes of the past night travelled through my mind.

Robb´s breathing hitched audibly, foreshadowing his awake. I leaned in swiftly, placing another devouring kiss to his unevenly raising chest. My lips traced along his collar bone adoringly, until a throaty groan dragged from his mouth. With a satisfied grin, I focused my eyes on his as they fluttered open, revealing the sparkling pools of blue.

A sincere smile spread on his lips. "You´re staring," he stated in a sleepy voice, his calloused fingertips dancing down my spine, causing goose bumps to form.

I lowered my eyes, a pink hue coloring my cheeks as I bit down my lip shyly, before a gathered the courage to look up again. "I´m gazing," I explained, playing with a stray curl on his forehead, swiping it back over his hairline afterwards. And then I bent down and kissed him. It hadn´t been a kiss flaming with desire, nor had it been one that weakened my knees. It was sweet and innocent. It was what we were in spite of what had happened by candlelight hours before.

I tenderly brushed my thumbs over his cheeks; the stubble scratching the pads of my fingers. His mouth was warm, soft, surrendering against mine. He never attempted to take control, never tried to hurry me up or change the pace or intensity, even though I felt him tense beneath me. He gave me the lead.

Teasingly, I broke us apart, pecking his lips at last, before staring into his blue orbs challengingly. I slid my tongue over my pulsating bottom lip and then scraped it with my teeth. And in a mere heartbeat his self-control faltered. He crushed his lips to mine, sinking me into the mattress, steading leg between my thighs for support. The parting of legs had me shift as the previously absent pain inflicted to the spark of lust – influenced by Robb's passionate kiss, causing me to whimper into his mouth.

He tore himself away, breathing heavenly. "Are you alright?" He asked through an intake of air.

"I am," I assured him, my hand caressing his chest, "It's just–," I shifted once again, feeling the heat arise in my cheeks in shame; desperately pleading he would get the hint.

His eyes followed my movement, realization whisking over his confusion. He swallowed nervously – his Adam's apple bobbing as his eyes shied away from mine. "Oh – I – forgive me," he stuttered, removed his weight off me, hesitantly plopping to his bedside.

"It is quite alright, Robb. You didn't hurt me." An honest smile tugged on the corners of my lips, and I reached out to brush my thumb over his cheek soothingly, "Please, come."

His roughed hands scratched my skin as they snaked about my waist, pulling me closely to him. Sighing, I rested my head on his shoulder and he pulled the covers over us, sheltering us from the cold. Then I slowly allowed my eyes to glide over his exposed skin, wholly unaware, until I stilled at a now familiar point.

"Where did you get that scar?"

"What?" He muttered absently, seeming far gone. His blue orbs were set into distance, observing something I was unable to see. But a touch to his mellow skin freed him out of his blur; the fog taming his mind.

"The scar," I repeated, tracing the mark gingerly with the end of my index finger, "Where did you get it?"

"Oh... on my tenth name day, I wished to practice with a real sword for once. But father forbade me for my own safety. Stubborn as I am, I persuaded Theon into sneaking into the weapon room, to fulfill my wish. We stole two swords – too heavy for either of us to lift – and sparred rather sloppily. It was likely bound to happen."

"Theon did this to you?" I asked, wrinkling my nose in distaste, before adding "Bastard" with a taut voice.

An amused low chuckle rumbled in his chest, his shoulders dropping relaxed. "He is not as bad as you assume him to be."

"He is a Greyjoy. They aren´t very well known for their boundless loyalty."

"It is my father who raised him. He became a brother to me. You might not understand that, but perhaps one day you will."

"Perhaps one day," I echoed his words doubtfully. "But I will surely never grow fond of him or his ironborn." I maintained with pure honesty, letting the topic drop.

"I am assured of that!," he barked a strangled laugh, dipping his head to place a kiss to my hair. An impish smirk crept up my face, beaming satisfaction.

"I love you," Robb said huskily after a pregnant pause, the sound of his hoarse voice muffled by my tangled hair. The words were narrowly audible, still as he said them in an undertone, they reflected in my head multiple times.

The unspoken declaration, crumbled to dust inside my mouth, the accompanied sounds died in my throat, the thick noose about my neck tightened; leaving me utterly speechless. I had told him once, only before I gifted him my virtue, under the pale moon and the flickering candle lights. And it was easily said and wholeheartedly meant.

What´s so simple in the moonlight by the morning never is, dawned on me the sentence often told but never truly experienced in my thoughts. Now, I finally understood it´s true meaning. So instead of saying aloud those words in return, my fingers laced with his, displaying the strength of our bond.

"No one ever beats Jon," the youngest Stark girl, Arya, claimed matter-of-factly, her large doe eyes trained on the duel in the grand practice yard. Her short lean legs, clothed with mud-layered pants, were splayed out in front of her; as she slumped back against the moss covered stonewall. One might mistake her for a boy, but perhaps it was exactly her intention.

Her calmed expression twitches into a cringe every now and then, when her half-brother is attacked with another blow from the South's most desired Knight of Flowers. Ser Loras Tyrell was indeed a great threat to Jon´s victory. But he is a thorn in the eye of the most men of the seven Kingdoms. He, who is not only skilled, but dazzlingly beautiful also and with only seventeen namedays on his account, he became the main bachelor at court. If only he craved a woman´s company as much as they did his.

"You can not know that," Sansa countered shyly, a hint of pretty red hue coloring her cheeks, when she dipped her head lightly to curtain her shame. Adoration sparkled in her Tully blue eyes, as they followed the Knight´s every thrust.

"You only say that because you fancy Ser Loras," Arya snorted in distaste, obviously having caught her sister´s looks as well.

"Arya!" The elder Stark shrieked in a high-pitched tone, a mask of terror upon her face; her eyes widened and her mouth agape as she sucked in a breath. The tint of red spread over her features, causing her face to gloom with the fiery intensity of her hair color. Oh my sweet girl, if you knew whom his heart only holds, you would not be so foolish.

But I was the same as you once upon a time. The time when I figured, not even the daughter of a King could compete for the love a heart that someone had conquered. "Sansa might actually be right. Ser Loras´ tournament successes have made him a quite celebrated man in the courts of the realm. It would be no surprise if he managed to defeat your brother, although I admit, Jon is very skilled on his own."

With a relieved glance in my direction, the elder Stark girl gave me her thanks; the blush fainted to a healthy shade. I nodded in acceptance, smiling at her behavior. Arya, on the other hand, granted me with a short "If you believe so", unpleased with my decision of apparently picking Sansa´s side.

Steel clashed against steel, ringing through the yard, and tired pants joined each blow. Loras´ graceful movements reminded of a dance, whilst Jon Snow´s technique was rather brutally harsh. It was like observing a collusion of summer and winter as they fought for dominance. But in the end, the force of ice and death would send the realm to it´s knees. The Bastard´s sword circled about the upper end of his opponents´ and disarmed him with his last ounce of strength.

Loud cheering erupted from the youngest in our company, little Rickon following Arya´s lead as she quickly rose to her feet and sprinted toward her brother. I clapped in my hands loudly, before tugging on Sansa´s sleeve commandingly and guiding her to the victor.

"My congratulations Jon, not many have yet defeated the Knight of Flowers."

"Thank you, your highness." Jon stuttered, his voice fatigue.

"Please, call me Tania, Jon. We´re family now, after all."

"The princess is right, you´re one of a few, Jon Snow. You deserve my respect." The Tyrell admitted, patting the Bastard´s back.

"Ser Loras," A voice called out from distance, "Everything is set, the party is ready to leave."

"Very well then," The knight muttered absently, removing the trails of sweat with his gloved hand, "I´m afraid this is farewell."

I nervously kneaded one hand with the other, examining it with saddened eyes. Another to whom I´d bid goodbye for the last time, another I had to let walk out of my life. Nostalgia wrapped about my heart, memories gnawing on it and I wished to be a girl of ten again.

"Tania," He said softly, concern coating his voice as he touched my shoulder in support.

I swallowed heavily, gathering the courage to meet his eyes. "Loras, my old friend," my throat tightened around the words, "I will miss you greatly."

The molten gold of his eyes mirrored my misery, the corners of his lips turned downward slightly, before he closed the distance between us, enveloping me into his arms. He smelled of roses still, even so far north. I hid my face in the crook of his neck, absorbing his familiar scent.

"Take good care of Renly for me," I whispered lowly, assuring no one could eavesdrop.

I felt him nod against my shoulder. "And greet Fin and Galen from me. Keep Margaery safe."

"I will," he swore solemnly, releasing me from his grip. He glanced down at his feet, the soft ringlets falling into his forehead, pantomiming the boy he once was; my first love, my first heartbreak, my best friend.

My trembling hand reached out, occupying a small part of his face, my thumb dragging over his firm cheekbone, before I leaned in, touching my lips to his cheek. "Goodbye, Loras." I whispered meekly, my voice haunted by longing the past.

His fingers slid out of mine – I had utterly forgotten were intertwined, as he mouthed a soundless farewell.

Southern sky blue silk poured out in-between my knuckles to hold the skirt out of the way of my feet, whilst I marched, my head held high despite the blurry view through unshed tears. A sigh calmed my restless nerves that flared over, but the pace remained. I will not allow them to see my weakness. I will not let these people break through my surface. It is all I have left of my mother, my pride. I will not fail her.

With unseeing eyes, a side of my body collided with another, infecting my shoulder with a drizzle of pain. Gasping, I spun around, the wind swirling beneath my dress, facing the last person I´d wish to see.

"Greyjoy," I snarled, the taste on my tongue sour as venom, "Watch where you´re going."

"Perhaps, my lady should open her eyes herself." He snapped, the not outspoken hatred gleaming in those sea-grey eyes.

Even though he might as well be right, every letter from his filthy mouth seemed to carry a lie to me. I held his stare, blind anger boiling within my veins, my fingers curling into fists of white bone.

Sweetling, I know it´s hard… We can only make it easier for us, when we wear a smile. So would you please do me a favor and give me a bright smile? Her voice was clear as the ring of bells, it whistled through my mind, taming the building fury. Mother. It could be none other than her. And simply as that, the hunger to fight, vanished.

I took a step back, ordered my eyes to look forward instead, and took one forward, purposely knocking my shoulder with his. "Cur," I said loathingly under my breath, although he heard it for sure.

With the chin held high by inherited family pride, I continued my path into the castle, not turning back once.

The North could not drain me of all I am, it will have to be pried from me.

For my mind still rests where the roots run deep.

And family is above all, is it not?

A/N:

For my mind still rests where the roots run deep, is supposed to mean that she still thinks as Baratheon or Lannister whatsoever.

And I really do hope you understand why it is easier to tell things by night, because i speak of personal expirience.

So, I seem to be returned from the dead, guys!

I really struggled bringing that chapter up, but you deserve it, even though I don´t even know if you like it or not.

I WILL NOW UPDATE WEEKLY, IF YOU REVIEW.

Do you get the point?

Good.

Lots of love, Med.