Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones. Any similarities in dialogue or storyline originated with the show or book.

Doubt

Matthias

Matthias pursed his lips pensively as he stared out of the window overlooking the far side of the docks. He leaned against the wall, his arm resting along the wall over his head in a casual pose, but his clenched fists told of the anguish turning in his gut. With no pressing duties demanding his attention and the general spirit of lethargy that infected the palace inhabitants after the festivities, there was nothing to keep his mind from circling inevitably back to Rowynn.

His presence had, of course, been required at the wedding, and protocol and wisdom both dictated that he make a show of his support. However, he had been overlong in his preparations, agonizing over the particular set of his golden locks, driving his serving man to vexation as he changed his mind again and again over the choice of cufflinks, socks, or the color of shirt until he was almost unfashionably late. Had it been subconsciously intentional, this self-sabotage? He was not often a vain man. He had arrived just late enough to avoid offering an insult to the bride, while guaranteeing that the only seats available were in the very far distant corners of the Royal Sept. He had well known that his queen's lovely lilac eyes would wonder over the assemblage as the priest read through the lines leading up to her vow, searching for his own face. He knew just as certainly that he could not afford to meet her gaze as she stood resplendent in her wedding raiment, as he had imagined her a hundred times in his fantasies in which she was being pledged to himself. He knew beyond a doubt that if he had met her searching gaze, he would not have been able to maintain his silence as she bonded herself to this cold stranger. Thus, he sat with his jaw clenched tight and counted the seconds until the ceremony was complete.

He was wrenched from his wretched ruminations by the blustering entrance of Prince Rybek. He turned from the sluggishly churning snow beyond the window to the face of the roiling storm that was the barely suppressed fury written across the younger man's face. Matthias swallowed the patient sigh that welled in his chest at the anticipation of the earful he was about to receive about the wedding that they had just endured. He raised an eyebrow inquisitively as he nodded a greeting to his longtime friend.

"She let that traitorous bastard ride Bhaen into battle," Rybek spat bitterly, his fists clenched at his sides as he paced the length of the room.

Matthias arched an eyebrow cynically. "I thought that you had decided to put aside your jealousy."

"I did!" Rybek insisted hotly. He shook his head in disbelief, the motion tossing his hair into a veil over his eyes as he peered beseechingly up at Matthias. "I just—I cannot understand what overcame Rowynn in order for her to allow him to ride her father's dragon. As if that bastard could ever be the equal of King Cyprian!"

"Some would say it was love," Matthias replied lightly, trying to mask the pain that clenched his heart.

Rybek froze in his tracks, his hands falling slack at his sides. "They can't be. It's too soon."

"They are married," Matthias reminded him archly.

Rybek scoffed. "So? How many people are married with no love between them to speak of? You would know best of all. Your parents loathed each other."

"Rowynn and Jon are not my parents." Matthias replied coolly. "I'm afraid that you'll just have to come to terms with the fact that they've become quite fond of one another." The notion that it was true pained him beyond belief, but he would never allow Rybek to perceive that.

"One can always hope," Rybek answered as a sly smirk slid up the corners of his lips.

Matthias narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "I do not like the look of that grin. What foul schemes are you concocting in that twisted head?"

"Nothing," Rybek replied, his smile just failing to be innocuous. "Something came to mind, that's all. It's nothing to worry yourself about, Matthias."

Matthias stepped aggressively towards Rybek and narrowed his eyes. "Tell me what you're up to. Now."

"Don't worry, Matthias," said Rybek with a wink. "You'll enjoy the outcome just as much as I will."

"Somehow, I doubt that," Matthias frowned. He stepped towards his friend again, but Rybek stepped back at the same time, keeping a safe distance.

"No need for violence," Rybek quickly held up his hands. Then with a nasty grin, "There will be enough of that later."

Matthias lips pressed in a thin line as he pointed at Rybek. "If you harm a single hair on Jon Snow's head, Rowynn will never forgive you."

"She won't need to forgive me," Rybek responded. "She'll only need to accept that I'm the next suitable marriage prospect."

"What makes you so sure that your plot will work? You're not very well acquainted with Jon's capabilities and strengths," Matthias challenged.

"I'm a better swordsman than he will ever be," Rybek retorted, tilting his chin up with pride.

"You had better hope that you are correct," Matthias cautioned as a dark look crossed over his face. "Because once you challenge Jon, Rowynn will not be likely to save you."

"Why would I need saving?" Rybek quipped as he quirked an eyebrow.

Matthias stayed quiet for a long while, keeping his gaze locked with Rybek's. He could not let Rybek get himself killed, and he could not let Jon Snow die. Rowynn would never forgive him if she knew he had been aware of the situation.

"Gods have mercy on your soul, Rybek," Matthias said as he stared down at his friend. "I fear that you will certainly need it."

Jon

Death. His wife had dreamt of death. Whose death? Jon did not know. Rowynn had been reluctant to tell him any details of the dream, but it bothered her enough to keep her awake the rest of the night. Jon decided to stay up with her as long as he could, but he fell asleep with her in his arms a short while later. She was already awake when he woke. He wondered whether she had slept at all.

"We need to reclaim the North," were Rowynn's first words as Jon sat up beside her.

Jon's eyes narrowed. "So soon? We just defeated the white walkers."

"We need to win the North, and then the South or our family will never be safe," insisted Rowynn, with more confidence than she felt.

"Our family?" Jon queried, uncertain of her meaning.

"Our families; my brother, cousins, and uncles, and your siblings," Rowynn answered, a little too quickly.

Jon felt a slight disappointment at her clarification. He was aware it was impossible, but a part of him had hoped that somehow she already knew if she was with child. He was eager to start a family with Rowynn. She was his soul-mate. That much he was sure of.

"We need to protect them, and the only way to do that is to destroy our enemies," Rowynn continued gravely.

"You've been so reticent about going to war. What changed?" Jon asked, tilting his head slightly as he studied her pale face.

"I realized waiting will not change our fate. In fact, it diminishes our control over it," Rowynn answered as she rose from the bed. "After Stannis attacks the Boltons, we'll attack the survivors with all our force."

"With the dragons?" Jon queried as he sat up and his eyes followed Rowynn as she crossed the room to her robe. She pulled it over her bare body and tied the thick string around her waist. Jon stood up and donned his pants. He turned to face her with trepidation. Not only did he fear for Rowynn's life, but for her dragons as well. Those animals were like her children and she loved them as such.

"Yes." Rowynn responded, a steely look in her eyes. She thrust her chin out defiantly. "We'll burn them all."

Jon clenched his jaw as his eyes searched the face of his lovely new wife. He stepped towards her slowly and took her face tenderly in his hands.

"I will support you in all that you do," Jon said as he placed a short, soft kiss on her lips. When he pulled away from the embrace, Rowynn was smiling faintly.

"Thank you, Jon," she said.

Sansa

Sansa couldn't quiet her mind enough to coax herself back to sleep. She attempted to find comfort in the bed by tossing and turning, but she could not find a relaxed position. The young Stark growled under her breath before sitting up and looking around the room. The sun was already rising, but, as always during the sunrise here in the far north, there was a tint of blue clinging to everything. Arya was still asleep beside her, having worn herself out with her training.

Sansa yawned quietly as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes before pushing herself up onto her feet. Her dress for the day was already hanging from the wardrobe, so Sansa dressed quickly and carefully tiptoed through the room. She made her way out into the hallway. There was a repetitive clanking sound as two guards made their way past her. Sansa decided it would be best to visit Rowynn. The queen always knew what to say when the Stark girl was feeling depressed.

Her night had been filled with nightmares of Robb and her mother's death. Her mind tended to fill in the gaps between what she had heard happened and what had actually happened, but it was devastating all the same. The blood, the screams, the death, all flowed from her head to her heart till it was full to bursting with deep, abiding sorrow. She woke feeling as if the rest of her family could never be safe, even if they were now all safe and sound tucked away in the lands beyond the Wall.

Sansa didn't like to talk much about what had happened to her mother and older brother, but Rowynn, besides being an incredible leader for her people, was also kind and empathetic. She had wisdom far beyond her years, and the young Stark felt comfortable talking with her about almost anything. If Jon happened to be there, then it would be harder to open up about her fears in his presence. Sansa would feel more comfortable speaking to Rowynn alone because she knew the young queen would never betray her trust. Although she knew that Jon would also never betray her trust, she had never been close to him and there was a lingering tension born of guilt over the way that she had treated him at Winterfell. There was a part of her that felt ashamed because she was not strong enough to move on from her brother and mother's death. Her siblings had probably worked their way through the same problem months ago.

"Sansa."

She heard her name a moment too late. She let out something between a squeak and a grunt as she ran into something tall and solid. When she stepped back, she looked up to see Elyjah Nyrs and Fayne Winter. Based on the…density… of the body that she had hit, she assumed that Elyjah was the one whom she had run into. Sansa bowed her head demurely.

"My apologies, Ser Elyjah," Sansa said. "I did not see you."

"It's Lord Eliyjah now," Fayne Winter retorted. "He's been legitimized."

"My apologies," Sansa said again, dropping into a light curtsy. "I had forgotten that you have finally been legitimized."

"It is quite alright." Elyjah said with a charming smile. "Even I forget about it sometimes."

"Rowynn would not be happy to hear you say that," Fayne said, "since she worked so hard and so long to get you legitimized."

Sansa arched an eyebrow at her condescending tone, but decided to brush it off immediately. This was Rowynn's cousin who was about to be legitimized. She had no reason to hold a grudge against her cousin.

"Calm down, Fayne," Elyjah said, patting his cousin on the head a couple times. This only seemed to make her angrier.

"Keep your hands off me, Elyjah," Fayne snapped with such ferocity that Sansa took a cautious step back from her.

"Where were you headed so early, Lady Sansa?" Elyjah asked, deliberately ignoring Fayne's tone of voice.

"I was going to see Queen Rowynn." Sansa answered politely.

"Why is that?" Fayne asked impudently.

"There is something that I wish to speak with her about," Sansa replied evenly.

Fayne smirked wryly and stepped uncomfortably close to the younger girl. "What did you wish to speak with her about?"

"A private matter," Sansa answered shortly and narrowed her eyes slightly.

"It won't be 'a private matter' once you speak with Rowynn," Fayne said.

"I trust Queen Rowynn," Sansa retorted.

"I wouldn't if I were you." Fayne smirked.

"Don't mind her," Elyjah advised Sansa as he elbowed Fayne lightly. "She's just jealous."

"Jealous of what?" Sansa asked, wishing that she hadn't even as the words left her mouth. It was a stupid question, as was evidenced by the look that passed between the other two.

"She's yet to be legitimized," Elyjah explained, a bit over patiently. "She blames Rowynn."

"Rightfully so," Fayne said. "Our dearest queen is stalling my legitimization."

"That is not true" Elyjah argued. "She is trying her hardest to legitimize all of us."

"She's not trying hard enough!" Fayne retorted, her voice very nearly a shout.

"Well, I am sorry about your legitimization," Sansa said sincerely, her voice soft. "Maybe I can speak with Rowynn on your behalf."

"You can try, but it won't to work," Fayne scoffed. "There's only one thing that will work and it isn't talking."

Sansa felt a sharp pang of fear for Rowynn's well-being as Fayne spoke. Everything she said sounded like a threat.

"Ignore her," Elyjah said, shaking his head with a gentle smile on his lips.

"It was a pleasure speaking with you both, but I really must be going if I am to catch Queen Rowynn before she starts her day," Sansa said as courteously as she could. "I will speak to you both very soon, I hope."

"Of course, Lady Sansa," Fayne smirked as she curtsied ironically. "We must speak again soon."

"Allow me to escort you to Queen Rowynn's room," Elyjah offered, looking fondly down at Sansa.

Sansa nodded gratefully and quickly slipped her arm through his, eager to be away from the company of Fayne Winter. She said one last polite farewell and strode briskly away, striving to keep pace with Elyjah's long strides.

"Fayne can be intense at times, but she's a good person." Elyjah explained as they made their way through the halls.

"I did not know that she was so impatient to be legitimized," Sansa said.

"Every bastard is," Elyjah shrugged. "Here in the True North, bastards are better accepted than they are in the south, but it is still hard for us. Rowynn was the first of our line to fight for our legitimization. Her father and brother felt that it was….. unnecessary... when they reigned."

Sansa pursed her lips as she thought about how she used to treat her bastard half brother. She felt the deep burn of shame for as she remembered her pettiness and persecution of her brother. Sansa had already sincerely apologized for her past behavior, but there was still some lingering guilt when she dwelled on it for overlong.

"Well, I am sorry that it took so long for you to be legitimized," Sansa said with sincerity.

"As am I," replied Elyjah lightly.

They reached Rowynn's room a short while later. Sansa bade a polite farewell to Elyjah before asking one of the guards stationed outside the door to announce her presence. A moment after he disappeared into the room, he reappeared. He nodded and opened the door for her, allowing her to enter.

"Sansa," Rowynn smiled as she stepped towards her, arms wide open in welcome. Sansa smiled warmly when she met Rowynn's gaze.

"Your Grace," Sansa curtseyed. She heard a man clear his throat and turned to see Jon sitting at the table behind them. "King Jon, it's good to see you."

"And you, sister." Jon replied as he stood up to make his way over toward them.

"Why did you come?" Rowynn inquired gently.

"Because I needed to speak with you," Sansa said. She hesitated to continue, but mustered up the courage rather quickly. "I had a nightmare last night."

"I'll leave you two alone" Jon said, before kissing Rowynn on the cheek and walking out of the room. Sansa was silently grateful.

"What was the nightmare about?" Rowynn queried.

"My brother, Robb, and my mother, Catelynn," Sansa said. "Their deaths."

"I was not aware that you knew the details of that awful night," Rowynn said as she led Sansa to the chairs at the table at which Jon had been seated

"I know enough," said Sansa. "I know of how they died."

"I am truly sorry for your loss, Sansa," Rowynn told her. "No one should have to endure what your family has had to endure."

"I dream about it night after night, from sunset to sunrise," Sansa admitted quietly. "It fills my head with horrors every night and the lingering anger, sadness, and fear never leave me."

"Oh, Sansa," Rowynn murmured sympathetically. "Have you tried milk of the poppy? It might help with the dreams."

"It does not work for me anymore," Sansa replied. "It only makes me tired."

"I have troubling dreams as well," Rowynn said.

"What about, if I may ask?" Sansa asked, intrigued.

"They are much the same as yours, Sansa. Dark shadows come to me at night and I do not know how to be rid of them," Rowynn explained with a sorrowful expression.

"Do you dream of death also?" Sansa asked.

"Sometimes," Rowynn shrugged. "Other times it is less dire."

"I do not have the dream every night, but often enough to make me fear sleep," Sansa explained.

"You still miss them, don't you?" Rowynn asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes," Sansa whispered.

"That might be part of the reason you dream of their deaths," said Rowynn. "You mourn them still."

"Will it ever stop?"

"Of course it will," Rowynn answered with a nod of her head. "All you need is time."

"Why don't yours stop?" Sansa queried.

"Mine are about different things," Rowynn replied. "They're about life and death, the past and future, my friends and enemies."

"You dream about all of that?"

"Yes," Rowynn nodded. "I have had dreams of all types ever since I can remember."

A comfortable silence fell between the two girls.

"Thank you for speaking with me about this," Sansa said as held Rowynn's gaze.

"It was my pleasure, Sansa," Rowynn responded with a nod of her head. "If you ever need to speak with someone about something important, do not be afraid to come to me."

"Thank you my Queen," Sansa said as she rose from her seat. "I will remember that."

"Good." Rowynn returned. She followed Sansa across the room towards the door.

"There's one other thing that I feel that I must say," Sansa said as they reached the door.

"What is it?"

"I was talking to Fayne earlier and something that she said made me worry about your well-being," Sansa explained hesitantly.

"What did she say?" Rowynn asked, her lilac eyes narrow.

"She said that there was only one thing that would get her legitimized and it was not going to be talking," Sansa told her.

"Oh," Rowynn sighed. "Well, there's nothing to fear, Sansa. Fayne is my cousin and I'm working to get both her and her twin sister legitimized. She has no reason to harm me."

Sansa pressed her lips into a thin line. "If you are sure…"

"I am," Rowynn said firmly, though not unkindly. "Fayne may be intimidating, but she is not capable of harming her family."

"I understand," Sansa relented. "Thank you again for listening to me."

Rowynn nodded as she held open the door for her sister by law. "It was my pleasure, Sansa. Let's chat again soon."

"I would like that. Thank you. I will see you later," Sansa said, smiling politely.

"You will." Rowynn nodded.

Sansa left the queen's room feeling better than she had when she arrived, which was all she could have asked for.

Rowynn

There were only men sitting at the table with Rowynn at the head in the small council room. Other than Rowynn, there had never been any female military leaders in her kingdom. The young queen wished for more female advisors, but she'd had difficulty finding women who had the appropriate experience. Rowynn took a deep breath, inhaling the stale musky air lingering about the confined room. She yearned to be able to peer through a window and see the fresh-fallen snow outside, but the windowless room took that opportunity from her. She peered around the table, smiling at each of the commanders and family members who made up her small council. She had called this meeting because they needed to start planning their strategy for their upcoming attack on Winterfell, but she was worried about their reaction to the news another war so soon after their last battle.

"Are you ready?" Jon asked, squeezing her hand tenderly. Rowynn looked over at him, feeling a surge of confidence from his presence beside her. She stood at the head of the table and loudly rang her fork against her cup. Slowly, the hum of conversation died down and Rowynn cleared her throat.

"I called you all here today to announce that we will be marching to reclaim Winterfell as soon as Stannis begins his attack. I will not show any mercy to these people. I plan to ride in on the dragons first and burn our enemies until they are no more. Then our men will ride in on foot and take out the men stationed inside Winterfell. We should only need six thousand men for this and it is very likely that less than half will actually see battle. We shall take Winterfell before anyone knows we are coming," Rowynn explained. She felt the fluttering of nerves rising in her chest, but she did her best to ignore them. There were bigger things to worry about. "If there is anybody who objects to this plan, speak now or hold your tongue."

"Stannis might attack any day now. Why rush? We should take our time planning this attack," her uncle, Prince Byron Martell, spoke.

"And we will," Rowynn said. "That's why we're here."

"Using the dragons makes using our men pointless," asserted her cousin, Prince Riordyn Martell. His father had asked if he could join the war council in order to see what it meant to be a commander. Rowynn had agreed heartily, knowing she would need him sooner rather than later.

"Our men will come in afterwards and take care of any survivors and those stationed inside Winterfell," Rowynn said.

"Do you plan to use all three dragons?" Her Lord Commander of the Wardens asked. Jerrik Ganst was one of her most trusted commanders. She wanted his support if she was going to make her move against the Boltons.

"Yes," Rowynn said. "They will ensure that our enemy burns."

"We should give them a chance to surrender," Prince Riordyn said.

"If we do, they will have time to prepare for the attack. They would lock themselves away within the walls of Winterfell because they know we will not burn down the Stark home," Rowynn instructed sternly.

"If they choose not to surrender, we could still draw them out under false pretenses and have them burned," Caen Maening, the Lord Commander of the Queensguard, suggested. He was another one of her trusted commanders. His opinion was one of the few that had the power to sway her decision.

"Don't mention the dragons in the letter, or they will certainly lock themselves away in Winterfell. Only tell them that we would fight them on the battlefield and certainly win. Sound arrogant and assured of our victory so they feel the need to defend their house," Rowynn's uncle, Prince Haenry Nyrs added quickly.

"Write the letter as if you don't have any dragons at all," Caen said.

Rowynn sat down slowly and leaned back in her chair. "We must win this battle."

Jon leaned forward and took her hand in his. Rowynn looked over at him when took hold of her wrist, rubbing her skin lightly. She pulled her hand away sharply as she tried to suppress the surge of guilt that sprang up when her thoughts turned to Matthias. It had been typical for him to hold Rowynn by the wrist instead of the hand, and when Jon did it, it caused memories that she had long forgotten to come to the front of her mind. One part of her missed Matthias, while another was ashamed that she yearned for his company even though she was happily married. It was times like this that she worried that she might someday come to regret her decision to marry Jon, even though she had learned to love him. Guilt, doubt, and desire wrestled in her mind.

She realized that Jon was staring at her with a confused look on his face. Rowynn simply took his hand and smiled at him. After a moment of hesitation, Jon smiled weakly. "We will not lose."

"My dragons will see to that," Rowynn agreed, nodding.

"These dragons are enough to take the entire Seven Kingdoms," her Lord Commander of the Men of the Mountain said. Raegnar Lytos was another of her devoted commanders.

"We would need to talk to Daenerys before making that decision," Rowynn said. "She would want to know if we were moving to conquer the Seven Kingdoms."

"But we don't have to tell her about the North?" Riordyn Martell asked.

"She already instructed me to take the North," Rowynn reminded her men. "I was stalling for the sake of my people, but now I realize that inaction does not guarantee our safety. We must be willing to risk everything in order to secure our future. I will protect my people from our enemies and I will burn them all, that I swear to you."

Fear was something that she could not help feeling. She would not cower. In fact, Rowynn felt a strong sense of determination when she thought about her family present and future. She would do anything to keep them safe, even if it meant killing thousands of men. But there would always be those who thought of her as a girl; albeit a girl who was about to lead dragons and men to war. Sooner or later, her people would have to start seeing her as their commander, not just their child queen.

"What was that about?" Jon confronted her as soon as they reached the privacy of their room.

She looked at him, trying to keep the edge of guilt from her voice. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You pulled your hand away," Jon clarified, causing Rowynn to squeeze her eyes shut as she pressed her lips into a thin line. Sensing her hesitation, he stepped towards her and placed a hand on her cheek. "You can tell me. I won't get angry."

Rowynn met his gaze, shaking her head. "I can't."

"You can," Jon paused as he grazed her cheek with his thumb, "please?"

"Lord Matthias," Rowynn said. "You reminded me of him when you stroked my wrist."

Jon's hand fell away from her face and he took a step back. "I never asked you."

"What?"

"If you still loved him—I never asked," Jon explained. He ran a hand through his hair, reminding her once again of Matthias. Rowynn took a deep breath; bracing herself for the question she knew would follow. "Do you?"

Rowynn dropped her eyes to the floor, her mind sorting frantically through the possible answers, seeking the right way to spin it. She screwed her lilac eyes shut and discarded them all, knowing that he deserved absolute honesty. When she opened them, she met Jon's waiting gaze. "I do. I'm sorry."

Jon seemed to deflate, his shoulders slumping slightly and a wisp of a breath seeping between his pursed lips. "There's no need for you to apologize," he murmured. "You loved him before you ever loved me. I never gave you the time to get over him."

"Do not blame yourself," said Rowynn as she rushed towards him, delicately taking his face in her hands. "This is my own fault and mine alone."

"How is it your fault?" Jon asked, raising an eyebrow incredulously.

"I never told you that I still harbor feelings for Matthias," Rowynn answered, dropping her hands from his face. "I should not have allowed the wedding to come to pass until I had my feelings under control."

Jon held her gaze for a few seconds before turning on his heels and striding out of the room. Rowynn followed him out into the hall hurriedly.

"Where are you going?" She called after him.

"To summon Lord Matthias," Jon answered.

Rowynn clenched her jaw as she watched him disappear around the corner.

She looked up wearily when she heard her door slide open. She found Matthias standing in her doorway, handsome as ever in a simple red cotton shirt and black pants. Rowynn faced him slowly, taking a moment to take in the rest of his appearance. His relaxed, self-assured posture, his blonde hair was swept back, out of his face, making it easy to look upon his gentle blue eyes.

"King Jon told me to come and see you," Matthias told her. "He said that you needed to speak to me about something."

Rowynn clenched her jaw having seemed to have lost the ability to speak. The words caught in her throat whenever she tried.

"Are you okay?" Matthias asked kindly as he stepped towards her, his eyes full of concern.

"Jon knows," Rowynn said gravely and Matthias narrowed his eyes at her.

"Knows what?" He queried cautiously.

"That I love you," she admitted quietly. She moved closer to him hesitantly and met his gaze. "I truly and completely love you. I want you to know that before we die."

"We are not going to die," Matthias said with as much confidence as he could manage. "You are not going to die."

"You cannot know what tomorrow brings," Rowynn said, "but I do."

"What do you mean?" Matthias questioned, furrowing his brow.

"I have visions of the future and of the past," she admitted quietly. "Dark shadows come to me at night and I fear they mean to take everything from me."

"These visions," Matthias started, "what are they of?"

"Pain… suffering… death," Rowynn told him hesitantly.

"Is it your pain you speak of? Your death?" Matthias asked. "Or someone you know?"

Rowynn looked up at him, reading his soft features. "Someone else."

"Who is it?" Matthias questioned as politely as he could.

"Everyone—everyone that I know and love," Rowynn answered as she dropped her gaze to the floor. "They were all dead and I could have saved them, only I didn't."

"It was only a dream, Rowynn," Matthias said as he stepped toward her. He lifted a hand as if he was about to lift her chin as he had done many times before, but seemed to change his mind, letting it fall limply at his side. He regarded her calmly instead.

"I won't let this one become real," Rowynn said quickly as she lifted her chin in defiance. "I will not lose them."

"Dreams pass with time," Matthias told her softly. She thought he appeared concerned for her, but she stopped herself from going to him to receive comfort.

"I'd much rather not dream at all," Rowynn remarked quietly. A long silence ensued before she spoke again, asking him, "What are we supposed to do about us?"

"You are married," Matthias reminded her. "There is nothing we can do."

"I know," said Rowynn. "I believe that I truly love him, Matthias."

"I know you do," he said, taking a deep breath as he stared at her. "I know you do."

"But I love you also," she continued.

"I cannot speak to you about this when I know it can go nowhere. I must find Jon and tell him that we are done," Matthias said as he started towards the door. He stopped halfway there and turned around to face Rowynn again, a disheartened look manipulating his features. "From the moment I met you, all those years ago, not a day has gone by when you haven't plagued my thoughts. Now that you're married to Jon, I'm in agony. I'm haunted by the memories of us together. You are in my very soul, tormenting me. I wish that I could just wish away my feelings, but I am fated to love you until the end of my days."

Rowynn sat down on the edge of her bed as he walked out the door and buried her face in her hands. Her heart was being torn in two different directions and she had no idea which way to go. Deep down she knew that if it came to choosing between Jon and Matthias that she would chose her husband. That was her duty, and she would always do her duty.

A/N: Please review or favorite and follow. It means a lot to me to hear feedback and it makes me update faster. Thank you for reading!