A/N: As promised here is another update! Next one will be out in the next week or so (hopefully, if I'm not too busy in Ottawa then NYC!), please leave reviews because they really do keep me going. Constructive or otherwise, getting those little comments makes me feel like the time I put in to this story is worth it and motivates me to get it out for you guys. I hope you enjoy this, and damn I need to stop rewriting scenes!

eleven

The fire was dying out, the flames barely licking the logs as they had been in the hours before. Arabelle had strewn herself across the lounge chair, her heavy linen bed robes draped across the chair and hair in much the same fashion having been scrubbed clean during her bath. Her nose was buried in a book that she hadn't cared to remember the title of, mindless blathering about the politics of Essos. It was a distraction, at least.

Arabelle had spent the day with Bran, accompanying him to the stables to show their gifted diagram of Bran's new saddle and taking measurements. The boy was excited, though she could see the hesitation in his eyes. Part of him probably thought it was too good to be true.

She had considered leaving the castle at night, sneaking out to go and visit their Lannister guest. She was interested in hearing what he would have to say – why would he make such a grand gesture? What did he have to gain from this?

But no. She suspected it was not wise to corner him. Instead, she decided she might have a night to catch her breath. She sighed and craned her head back, placing the book over her face. The last night she had a night like this to herself was the night before she found out about Jon Arryn's passing. She had curled up in the furs of her bed and enjoyed a hot-spiced tea with a book discussing the many languages of Westeros.

She missed the Nightfort, missed her father and her brother. The idea of not being able to run in to her brothers room at sunrise to scream and wake him, not hanging around in the kitchens hoping that Mrs Flynnt would give her some scraps, not being able to trick new recruits of the guard in to a round or two of archery. She missed home. And she missed Jon.

She hadn't had much time to think of him since he left. She was constantly busy, always on her feet trying to do what she could to help at Winterfell. Maybe she was looking for distractions.

Robb had been so good to her, making sure she was fed and watered when she would oft forget. He'd break fast with her every morning, the two of them laughing over childhood stories and managing to evade any talk of their impending marriage. It was good to have that time alone with him, to just be childhood friends. She could be marrying far worse than he.

Though Arabelle had taken to acting the part of a young lady foolishly in love with her betrothed lord, Robb had appeared more uncomfortable with her actions. When she would touch him, he would often stiffen. Only once had he genuinely reciprocated her touch, when he had gripped her hand weeks before at the meet with Lady Stark. When she had tried to stifle his anger.

That he didn't want to touch her intrigued Arabelle – she would be ignorant if she said that most men would drop to their knees for the chance to have her wrap her arms around them. But Robb wasn't like that. It almost felt like a challenge.

A rasp came from the door, and whoever it was cleared their throat. The noise suddenly drew Arabelle from her thoughts, jumping and managing to drop her book in the process. She sat up and stared at the door, her eyes briefly flickering to the book on the floor. It was beyond late, who would want her at this time of night? There was a knock again. "One minute!" Arabelle grabbed the book from the floor and placed it on the end table next to her cup of tea in front of her chair, gathering her skirts and heading towards the door.

The door opened, and Arabelle took a split second to realise who it was. Robb smiled warmly down at her, his curly auburn hair looking more unkempt than usual. "Good evening."

Arabelle was lost for words, peering her head out in to the hall and looking back and forth before pulling Robb in to the room with her. Robb jerked forward and smirked as he took a few steps in to the room toward the fireplace. Arabelle pushed the heavy wooden door closed, turning around with and leaning against it for a second. "What in gods names were you thinking, Robb? If anyone had seen you come to my quarters so late at night…" Her eyebrows were creased as she lifted herself off the door with her palms, walking towards her cold pot of tea. "People talk, Winterfell is no exception to that."

She walked over to the fire, placing the pot of tea in the bracket above the fire before poking it gently and urging more flames.

Robb's eyes followed her, tracing what little he could see of her. "It's rather dark in here." You could almost hear the smirk in his tone. As she turned the flames slowly brightened, half of her face illuminated by the light of them. Gods, but she is beautiful Robb thought.

Her eyebrows creased and she folded her arms, taking a step toward him. She looked up at him, her eyes searching his. She was so small compared to him, her waist so delicate that he wanted to wrap his arms around them.

"Are you drunk?"

It was then that Robb realised that he probably was, more so than he thought. Would he have come to Arabelle's room had he not been drinking? This late at night? Would he be thinking all of these thoughts?

"I may have had a drink… or two." He smirked, his smile playful.

Arabelle rolled her eyes, pushing him down in to the seat behind him. "You stay put there, I'll fix you some tea." She muttered, turning to sit before the fireplace.

It was silent for a moment, Arabelle poking the fireplace with an iron rod and Robb watching her intently. Her small hands were beautiful, with long and slender fingers and surprisingly well-kept nails. He wasn't entirely sure how hands could be beautiful, but he supposed that every part of Arabelle truly was.

"Thank you. For today." He whispered, running his ugly and dirty fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry I couldn't do more." Her eyes met his, wide and curious. "I understand. To look someone in the eye who might have crippled your brother…" She looked to the floor, fiddling with her dress.

"How do you do it?"

Her eyes met his. "Do what?" She asked, tilting her head slightly.

"How can you separate yourself from vengeful sister and welcoming Lady? Bran is as much your brother as he is mine." He whispered, tapping his fingers on the arm of the lounge chair.

Arabelle chuckled, her eyes meeting his and eyebrows exaggerated. "I'm just a cold-hearted bitch, quite frankly."

"No. No you aren't." Robb's eyes were intense, holding her gaze.

Arabelle's eyelids fluttered, she grasped the rod once more and poked the wood in the fireplace. "My father taught me at a young age that anger and bitterness only clouds the mind. Though he's a stubborn mule, he wasn't so much leading by example as leading by words." She smiled her adorable crooked smile, though her eyes looked sad as she was caught in nostalgia. "My grandmother likes to think that she's taught me the invaluable skills of a puppet master."

Robb's eyes never left her. "And is she right?"

Arabelle smiled before meeting his eyes again. "She's never wrong. I'm sure you've figured that out by now."

The pot of tea started to squeal, hot steam gushing out of the spout. Arabelle placed the rod to the side of the fireplace before standing and wrapping her sleeve around the handle of the pot, taking a cup that was on the end table and pouring the aromatic tea in to it. Robb leant forward and picked up the book that was next to the cup, assuming this was what she had been reading before he had come in. "A History of the Rulers of Essos." He smirked, flicking through and pausing on intermittent pages. "Thrilling, I'm sure."

Arabelle chuckled as she placed the pot down on the table, taking the cup of tea in to her hands. "Distracting, more like." She took the book out of his hands and passed him the cup of tea. "It's been the first evening in awhile I've been able to sit down without having someone beckoning my name."

Robb took her hand and spun her around, pulling her on to his lap. "Arabelle." He mocked, his other hand balancing his cup of tea on the armrest. "You're needed." She smiled, hitting him playfully as she made to get up. "And where am I needed?"

He pulled her back down on to him, thwarting her attempt at getting up. "Right here." He whispered, his smile fading as he met her eyes. She slackened in his arms; her body relaxing and her smile too waned as they gazed in to each other's eyes.

"Gods, but you're beautiful." He whispered almost breathlessly, his hand still holding hers, his arm wrapped around her. Her brows furrowed and she bit her lip, leaning in to him. Her lips met his and parted them gently, lingering for a moment.

Arabelle pulled back to look him in the eyes, her brows creased. Robb smiled at her, taking a sip of the tea in his other hand before her hand snatched it out of his, almost slamming it on the table before her lips crashed upon his, her hands grazing his neck. Robb responded with the same ferocity, one hand gripping her waist and the other coming up to cup her cheek. Their lips met with an fierceness he hadn't anticipated, a passion behind it that Robb had never felt the like of before. This was something that happened in his dreams, but for it to actually be real, for his lips to have met hers? He wanted to take all of her in, for this moment to last forever.

As their kiss intensified, Robb's hand ran from her waist to her thigh, though not daring to move any further. She shuffled, moving one leg to the other side of his, straddling him and running a hand down his chest, flicking back straps that held his tunic in place, as he ran his hands up her dress, pulling off the heaviest layer of her bed robes. He leant forward as she ripped off his tunic and pulled off his linen shirt, his chest bare. She pulled back, looking down at his chest and tracing his the muscled lines of his chest and stomach before meeting his lips again, her tongue grazing his bottom lip. His hands were on her waist, slowly rising, as if he were waiting for her approval.

Suddenly, a crash sounded outside the door. Arabelle jumped, though Robb would not have noticed had she not reacted. Scratching on the wood sounded along with a dog's whimpering, a familiar whimper that could only belong to his beloved Grey Wind. Arabelle looked back to Robb and the two of them burst in to laughter, her hand still pressed against his chest.

Arabelle looked mortified as she pushed herself off of him and wrapped her arms around herself, dressed in only a pale blue silken robe she tip toed to the door to let the wolf in, greeting her with a slobbery kiss on the face. "And just where have you been, Ser wolf?" she forced a laugh, hugging the hound before setting him off to his master.

Robb was still in the lounge chair, his arms bracing the rests and a few beads of sweat running down his chest. He smiled and gave his wolf a quick rub on the head, but cursed him for making an appearance at such an inconvenient of time. He rolled his head back, looking straight up at the stone ceiling of the chamber. "Probably a blessing in disguise if we want any sleep." Arabelle awkwardly chuckled and looked uncomfortable, picking up the clothes strewn around the room and draping them over the armrest of the lounge chair Rob was sat in.

"Probably." He muttered, breathing slowly to slow his heart.

He rose and took his shirt and tunic, pulling his shirt back on loosely and holding his tunic in his hand. "I'm sorry to have interrupted your reading." He made way for the door, Grey Wind trotting ahead of him.

"Robb..."

"Sleep well, Arabelle." He pulled the door shut behind him and made way for his room, cursing as he walked in the dark. How could I be so stupid?

It had been an uneasy few weeks initially at the Wall. It hadn't quite been what Jon had expected. Books had romanticised the Night's Watch to be this order of honourable men – men who protected the realm and composed themselves with pride. And maybe that was true once, but the Night's Watch now was reduced to a tenth of the men, with only two castles of the twelve currently occupied and the occupants were mainly thieves and rapists who wanted to keep their hands and their balls in tact.

The other men had hated Jon to begin with – Ser Alliser Thorne, the man in charge of training the recruits, had taken a particular disliking to him. He was the only recruit with a semblance of experience with a sword, and possibly, the only one who had not committed a major crime.

Tyrion had examined that in his time visiting the wall, and had even given the other recruits a bit of a talking to. In time, Jon had come to call a few of them friends. Instead of beating them to a pulp in swordplay, he would help them to improve their techniques, teaching them the skills that he had learned in his time at Winterfell.

It was a distraction during the day, but come night when he was in his quarters by himself, Ghost lying at his feet, he could not stop thinking about Arabelle. Her crooked smile, the lighter sun-kissed streaks of her hair, her small waist, her breasts. The only news he had from Winterfell was that Bran had woken up. The next raven he would receive would probably send word of the joining of House Stark and Benefort. Damn the gods.

Jon was scrubbing the table in silence with the newest recruit, Samwell Tarly. He was a plump noble's son, who didn't fit in at home. He'd had a rough go of it, being forced to the wall by his father and as soon as he'd arrived, he'd had a worse reception than Jon. He was a coward, too scared to fight. They'd called him 'piggy'. Though Jon had taken a liking to him, he had a good heart.

"I bet most of the officers go to that brothel in Mole's Town." Sam muttered as he spread more powder across the tables.

"I wouldn't doubt it." Jon responded, not lifting his eyes from his hands.

"Don't you think it's a little bit unfair? Making us take our vows while they sneak off for a little Sally on the side?"

That made Jon laugh. "Sally on the side?" He asked, raising his eyebrows.

"It's silly, isn't it?" Sam muttered, ignoring Jon's amusement. "What, we can't defend the Wall unless we're celibate?" Sam stopped scrubbing for a moment, raising his hand in frustration. "It's absurd."

Jon kept scrubbing; though he had to admit the same thought had crossed his mind. "I didn't think you'd be so upset about it."

Sam perked up, from his face Jon could see he had taken offence. "Why not? Because I'm fat?"

Jon rolled his eyes and rose up slowly, gripping the scrubbing brush in his hand tightly. "No…"

"I like girls just as much as you do." Sam protested, his eyes glazing over slightly. "They might not like me as much…"

Both took their brushes and started scrubbing again before Sam broke the silence once more. "I've never… been with one." He said, focusing his eyes intently on the table they were cleaning. "You've probably had hundreds."

Jon paused and clenched his hands, staring down at them. The hands that had held Arabelle while she slept, had touched her bare skin. "No…" he whispered, not baring to meet Sam's eye. "As a matter of fact, I'm the same as you."

Sam snorted, rolling his eyes. "Yeah. I find that hard to believe" He smirked, focusing back on his task.

"I came very close once." Jon said, placing the brush down and staring at the table. He didn't know why he was saying this; he had always been incredibly private. He'd never spoken of Arabelle to anyone, lest he lose his hands, balls, or his head. "I was alone in a room with a naked girl… but…" He could see her, almost clear as day. Her body illuminated by the moonlight, the lines of her toned stomach.

"Didn't know where to put it?" Sam smirked smugly.

"I know where to put it."

"Was she old and ugly?"

Jon smiled, turning around to sit on the table. "Young. The most beautiful girl in the North." He took the brush in his hands again, looking for something to fiddle with. "Words can't do her justice." He smiled.

"What 's her name?" Sam was intrigued, his eyes lighting up.

Jon thought briefly. What harm would it do telling him of Arabelle? He was already at the Wall and Arabelle would be married soon. If word got out, it wouldn't do much harm.

"Arabelle. Arabelle Benefort."

Sam gasped, his big brown eyes wider than Jon had ever seen them. "Benefort… the blue fox? A noble woman? Gods, Jon, I thought you'd say she was a whore or a tavern wench!" He dropped the brush, leaning over the table with more intense curiosity. "Is she really as beautiful as they say? What colour hair? Eyes?" He looked like a child in a shop full of sweets.

"Even more beautiful. Brown, but light in the sun." Jon smiled as he thumbed the brush. "Most often blue, but they change everyday." He missed her eyes. Often it was a good indication of her mood.

Sam smiled before awkwardly flickering his eyes. "And… her um…" He made some gestures around his chest, smiling crookedly.

"You don't want to know." Jon smiled.

"What, that good?"

"Better." He smirked, looking down to the brush once more.

"Oh no." Their chuckles died out, and Jon knew the question that was coming next.

"So… why didn't you make love to the most beautiful woman in the North, or, excuse me, the world?"

Jon felt a lump in his throat, and suddenly he had to voice something that he hadn't truly even told Arabelle. "My name is Snow. I'm not a Stark; I'm a bastard of the North. Had anyone known Arabelle Benefort had been touched before her marriage, at best she would be exiled and have to whore herself in some far away brothel."

"Do you love her?" Sam asked, his eyes searching Jon's.

"Aye." Never much one for words, but Jon could barely swallow back that lump at this point.

"And gods forbid she were to get pregnant. I wanted to. So badly, I wanted to touch her. But what if I fathered another bastard? Another Snow?" Jon swallowed back the lump finally, standing to get back to the task at hand. "It's not a good life for a child."

It was silent between the two of them as they picked back up their brushes and got to work. Then Jon could hear Sam smirk.

"So… you didn't know where to put it?"