Disclaimer: I don´t own GoT or the part of the poem "Darkness" from OTH I think.

I suggest you to listen to the song through the first part though.

Chapter 11

"I'm so tired of being here
Suppressed by all my childish fears
And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
'Cause your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone

These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase."

– My Immortal by Evanescene (Tania & Cersei)

Dawn is a pale bruise rising in the starry night sky when, my lips touched the rim of the goblet for the last time, draining it of it´s cheap but effective beer. Winterfell´s bells still echoed through the castle, reminding of the grief and loss with every passing moment, as the wind whipped strands of loose black hair onto my motionless face. What a harsh thing life is, dangling the chance of happiness in front of one and then snatching it away as soon as the person reaches for it... Does this darkness have a name?

This cruelty, this hatred, how did it find us? Did it steal into our lives or did we seek it out and embrace it? Unseeing eyes stared out into emptiness; life had become black and white, no in-between, and no shades of grey, just cold and blank facts. Slumping back against the wall, sharp stones dug into my back, the liquid mud beneath me soaked through the layers of my silk dress, the ground felt cool under my fingers. I felt dead. I was tired of this world of black and white, tired of happiness falling to ashes as the pages turn. Tired of life.

I squeezed my eyes shut, releasing puffs of shallow breath, counting my inhales and exhales to assure I´m still alive. Cramps troubled my stomach, so I raised my hand, rubbing small circles over it, like mother did. Like she used to. I miss her. I want to go home, but I can´t. I shall never again feel the sunshine drizzling against my skin, hear the waves crushing against the rocks, taste honeyed wine imported from Dorne, smell the awful mixture of scents down in the mucky filled streets of King´s Landing nor see my mother´s smile. These opportunities have been ripped from my hands, only today.

"You have to be strong. You will make it on your own. You are my daughter. My daughter and neither the seven nor the old gods could prevent me from seeing you again." , her pleading voice was so loud, so real, that I almost believed her next to me, but when I opened my eyes, there was no one but my shadow. She isn´t here. She will never be.

"Lady Stark! Lady Stark!"

She lied. She lied. She lied. She lied.

"Princess!"

How could she leave me? Why did she? I need her. I need her.

"Tania!" Burst a voice through my thoughts, forcing me back to the present. My nostrils flared, as the shape of Jon Snow filled the emptiness. Fingers of young sunlight shone through his dark mop of hair, concern and relief nesting in his grey eyes.

"Jon Snow," I slurred, slipping back into my role, the emotionless mask steadied over my face.

"The whole castle was searching for you! What are you doing here?" He said unnerved, approaching me like I was a cornered animal.

"Like in the good ol´ days," I smiled, humored by the parallels, "But to your question. I am honoring King Robert Baratheon by drinking beer that tastes like horse piss."

Fingers wrapped around the silver goblet, I tipped it to my lips. I knew what he must have seen, glancing down at me: a bundle of wet cloth, wrapped about a fatherless feared girl that hid in the shadows and drank her pain away. He must´ve pitied me.

But I did not need his pity. I did not need anyone´s pity. I am the bloody Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, or at least I was. "You needn´t pity me, Jon Snow. My father was a drunken coward. May he rest in pieces" hiccup "Peace."

My eyes shied away from his in shame, as my words were met by silence. "Much like me right now, I suppose." I muttered, scolding myself internally for behaving like this. Gods, I´m pathetic.

"You aren´t pathetic," Jon stated calmly, his intense glare shifting over my blushing face. Have I said that out loud? Seven hells, Tania control yourself!

He cleared his throat, clearly just as uncomfortable. "We should get you inside, you´re going to catch a cold out here."

Agreeing, I nodded quickly, attempting to move my legs, but unfortunately my limbs were heavy and stiff from the icy ground. "Seems I have already become half a bloody corpse," I hissed, clenching my teeth as I stubbornly tried again to rise. My struggling has not gone unnoticed by Robb´s half-brother.

"Here, allow me," His voice whispered into my ear, whilst he put his arms under my knees and on my back in support, before scooping me up with a jolt. I, however, could not find the strength to fight him on this matter, and swallowed my wounded pride as he carried me down the corridors toward mine and my husband´s joined dorm.

I rested my tired head on his shoulder, unable to hold it high any longer, while my gaze wandered over the side of his face. It seemed I was no heavy burden to carry – if I was, he most certainly did not show, because his face was unreadable and his breathing even. Out of all Stark children, Jon resembled his Father the most. He was a doubtlessly a true Northman.

"I want to go home, Jon Snow," I said, my voice barely a faint whisper, and eyes closing briefly as I absorbed his scent. He smelled of horses and leather and something spicy, I realized.

"I´m taking you."

"No," I yawned, covering my mouth just in time, "King´s Landing. Where I was born. Where my mother awaits me. Where Jaime and Finn and Galen are. Where my father lies. I want to leave for my home, no matter what punishment I´d have to endure."

Silence.

"This could never be home to me, for home is not simply a destination, it is where you find love, in the darkest of times."

Silence.

The flow of spoken thoughts dragged me to the dark ocean of dreams, slowly pulling me under. "I had wished it would be, though."


Earlier that day

A berry exploded between my teeth as I bit down on it, unexpectedly spreading a sour taste in my mouth. I grimaced.

"Robb Stark!" I shrieked accusingly, removing the last of the juice with a handkerchief as his booming laughter echoed through the large room. "That was so mean."

With his hand clutching his side, he leaned forward trying to catch his breath as he smiled at my offended expression. He reached out, those pools of crystalline blue sparkling in genuine amusement, wiping a drop from the corner of my mouth before liking in away with the tip of his tongue.

My lips formed a thin line, not giving in, although my insides were bubbling with laughter. My eyes narrowed as I watched him dip a piece of bread into the jar of honey, coating it with bee´s gold before turning his attention back to me. He smirked mischievously.

"Here, have something sweet, Lady grim," He said mockingly, guiding the bread toward me. Stubborn as I was, I rolled my lips halfway into my mouth, pressing them together.

So, instead of having me eat it, he smeared the honey from the end of my nose down to my chin, grinning widely as he examined his work. Cross-eyed, I caught a glimpse of my glistering nose, crinkling it. A low chuckle rumbled from the depths of his chest as his eyes followed my movements.

"You arse," I mumbled, annoyed.

"Oh such a bad word from such a pretty mouth, it surely is uncommon to hear of such a high lady."

"It might become a habit, if the Lord does not stop making a fool of me."

As if ordered, he stopped laughing, his lips simply curving into a smile that only foreshadowed trouble. Without hesitation, he bent over, attacking my sweet-coated face with his mouth. He began sucking and licking my skin, squishing my head between his large hands.

"Ewww! No! Robb, stop! Eww, gods, stop! Sto-" He quickly muffled my high-pitched screams with a kiss, then continued. "Robb Stark I swear if you don´t end this right n-" kiss "ow. I´ll call for help! Sand-" kiss "Stop! Grey wind, get your master! Bite him! Help me! Please!"

Robb halted, glancing over his shoulder to his direwolf, to see if any reaction is coming from him. His golden eyes were directed at me with a head tilt, unmoving still.

"You little traitor," I said, pointing at the pet, whilst wiggling out of Robb´s grip.


My palm moved soothingly over the crinkled page of the large book on my lap, the familiar scent of paper and ink tickled up my nostrils, the world closing up around me. The only communication to the outer world I had was the even puffs of warm breath caressing the flesh of my neck, as I leaned against his slightly raising and lowering chest. His long legs were crooked at either of my side, allowing me to position the heavy book nicely.

Every now and then, I would trip over the words I was re-reading. Those letters burned into my mind from the past, I would forget, for the overwhelming sensation blooming to life within me would invade my mind, having it fray.

"What are you reading?" He whispered into my tangled hair, careful not to startle me.

"The great Houses of Westeros," I remembered the title, "It was a gift of my uncle, Tyrion. He kept an eye on each family, during all those years, always adding new members. I´ve gotten it for my fifth name day. Here, see."

I flipped through the pages, skipping the Arryns and the first members of House Baratheon, until my father´s drawn young face appeared. "King Robert Baratheon, Lord Stannis Baratheon, Lord Renly Baratheon, and then comes me and my siblings... It was drawn a few moons ago."

The long onyx ringlets barely reached to the end of my spine, contrasting the golden dress I wore. Baratheon colors, intentionally. A ruby heart adorned my chest, adding a spark of Lannister. I did not smile then, my face was straight, the chest out, stomach sucked in and spine stiffened, while Mikaelo sketched. It was a heavy burden, that fitting golden crown atop my head.

"You´re beautiful," He mumbled, as he kissed the exposed skin of my neck, before hooking his chin over my shoulder, to get a better look.

"My favorites were apparently the Targaryens, especially Prince Rheagar. Mother said I used to kiss him, in spite of father."

"Rheagar Targaryen kidnapped my aunt."

"I do not believe he did. He was very noble. And if your Father´s Sister, Lyanna, really was as in the stories I´ve heard, I doubt she would have been captured and held that easily."

"So you are saying my aunt went freely with him?" He asked curiosly, with raised eyebrows.

"Yes. I do not know if it was out of love, or if she wanted to escape the arranged marriage between my father and her. But what I do know is that my father built his illusions through anger and pain. His broken heart would not accept hers to belong to another. His love for her had wrecked him, as you´ve seen."

"No one truly knows, but her. I suppose I doesn´t really matter any longer, she´s gone."

"Tragic how love brought war to Westeros, yet it took the ones we loved."

He hummed silently, in agreeing as I turned pages rapidly, passing on to the Tyrells.

Robb cleared his throat, before breaking through the lapsing silence again. "What is your relation to Loras Tyrell?"

"Hmm?" I managed absently, my eyes hanging onto the history of high garden.

"You just seemed pretty friendly with him," He said plainly, shifting uncomfortably behind me.

I lowered the book hesitantly, averting my eyes from the sentence I was about to read. "Loras? Yes, he´s my friend. My best friend, actually."

"Do you kiss all your friends?" He spoke gruffly, the evidence of jealousy now unmistakable.

"I beg your pardon?" My head whipped around to face him, glancing over my shoulder into the blazing fire captured in clear ice blue. Clenched jaw, furrowed eyebrows and a thin line of lips, pressured until it paled to white, his eyes narrowed at me, as were mine. Jealousy most surely did not suit him.

"What is your relation with him?" He demanded to know, the force in his tone multiplying.

"Who told you?" I questioned back, challengingly, although the blood was beginning to boil in my veins.

"Answer me!"

Then it dawned on me, approaching on tip-toes before stricking me like a lightning. Of course. There was only one person. "It was that bloody Greyjoy, was it not?"

He halted, startled, and I knew. "It matters not."

"Are you sending spies now after me, Robb Stark?" His gaze dropped in defeat, and I abruptly stood up on my feet, instinctively straightening my skirt with my hands nervously. "Because you should arrange another. Yours most certainly did not report to you correctly, for I had kissed him farewell on the cheek."

"I did not send him after you. He came to me."

"You should not let him feed you lies. I have told you already that he is not a trustworthy source!"

"He is like a brother to me. I couldn´t have known!"

"If you weren´t so gods damned thick headed, you would´ve known that I would never do such a thing!"

„You should've just asked me." I added, stemming my clenched fists on each side of the hips.

"I have," He insisted, his eyes boring into mine like daggers, as he straightened his posture.

"No, you accused me of cheating on you, because your brother served you a false story. And you believed him!" A sigh calmed my nerves slightly, my shoulders sacking in, hands dropping. "You wish to know the truth then?"

His tongue slipped out, wetting his bottom lip. The anger instantly fading from eyes, as he saw me relax. He nodded.

"Loras and I – we knew one another ever since we were toddlers. We were born only days apart. All my life it had been him, Finnley, Galen and I. He is as much my brother as you claim Greyjoy to be yours." I explained, taking a deep breath. "Half a year ago, when our engagement was announced, my mother would've done everything in her power to have it annulled. She organized a false betrothal that assumingly happened before my father promised me to another. You must understand, Loras had only agreed to help me. There had never been more between us. But this is more, Robb. You are more."

"Tania –" He tried, but I raised my hand to silence him. I would not hear more of it.

The pads of my fingers massaged my forehead, the drumming cacophony pounding in my ears as the headache grew. "You have duties to attend to. And I am in need of some fresh air." I clutched the silk of my dress in my hands, to not step on it accidently, and turned. "I suggest you to learn to control your misplaced jealousy. And next time better talk to me firstly or better yet, do not listen to that filthy Greyjoy."

Having the last word in this matter, I strode out the room, before he could say another thing.


For the fourth time this afternoon my needle stitched trough the rough fabric, into my fingertip.

I groaned in frustration, finally putting it aside. "Maryn, would you bring me some wine?" I rarely called my handmaiden by her full name, except when my mood was already bad.

"Yes, my lady." She answered, curtsying and leaving the room in fast pace.

The women – more girls than women, really – surrounding me glanced between one another, speaking in muffled voices, and every now and then their eyes shifted to me. I refrained from rolling my eyes dramatically. The tendency to gossip seems to be equal in the South and North both. To me, it was simply annoying.

"This needlework is so very boring, don't you think Arya?" I said to the youngest daughter of Lord Eddard, who was currently sitting at my side, basically displaying the same expression as mine.

"Absolutely," She grumbled under her breath, having Septa Mordane turn to her with a scolding look upon her face, "I would rather practice archery right now."

"Shall we go then?" I offered, my lips twitching into a genuine smile. "I would love to have some archery lessons; do you think you can teach me?"

"Yes!" She beamed, her smile eating up half of her face as she sprang off the stool. I followed her lead and rose as well, preparing to leave immediately.

"Your highness, I´m afraid this is not possible. I have gotten strict orders from Lady Stark to not let Lady Arya leave under any condition." The Septa interrupted, eyeing the girl sternly.

"Septa Mordane, I am Lady Stark now, am I not? And I order Arya to entertain me with lessons in archery." I contoured, smiling politely, despite my rather commanding tone.

The Septa frowned, but nodded anyway. "I will have to report this to Lady Catelyn, Lady Arya."

"I am no Lady," She retorted in a mumble, dismiss coating her child like voice, whilst she headed towards the door already. Speeding up a little, to catch up on her, I gave the shocked ladies a mocking wink, before stepping out into a cloudy day. At least they now have material to talk about.

"Thank you from rescuing me from them," Arya said, kicking a stone out of her way.

"You are very welcome. I never liked needlework either, it is completely unnecessary. I could not understand why Myrcella was so fond of it," I replied, the image of my golden haired sister painting in my mind.

She shrugged, shoving her hands in the pockets of her pants. "Sansa likes to be a Lady as well, she dreams of a prince on a white stallion, the ones in these stupid songs she always sings. It is so annoying. When I grow up, I want to be a knight!"

"A knight? Like Ser Loras?"

"No. I want to be like Queen Nymeria."

My lips curved into a smile. I have read of the legendary warrior queen in my book, she who crossed the narrow sea with an army of ten thousand ships, conquering all Dorne with an alliance with the House of Martell. Arya had named her direwolf after her, I realized.

The queen of the Rhyone had a flame within her, burning brighter than a hundred suns. And somehow I could see a spark of that fire in the young Stark girl´s eyes.

"I am assured you will."

"You are?" She said confused with furrowed brows, scanning me for lies.

"I am," I told her, crooking a smirk on one side of my mouth. "I have a book in my bedchambers you´d might like to look at. You could learn more of her."

She pursed her lips, momentary considering the idea before a smile broke out on her face. "I would like that!"

"Your highness!" A voice called, and I stilled in my steps immediately.

A balding grey man hasted towards us, his heavy robes brushed the ground behind him, picking up some fallen leaves and the clinking sound of chains accompanied him. I could not phantom the emotion in his crinkled face – terror, fear, concern perhaps – as he reached us breathing heavily.

"Maester Luwin?" It was more of a guess than recognition, really.

"My Lady, I am in need to talk to you," He said, glancing down at Arya with his grey eyes, before adding, "Privately."

"Yes, of course." I nodded, facing the Stark girl with an apologetic look afterwards, "Go on. I shall join you as soon as I´m finished here," I promised.

"Okay," She said, running down the wet stone stairs into the yard, with her fingers between her lips while she whistled for Nymeria.

Winterfell´s Maester and I walked in silence towards my private quarters, no further words exchanged between the two of us, our steps echoing through the corridors as we hurried.

"You seem troubled, Maester Luwin," I remarked, pushing the large wooden door open, giving Sandor a court nod in greeting.

"My Lady, perhaps you should take a seat."

"I prefer to be standing, I´ve been sitting all afternoon," I said, pouring myself a cup of wine, offering him one as well, but he declined.

His bony hands vanished in his dark grey robes, reappearing with a piece of parchment in its grip. At once I identified the broken sigil attached to it, the crowned stag, of the royal family. I stood, frozen, placing the cup back on the table. It means no good.

"My Lady," He began, swallowing with narrowed eyes – his Adams apple bobbing in his throat, "I´ve been burdened with the delivery of a very disturbing message."

Several different possibilities knocked against my skull, swirling through my mind like a swarm of bees, a few voices louder than the others, a few whispering, and a few screaming out in pain. My spine stiffened; sweat escaped the pores of my cold palms. I barely managed to keep my breathing intact. This one moment seemed to last an eternity.

"King Robert Baratheon has passed the previous night," He said carefully, and the words stung like something sharp in my heart.

"I am truly sorry for your loss, Lady Tania." He placed a comforting hand on my arm, even though I thought it was only supposed to steady me, but I gave no mind to it. My eyes stared blankly, unblinking at the paper in his wrinkled hand.

The veil of numbness that covered my heart put me in a haze, I felt it bleeding still, drops splattering on the surface of my soul, but it became irrelevant. My arms were loose at my sides, the feet flat upon the carpet; it felt like I was kept in place by a string about my neck. How? I wanted to ask, but my voice was buried deep, and I owned no longer strength to dig for it. So I held my mouth closed in a slim line.

I wanted him to leave. I needed to be alone, for I needed to overcome this plain numbness, I craved the pain. With a tense nod in acceptance, I tried to dismiss him. But he did not move, he stayed right in place.

"I´m afraid that is not all, my Lady. Your brother, King Tommen, has accused Lord Stark of treason and summoned Lord Robb to King´s Landing to swear fealty to him."

My head snapped up, out the fog, as the word treason left his mouth. "No, Tommen is a sweet boy, he´d never do that! I shall ride South with Robb, Tommen would listen to me, he´d allow him to leave."

The Maester endured my talk with an undoubting sadness resting within his grey eyes, that it announced my idea impossible. "It´s too late, my Lady. Lord Robb has already made his decision."

"What is the meaning of this, Maester Luwin?" I asked through barred teeth, but somewhere deep inside of me, I heard I voice whisper that I already knew.

"Lord Stark has ordered to call the Banners."

War.

The mere thought of that injected my bones with fear, anger and pure terror. It is not only my father I´ve lost, but either Robb or my family as well. I lowered my eyes for I was afraid he´d see what I hold captive behind them.

"You are free to leave now, Maester." I ordered more than I offered, wanting him out of my sight permanently.

"Yes, my Lady."

Before the door was fully closed, I marched over to the wooden table, picked up they toy soldier Jaime had given me and threw it hard against the wall. The next minutes were passed in a blur; my hands grasped anything in reach and sentenced it to complete destruction. The book, goblets, the jug, several candlesticks, jewelry chests, plates with fruits, even the one with the unripe berries I ate this morning, simply everything I got a handle on. My face has heated into a bright shade of red, my breathing erratic as I stared hypnotically at the remains on the floor. My fists were clenched so tight that my nails burrowed into my skin, drawing blood that began to trickle down my fingers.

With loud, stomping footsteps I sprinted out the destroyed room, down the halls, toward the only person that was to blame.


My palm pounded against the wood frantically, coloring it crimson. "ROBB STARK!" I screamed, unable to hold down my demons any longer. As no one answered, I tore the heavy door of the study open widely.

Robb stood bent over a map, his hands clinging to the edge of the large table for support, but he straightened at entrance. Theon Greyjoy stood at his side, eyeing me suspiciously and Jon Snow at the other. Despite the sight of that filthy cur, my eyes were strictly directed at my husband as I stormed towards him.

I roughly pushed the Greyjoy out of my way, for he stood protectively in front of my prey.

"Tania, wha-" His words were soon cut off, as my hand struck him hard across the right side of his face.

Greyjoy yanked me away from him by the shoulders, gripping onto them tightly. I instinctively buried my elbow deep into his stomach, like I´ve been taught, sending him stumbling backwards as he gasped for air.

Jon´s grey eyes widened behind his half-brother, whilst Robb rubbed the red handprint on his face gaping at me.

"Get out of here! Both of you!" I commanded raucously, "And Greyjoy, before you go off gossiping like Olenna Tyrell´s little lapdogs I recommend you to first consider a life without your tongue, for you will be carrying it around in a jar!"

"I will not –" He spat, but Robb had waved his hand, gesturing for them to leave. Both obeyed, although one obviously did it against his own will.

As the door slammed shut loudly, I fixed my glare on him.

"Are you insane?" he hissed thickly, in the same moment I boomed: "How dare you!"

My muscles were rigid, fists twitching between clenched and unclenched as I felt the warm blood swell through the small gashes. Without any warning, his fingers encircled my wrist, twisting my hand to get a look at the wounds. "You´re bleeding," He stated, concern in his voice replaced the confused anger.

"Impressive. You are like Varys with brain damage!" I spat, wringing my aching hand from his grip.

"What in seven hells is wrong with you!"

"What is wrong with me?" I placed my hand to my chest, before pointing a crooked crimson coated finger against his. "You want to slaughter my family, Robb, my family. So don´t bloody ask me what is wrong with me!"

"Your family arrested my father and crippled my brother! They deserve no other!" He tried to justify his actions, catching my forearm forcefully into a bruising clasp, leveling his rage to mine.

"What good is it to them if they cripple a boy? Huh? How dare you to accuse them of this?"

"They´re Lannisters! They need no reasons! The Kingslayer stabbed the Mad King in the back as well, so tell me, what was his reasoning? And we did find the imp´s pouch."

"Without him killing the King, your father and all of his men would have been burnt to death!"

"It seems like they are catching up in that matter. My father´s men have already been killed, how long until they kill him as well?" He asked through clenched teeth, pulling me closer and tightening his grip. The innocence in his grey-blue eyes had burst into dust, as he glared down at me intimidatingly. But I would not let him. I could not allow him to win this fight.

"This could´ve been prevented! If you´d have decided to ride south with me, I could´ve freed him. My brother is not cruel, Robb, he still plays with kittens! You would be marching against a child!"

"My brother was a child too when your uncle pushed him off the tower!"

"Ah, for the gods sake! Someone could´ve stolen that bloody pouch."

"First, my brother gets crippled, then my father arrested for treason and the Lannisters are assumed behind both! I do not think this is a coincidence."

"Do you truly think my uncle would leave evidence behind – both, you and I know he is a lot smarter than that!"

My arm hurt, but I paid it no mind. I watched as his lips parted to contour, but snapped shut again. He knew I was right, I could see it whisk over those pools of blue.

"Just because it is the easiest conclusion, does not mean it is the truth." I added, wrenching out of his slightly loosened clench.

"They killed Winterfell´s men, it can not go unpunished." He said with a throaty voice, his tone morbidly cold.

Defeated, but unbroken, I let my armor enfold me. I put the motionless mask back onto my face, a shield of blankness upon my eyes and took again a position of pride, holding my head high. I became an illusion once more, this doll the capitol created. I had my demons caged again, and would not free them ever again. I promised myself that in this moment.

"Are these your final words?" I said, my voice modulated and toneless. Looking him straight in the eye, I could sense his discomfort with my sudden coolness.

He seeked for things to say, his mouth opening and closing multiple times, before he ended this discussion with a sharp nod.

I gazed downward, finding his hands trembling at his sides, as he desperately tried to calm them by fisting them. He was doubtlessly afraid, and tried to hide it. I swallowed back the urge to comfort him, knowing that those hands struck with fear would probably bring death to my family.

Gathering the fabric of my dress in my aching hand, I looked into those blue orbs that were practically begging for help, and turned on my heels, abandoning him with his troubles mercilessly.


A blanket of black, with shining white loopholes covered the sky above Winterfell. The bells of grief rang loudly through the large castle, in honor of the great conqueror this kingdom has lost, not of the foolish king that he had been. I tried to wipe a tear away, but there was none.

I rubbed my hands against one another against the emerging cold of the night, as a servant boy with dirty blond hair appeared, dumping the remains of dinner into a grand bucket, before closing it again.

"Boy," I called from where I stood, my hand reaching into my high boot of deer leather.

His head whipped around, facing me. I tossed him a golden coin and he jumped to catch it in his small hands. "Steal me some beer, will you?"

"Yes, m´lady."


Present time

I opened my eyes with a gasp as the comforting warmth was pried from me, finding Jon´s worried grey eyes glaring at me.

"I will go and find Robb," He whispered softly, covering my trembling body with a blanket.

Whilst he turned, I quickly reached out and grabbed his gloved hand, forcing him to look back again. My thumb drew circles of the black leather, the heat radiating from it warmed my frozen fingers. I gazed up at him, an inky dark curl had fallen into his confused eyes which were focused on our joined hands.

"Thank you, Jon." I said meekly, my voice just above a faint whisper. "You´re a good friend."

A smile twitched on his lips, but it never reached his eyes. He gave my hand a comforting squeeze and left the room.

Later, when the door opened again, I thought it was Robb, but instead my handmaiden entered with a bowl of steaming water. She stripped me out of my dress and undergarments, before cleaning my skin with a cloth, leaving me some freshly baked bread with milk and honey, and closing the door behind her.

The third time the door cracked open, inviting some beaming sunlight inside, followed by a shadow with reddish locks of hair. I shrunk a little in the large bed, pulling my knees up to my chest, expecting another argument. But he remained silent, sliding out of his boots by the bedside and throwing his cloak over an empty stool. He lifted blanket and furs, and climbed in beside me.

The mattress shifted under his weight as he scooted closer to me, burying his face into my hair. Sighing, he dozed off to sleep in the position that had become familiar somehow, but now did not feel the same anymore.

His tickling breath caressing my neck irked me terribly, because it awakened longing within me. The denial of being so close to him, yet there seemed to be a mile between us, a wall that would not crumble that easily. I wished to sink back into his touch, but my pride would not allow him such satisfaction.

Soon, silent snores sounded behind me, assuring me that his tiredness had won the upper hand.

"I hate you," I said quietly, attempting to convince myself, but failing terribly.

I stared into the orange fire of the hearth, watching it suffocate the hacked wood underneath, the flames licking at the three walls surrounding it. The ringing of the bells had ended by sunrise, yet I could still hear its echoes inside my head. The daylight was muffled by the heavy curtains hanging over the windows, and the silence continued.

"I love you," I choked, my voice brittle, as the first tear soaked into the surface of my pillow.

"Oh your mouth is poison, your mouth is wine
You think your dreams are the same as mine
Oh I don't love you but I always will

Oh your hands can heal, your hands can bruise
I don't have a choice but I'd still choose you"

– Poison & Wine by The Civil Wars

A/N: I promised I would update, didn´t I?

I hoped you enjoyed this slightly longer chapter and are gracious enough to leave a REVIEW!

Just so you know, your Reviews do remind me of writing ;)

Til next time, Med.