A/N: So a lot of stuff happened in my life. Lost a family member and came face to face with my demons. Writing was not what I needed or wanted. I apologize for the long wait as it isn't fair to y'all who have been always so understanding and supportive. I'm sorry this took so long. I hope it somewhat makes up for the months I was gone. I just...I just needed time for myself and family.

I did upload this story to AO3 as well and due to that, I will be editing some things. I reread stuff and wasn't happy. So expect some changes in the near future. Happy 2020 and hope y'all have a great day

-peppermint

Disclaimer: I could only wish I owned GOT. Season 8 would've been a season 9 and 10.

Amirina laid quietly in her bed, a tired sadness dripping over her still and aching body.

She had fallen ill. Again.

Again, a fever had taken over her chilled body and her shoulder was burning, burning deeply and harshly through her flesh. No amount of chill from the outside or from her own body trying to reverse the heat taking her, could quell the raging fire biting at her skin. A discomfort she could not merely rub away was plaguing her from within, like a terrible worm riveting it's way through her organs and bones. She wanted death.

"Rina?" a quiet and concerned voice lazily broke through her daze.

"Jon?" she croaked, her throat burning hotter than the Dornish sands in the height of the day.

"It's me, Rina." She turned her head slightly, her skull pounding in a defiant protest. "It's Robb, your cousin?"

A wave of disappointment rode itself out through her. Jon wasn't there. "Where's Jon?"

She could barely hear the sigh that left Robb's lips. "Jon's headin' to the wall, Rina. He's goin' to take the Black."

"When will he be back?"

"Soon."

Robb rubbed a hand over his exhausted features. He couldn't count how many times he had gone through that exact conversation with Amirina. It had to be well over ten now, with this most recent attempt. She was fading fast, and between her and Bran, Robb was beginning to feel himself become stretched extremely thin. At least, however, his mother was attentive to Bran at the moment and for the past few hours. Robb had been trading off with Theon to watch Amirina as Luwin had commanded them.

Luwin believed she had contracted a sweating sickness, similar somewhat to what she had had a few years past. It wasn't uncommon, he said, for those who had had it to go through it a few more times in their lives. However, each time brought more issues and a higher risk of death than the last. And despite his worry for Bran, he felt a deeper worry for his cousin. Bran was going to live no matter what. Amirina? They had to ensure she was properly cared for for her to see the next light.

"'ow is she?" Theon asked, his voice just as tired as Robb was feeling. Their job was to keep her awake by any means. Once she passed the day, they could allow her to rest. Or so Luwin had said so. She was at her highest risk of death at the moment.

"She asked about Jon again," Robb replied, resting his elbows on his knees. "Ten times I believe."

"They were close," Theon shrugged, leaning against the doorframe he had quietly entered through. "She's got fever. It turns yer brain to shit."

"Aye," Robb confirmed, the worry still plaguing him.

"C'mon Robb, go to Lady Cat. Luwin don't want us round 'er too long," Theon nudged Robb vocally, placing a hand on his shoulder to stir him into movement. It was true. Luwin didn't want them with her too long. It was why they were doing shifts, like those of guards of a keep. An hour at most and then switch. Keep switching for twelve hours and then Luwin would take over. He was busy trying to get a paste made again and looking for different supplements to ensure she would live.

Robb patted his best friend's hand and stood from his chair, pressing up with his hands on his knees to push his body up. He quietly walked over to Rina's bedside and his river blue eyes stared at her sickly pallor with a great concern and adoration. Amirina meant a lifetime to him. She was good, kind, loving, well put together. She was family. Robb had lost enough family the past day, he didn't need to lose more. It reminded him, he needed to write his father to inform him of Amirina's illness. A quiet part of him wished it would change his father's mind on his journey.

His cousin's eyes were dull, almost lifeless except for the faintest glimmer as they stared with no intention at the wall behind Robb. There was a small tapestry hanging from that side and he hoped she was currently memorizing the stitching just so she may make a jest of it later. But Robb knew better. The fever was forcing her mind to retreat to the furthest part of her body; it wanted to slink away from that heat and destruction, and it showed in her oak eyes.

"Stay awake, aye? Can't have my cousin die whilst I'm lord," Robb jested, wanting to reach out and stroke her sweat-matted hair. She seemed so far gone at the moment, but Robb knew she was awake. Her fingers were moving and her body shifted unconsciously. So he knew she was still there, but she just...wasn't.

He stepped away from her bedside with a sigh, knowing better than to touch her at all. He wanted more than anything to hug his cousin until the sickness was no more. But all that would accomplish was successfully risking his own health. And as the interim Lord of Winterfell, Robb knew that wouldn't look fantastic for himself, his family and his father.

"I've got 'er, Robb," Theon spoke quietly, his tone distinctly different than it usually was. But Robb knew why. Amirina was a part of the family. So was Theon. Sure he would make crude and often unnecessary jokes, but Amirina was as much as cousin to him as Robb was a brother. Sure, Theon was a kraken by birth, but he was a Stark by love in Robb's eyes.

"Thank you, Theon," Robb replied, shooting his friend a small yet distraught smile. "Send someone for me when it is time."

"Aye," Theon confirmed, waving his hand so Robb could understand to finally leave.

The young lord nodded his head and headed towards his cousin's door, opening it to the somewhat cold and dark hallway. As he was about to close the wooden portal, his ears picked up a few words from Theon as he began his metaphorical watch.

"Aye, now that that's settled, ya and I can finally get our alone time. I always knew ya loved me, Rina..."

Robb couldn't help the chortle that escaped him. He now had a fairly good idea of how Theon filled the hour. He knew Amirina would find it entertaining once she stirred from her fever.

Robb then gulped harshly. IF she stirred from her fever. But he had to shake his head at his own poor thoughts. Amirina was strong. She had beaten the sickness once, birthed a child and she would beat the sickness again. It was in her nature as a Stark and Martell. She would be okay.

Strolling down the halls towards Bran's room where his mother was holed up, Robb began to ponder to himself about various things. For one, he needed to get his mother back. Catelyn Stark had become a shell of someone she used to be. Rickon was suffering greatly due to it. So was Robb. He needed his mother back. He craved her advice and assistance, especially at a time like this. Luwin had said he was doing well already, but Robb knew it had not been long enough. A day. A day and he already had the coffers to balance and his cousin potentially knocking upon the door of death, risking his own health just so she was never alone. It was already growing to be far too much.

That reminded him. He needed to write Amirina's father, his uncle Oberyn, and inform him of her troubles. Hopefully, she would be able to write him of her health after.

Robb reached Bran's room, noticing the door was already cracked open.

"I don't care about appointments!" his mother cried out in exasperation, her voice shaken with grief. Robb couldn't help but sigh in minor disappointment. She was being controlled by Bran's health, despite Luwin having said he'd be okay. He'd live.

At that moment, Robb chose to enter the room. "I'll make the appointments." His Tully blue eyes made direct contact with Luwin's aging and concerned hazel orbs. "We'll talk about it first thing in the morning." It was easier to just end the conversation before his mother grew too agitated with the old maester, something that Robb noticed had become increasingly common.

Luwin gave Robb a soft smile and nodded his head. "Very good, my lord."

Robb watched as Luwin's eyes trailed over to Catelyn and Robb followed suit towards his mother. Her head was pointed downwards at whatever next creation she was so hellbent on creating to save Bran's life. Robb followed the Old Gods like his father, yet he knew enough about the new through his mother. It was probably another thing for her to pray to the Mother with and he didn't fault her for it.

"My lady," Luwin bowed his head respectfully and began to walk out. But before he could fully leave, Robb had to catch him first.

"Maester Luwin," he commanded softly, needing for the older man to at least calm his mind a little. "Amirina. She's unable to understand-"

"Where she is or what's happening, yes," Luwin cut him off, his eyebrows furrowing as Robb saw the thoughts begin to unravel in his mind. "It is the fever, my lord. I have the paste ready for her. I shall give it to her later this eve after she has calmed slightly."

"Thank you Maester Luwin," Robb dipped his head lightly. What Luwin said made enough sense to the young lord. It eased the ache in his heart enough.

Luwin pressed a hand to Robb's shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. "Do not fret, my lord. She has passed the hardest time. She has Stark blood and you Starks are hard to get rid of," he soothed peacefully, a small tip of the corner of his lips lifting. Robb shared the motion and spared the man a quick and quiet 'thank you', letting the man go on his way.

The door shut quietly behind Robb and he then turned to his mother. A soft rage filled his belly but he knew better. She was absolutely shattered, he could understand. His father was gone. His sisters were gone. Bran was yet to wake. Everything had changed, and not necessarily for the better. But Robb knew that despite those things, she was still a mother and still had two other sons to watch: he and Rickon. Rickon was always so confused and hurt and he cried so much already. At least when his father was there, Rickon could go to him. But now? Rickon had not had his mother in weeks. It needed to stop.

He took a deep breath and walked over to the window, opening it to allow the cold and crisp air in. The wolves were barking and howling into the night, something that brought a small smile to his bearding features. But it quickly diminished when he thought back to his mother.

"When was the last time you left this room?" he questioned, ensuring his words were stern.

Robb turned his head towards the sad woman who seemed more like a shell than a mother. Her voice broke with each word she spoke. "I have to take care of him."

Barking began to take up a small space in Robb's ears

That was the issue, Robb silently heaved. Bran would be OKAY. Yet his own mother was not. "He's not going to die, mother. Maester Luwin says that the most dangerous time has passed."

"What if he's wrong? Bran needs me."

The wolves' howls seemed to grow in intensity.

Bran? The boy who laid in his bed, who never moved, who never spoke or ate or drank unless Maester Luwin or even Amirina did so? That boy? What about..."Rickon needs you," he said a bit too harshly.

"He's six. He doesn't know what's happening. He was following me around all day when I wasn't watching Amirina, who is currently ill with sweating sickness and may die, clutching my leg, crying-"

The howling and barking was at their highest, a pitch Robb had never heard before.

"Close the windows!" his mother broke, her voice hoarse and tired. "I can't stand it. Please make them stop."

Robb turned his head quickly towards the window, his brain buzzing as to the curiosity of why the wolves were so oddly loud this eve. They had never been this loud before.

His stomach dropped.

There, out the view of the window, was fire burning in his eyes. The smoke was bright against the nearly clear black sky. He could see the sparks jumping up into the air from the bright red and orange flames that licked the top of the tower outside across the field.

"Fire." It was all he could manage. The pit in his stomach was roiling up and he wasn't sure how to proceed. A fire. They never had those. Not on that side of the field.

He turned to his mother for a brief moment, taking in her awe-confused expression. "You stay here. I'll be right back."

It was then that Robb took off in a dead sprint out of Bran's room. His mother would be fine, as would Bran. Amirina would also be safe. Theon too. The flames were far away, no one in this part of the keep would be in danger.

He felt his feet carry him down the nearest staircase. Nothing ran through his mind. Nothing at all. His vision was hazed and all that replayed before him was the image of the flames licking at the far tower's hatch. He had to go help. He was Lord of Winterfell, it was his duty.

But all of that stopped when he felt something knock into his legs. Barely having a second to catch himself, Robb looked down to see Summer dashing up the stairs. Summer? Robb had sworn the dire wolf was kenneled with the rest of them. Well, Greywind was in Robb's chambers, but Summer and Shaggydog were kenneled due to the boys not being old enough to truly care for them. Why was Summer out?

A part of him questioned if it was because the fire was in the tower near the kennels and someone had let them out for their own safety. But something didn't sit right with Robb Stark in that moment. His gut pulled for him to return to his brother's chambers at that moment. It took everything in him to look back down the few last steps he had and to turn back to the upper levels to his brother, dashing up in pure curiosity and dread from his belly.

His leathered feet carried him back up the stairs he had just traveled down. His heart rattled against its bone cage as he ran back. His gut stirred like a hurricane thrashing against the coastline and he began to feel nauseous, as if seasick from many a days travel.

Robb's ears picked up the sounds before his eyes laid upon the sight. The sound of screaming, a male scream of pure horror and pain. A sound Robb had never heard in his life. Even at the deserter's beheading, the man had never made a sound except for his quiet whimpers due to his pain of oncoming death. This...this was a flesh squelching, blood spraying, bone crunching pain.

Robb felt his feet stop abruptly as he grabbed onto the door frame to his younger brother's room. His Tully eyes immediately landed on his sleeping brother, not a hair out of place from his unmoving visage. Summer was laying across his still legs under his furs, the direwolf slightly panting and whining from the situation he had heard. His eyes then drifted downwards, widening at the messy and bloody now-corpse on the stone floor. Blood trickled through the grout that connected the polished grey stones together. Robb wondered for a moment if the beheading was far cleaner and kinder than the fate that befell the...man.

"Robb," a quiet voice croaked, snapping the mentioned man from his stupor.

He snapped his neck towards the source and he rushed to the foot of the bed, his mother's upper half supported by her elbows on the furs. Her normally done up hair was frayed and wild, her hands covered in blood (whose? He wasn't sure yet), her chest heaving up and down as if to remind herself to take deep breaths, and her eyes. His heart broke at her river blue eyes. They held fear, relief, a torrent of waves of emotions and he wasn't sure how to help. He scrambled to her side, his arms encircling her tightly as he kept his eyes away from the bloody mess near his feet. He could feel his mother trembling, breathing in sharply to avoid crying. But he knew her eyes were bright from the tears that were threatening to leave in long trails across her cheeks. But she never let them.

As Robb held his mother, she quietly looked down at the man who had tried to...kill her Bran. Her boy. A cripple. A boy who never fell when he climbed. A boy who nearly died. Her son. Catelyn Stark felt her burning eyes narrow on the man. He was there to ensure her son never talked. About what, she was unsure. But there was a reason he had fallen. There was a reason the grimy man held a Valyrian steel dagger, one of fine craftsmanship. Catelyn Stark would figure it out, even if it was the death of her.

Jon stared at Amirina, a wide smile upon her lips. Her teeth shone in the sunlight leaking through the trees. A twinkle of pure joy illuminated the Martell's oak eyes and he couldn't help but feel it reflect in his own. She seemed so happy. So in the moment that nothing else mattered. The time from when he had stopped talking to her after acting like an insolent child to the time he saw her again, free of her husband, had swept past him like a whirlwind. He knew it had been nearly 10 moons of time and he knew he had lost so much time with her. So many memories he could have made. But here? Those 10 moons seemed inconsequential.

"Would you like to spar again? We haven't done that in some time," Amirina questioned, her orbs mischievous as a tease laced her words.

Jon couldn't help the smile that penetrated his stoic features. "Will I win again?"

Amirina shrugged. "Depends on if you won't get distracted."

Distracted? Jon raised an eyebrow at the insinuation. He wouldn't be...distracted by her. She was his cousin. She was blood. She was just as much Stark as he. He couldn't be distracted by her...even if she was beautiful and kind. Jon swallowed hard, the nagging at his heart and mind had returned, alongside the whispering in his ear.

Suddenly, he felt a weight in his hand. Looking down, he realized it was a sword. He wasn't quite sure how it got there but it was in his hand. It didn't seem like a training sword, however, it truly seemed like an actual sword, akin to the one he swore he had on his hip.

"Rina?" he questioned. He wanted to ask her why they were sparring with actual weapons but he was cut short by the feeling of a very real spearhead placing pressure on his throat. Stormy grey eyes met with oak brown and that same glint from earlier sparkled even brighter.

"You're going to the Wall, Snow," she stated matter-of-factly. "You need to prepare with real steel."

He was going to the Wall, wasn't he? Gods why was he doing that again? Why wasn't he staying in Winterfell with Robb, Bran, Rickon...Amirina? Why was he leaving them all?

His thoughts left him immediately as he reached his sword up to block Amirina's double spear-ended staff. She had raised it as if to chop his head off from the front and began to swing it down quickly, barely giving Jon enough time to block her attack. The clang of the weapons rang in his ears, a ringing blocking over the whispers. Was this real? He had to wonder. His forearms trembled underneath the forced weight of Amirina's strength and he couldn't help but question if he was truly back in Winterfell or not.

Jon spun out, away from Amirina's staff until he was facing her. The sword definitely didn't feel like his own, a bit too heavy and off balance for his likes, but he knew he could still gain the upper hand with Amirina. She hadn't sparred for months.

Jon swung the sword from his bottom right, hoping to catch Amirina low with her staff. She'd have to balance out again but he wouldn't. But instead, Amirina spun her staff to knock Jon's sword away from her and then pushed it tight against her side. Her balance stayed.

"When'd you learn that?" Jon questioned, readjusting his grip which had slackened just the smallest bit.

"You taught me it. Remember?" Amirina then went to move to the offensive, her dark curls waving wildly in the air and catching the sun's rays in the lighter strands.

Jon was once again forced to block, a grunt escaping his as he grasped the hilt with both hands to block his left side. He'd rather not feel the sting of metal piercing his torso. Not right now.

"I don't remember teaching you anything before you left," he muttered, forcing Amirina's staff back and working to get her opposite side.

Amirina easily parried his attempts, continuing to throw him off balance yet her never taking a step to readjust. It was beginning to piss him off. When had she ever gotten to be this balanced? Jon knew Amirina's fighting style. This wasn't her's. Even with her staff to balance her out, she was always too far forward or to her right. She should've gone off balance by now.

"I never left, Jon," Amirina claimed, her words coming out confused. But hadn't she? "I've been here the whole time. With you."

Jon shook his head. He swore she had left for the Last Hearth with her husband. She returned once, she had been two moons with child. That was two moons after she left. He didn't see her for another six moons. Ten moons in total. He remembered the medallion necklace she had made for him and Robb. She gave it to him near the Weirwood tree. He finally apologized. They wrote letters. So many letters. Each time he wrote a letter, the whispering grew louder and louder. The nagging at his heart and mind grew stronger. He dreamt of her a few times. Yes, he remembered that. Not the exact dreams, no. But he knew he woke up in the middle of the eves, his body covered in sweat and Amirina's name on his lips. She was always there. Especially after she had made that visit when with child. Gods, it had to be now, almost a full year since she left. But did she leave? Did she leave like he wanted her to at first?

"No."

Her words were quiet and close. So close, Jon looked up and realized she was right in front of him. The air between them was merely shared and exchanged so they could breathe. "I never left you, Jon Snow," she nearly whispered.

The whispers in his ears began to scream.

"You didn't want to let me go." The sword was long forgotten and her staff was gone.

"Why do you keep telling yourself no?" Amirina questioned, her words flowing from her lips like the clearest river Jon had ever seen. He couldn't describe it but he could see her words. See the truth behind them, the purity within them. He didn't want to let her go. And gods would he always tell himself that it was because she was his cousin. His best friend. She was like a sister to him! Or maybe he just kept feeding himself that line so he could ignore it. The whispers, the gnawing. He always told himself the reasons why he had them. Why he felt pure rage at learning of her betrothal, the ugly head of jealousy rearing when he saw her with Robb or with her husband, the fire that ran through him for that brief moment when they sparred and she had been straddling his torso with her spear pointed towards his chest, the fire when he glanced one small accidental peak at her body when she was in the bath. When he had seen her on her name day, the blue of the Stark household covering her body in a dress that accentuated every feature of her. Moments when he'd look at her and see every small mark upon her cheeks or the flecks of blue and gold in her oak eyes that would sometimes look hazel in the warmth of light.

Jon realized Amirina was right there, right in front of him. A small smile was gracing her lips as her low eyes drifted towards his. For a moment, Jon felt that paralyzing emotion he couldn't name. When he looked at her so closely, he couldn't help but let it take over him. His chest began to hammer violently as Amirina took another step closer to him, pressing against him like she would in a hug. His breath ceased when she placed a rough hand upon his cheek. The air between them was purely shared now and he felt his vision begin to darken as his lids began to close. Maybe this once, maybe...

"Wake up Jon..."

Jon stirred immediately, his chest heaving and his flesh covered like that of a chicken. The chill of the northern wind bit at him as he felt a bit of moisture accumulating on his brow. His heart was wild against his ribs and he could only breathe to hope for it to calm. The dream fell away from his memory quickly but the feeling stayed. It had felt...real. It was too vivid. Too close. Too much to not be real. For a moment, Jon could smell the earth that he had stood on briefly. The lavender that now followed Amirina everywhere she went after her fever. The smell of lavender followed Jon when he thought of her. It had been all he could smell those days when sitting by her bedside. And now, for a fleeting moment, he could smell it.

Breathing in deeply, Jon closed his eyes and felt his heart begin to calm. The air began to return to his nose as how he knew it. The smell of horses and men and the forest around them. It was what he knew. He wasn't sure of what he had dreamt of, but he knew it was of his cousin. And he was sure he didn't want to know. He thought for a second that if he did know, he'd turn back to Winterfell to be by her side again. But that wouldn't do. No. He was leaving for a reason. He would no longer be just a bastard. He would be a brother of the Night's Watch. He would become a crow like his uncle and some ancestors before him. He would serve the realm. He would merely be Jon. No longer just Ned Stark's bastard.

Maybe it meant he left everything he knew and loved. Maybe it meant he left his family. Maybe it meant he left his best friend and the girl he had grown to be so fond of (in ways his mind would not let him accept at the moment). Maybe it meant a lot of things. Maybe it didn't. But Jon Snow was sure of one thing. He was going to become a brother no matter what. No one could change his mind about that. And as he stroked behind Ghost's perked ears, he still felt the searing upon his cheek. But again, he would become a brother of the Night's Watch.

No matter the cost.

Amirina Martell felt her eyes open to the warm world around her. It was so very warm. Unnaturally so. Not even Dorne on her hottest day felt like this.

"She's waking!" The words pierced her ears and she felt her mind begin to ring at the level of the sounds. Sounds. Sounds were rushing back. A fire crackling, somewhere close by but not right next to her. There was a depth to the room she could sense. Parts that weren't as warm as others or others that were hotter than the sun in a bright clue sky. There was shuffling around and the scrape of wood against stone. Her teeth clenched at that. Gods she hated that sound.

"Amirina?" the soft voice of a man spoke, her name quiet on his tongue. It took a moment but the Martell girl looked to her left, her eyes readjusting to sight. She wasn't gone long but her body had been ravaged by the heat within her bones and veins.

The worried yet oddly calm and aging features of Maester Luwin came into focus and Amirina felt her lips fall into a lazy smile. "Maester Luwin," she felt the words tumble off of her lips. They may have sounded slurred or not, she couldn't tell for sure. For some reason, a tired ache was setting over her again. Maybe she should just let her eyes-

"Come now, Amirina," he whispered, resting his hand on her covered shoulder, "fall not to sleep. Not yet."

Amirina nodded, or well her chin dipped up and down. She was just so tired and everything was so warm. She just wanted a cold bath. She wanted the gown off of her body, which she knew was like a second skin at the moment. She could feel the moisture clinging to her. It made her writhe in discomfort.

"Her fever has finally broken. One of you boys fetch a cloth and cool water. She'll want to cool down," Luwin commanded the apparent boys. Amirina didn't really care. All she wanted was for the damned furs to be off of her body.

"Furs," she mumbled, adjusting her tired and weak body to give a hint. Luwin caught on and helped peel back one of the furs. He said something about not too much but Amirina wasn't sure why. One was enough for now she supposed. It was already leagues better.

As she felt a cool cloth begin to wipe across her forehead, her mind began to clear. It was like a fog was not too glaringly painful for her to see through. Now it was there but a little less dense and full. It allowed for her to remember somewhat of what she was dreaming.

She had dreamt of Jon Snow and lavender. It had been good. She had not wanted to leave it. For a moment, she wondered if he had been the one caring for her with Luwin like he did those moons past. And for a moment, she wondered if he ever dreamt of her too.

A/N: Hope y'all enjoyed this chapter, even though its not as long as the previous ones. More will be revealed soon. Can't wait!

Carolus. Magnus81 - Thank you for the warm review. I hope you've kept up so far. I enjoyed your idea! It's really interesting and even if you think you're not good at writing doesn't mean you're not. I think you should give it a shot and I'd love to read that kind of fic! Thank you and hope you're still here!

nessiesmith2012 - I'm sorry you think it became cliche. I'm not sure how it did by the second chapter but I respect your opinion and hope you ended up giving it a chance. Thank you.