The execution had been over for a matter of minutes before the men of the watch swarmed the hall for an unappetizing supper of slop and sour ale. The sound of clad footsteps ushered into the questionable warmth of the keep, but my own feet remained rooted deep within the snow - seemingly frozen solid, much alike the rest of this winter world.

Jon stood atop the wooden stage with a face of thunder and rain and unspoken accusation. I could not look away - even as my heart sank into the depths of my belly and the world around me fell to ash. Pitiful thoughts of fleeing into the unknown were as useless as the limbs attached to my hollow frame. Where would I go? A lamb could not not outrun a lion. And a sheep could not outsmart a wolf.

The King approached after some time; his movements rigid with the utmost restraint as he skulked down from the bloody scene behind him and into the open. Adrenaline began to pump life back into shaking legs and I took two steps back to match his arrival. The memory of the boy that once lived in the soft lines of his face had disappeared altogether. Whether it be the strain of his most recent battle or the rage of my betrayal - something had chased away the last of the kindness that had otherwise been everpresent in his stoic gaze.

"Would you like me to escort you to the hall, Ghost? Or has your appetite run dry?" Jon spoke with mild vehement in comparrison to my Lord, but I did not struggle to hear the acute edge that reached his tone. I kept my lips tightly sealed. Jon Snow would not be the man to rattle me into begging for mercy.

"The cold seems to have chased away your colour," he mused, "perhaps rest would be better suited." It seems the King was in no mood to wait for an end to my sudden onset of mutism. Instead letting a firm hand grasp my arm and making a swift departure from the elements and towards his chambers. I did not resist his hold - my movements as pliant as the water of a running stream in hopes of making it to a pool of calm.

The door slammed shut behind us and finally the anchor that was Jon's grip released me from its weight.

"Why are you here, Ghost?"

The question hung in the air between us - weighted and ugly in its impatience.

"My Lord sent me here, your Grace." It was not a lie - nor was it the whole truth. Jon's face twitched; a sign no doubt of his waining resolve.

"Why did Ramsay send you here?"

"It is not my place to question my Lord and his decisi-"

"Enough with your games!" Jon's words seared across the room like an arrow howling in the wind - pinning its target to the muddied earth below. I felt my throat tigthen anxiously as the deep boom of his voice rattled frayed nerves. Silence consumed the chambers and Jon once again ran lean fingers through the wild mane that sat atop his head. Anguish seemed to touch the lines of his face and composure washed over the chagrin that had fissured there moments ago.

"I'm sorry." He murmured, letting out a heavy sigh and lowering himself into the cushioned chair near the window. Jon looked aged beyond his years. The burden of a King seemed no light feat in the darkness of his chambers. He steadied himself and began to remove the ravaged chainmail and armour that tired him so. "I know why you are here. I just do not know if Ramsay has truly poisoned you with his tongue," his pupils narrowed questingingly, "or if the girl I once knew is still there beyond his command."

Jon's eyes flickered in the candlelight, his voice somewhat hopeful despite what he must know to be true. "The real question is," his brows knitted together with the same somber expression that had worried him in the breakfast Hall that very morning, "do you truly mean to bring me harm, Ghost?"

Alone in the darkness, beyond the burning gaze of my Lord and the vultures that swarmed the Wall, I did not know the answer. I could not speak. Not with Jon staring so earnestly into my core; his eyes shining with unspent frustration.

"Are you here to kill me?" The King's voice edged closer to a growl, the words hot and heavy as they rolled from his tongue. It seems the man's patience was dissipating through his final attempt at faux calm.

My feet faltered under pressure, moving towards the door in a sudden onset of panic. With hands fueled only by raw nerves I let deft fingers fumble with the lock that barred my path. It seems Jon had anticipated my cowardice. I heard the faint hiss of the cushion as his weight rose from the seat - sending me into a frenzy. I rattled the handle vigorously in hopes of somehow overpowering the metal bolt and breaking free. It was only when two arms swooped from either side and planted themselves against the woodwork that my shambles came to a bitter end. Jon stood like an iron cage around my frame and I hugged closer to the door, desperate to escape the heat that emitted from him as he pressed ever closer. The movement was not aggressive, but Ramsay had coated many assaults in a tender embrace. I would be foolish to think better of Jon - King or not. My heartrate stuttered to a stop as his hands swallowed up my own, fastening me into place as he leaned further towards pricked ears. I did not know whether his actions were to intimidate or reassure me as I whimpered in defeat; finally going still within his fortress. The world fell away. I could hear nothing but the steady exhale of his lungs as he whispered to me in the quiet.

"Are you going to kill me?"

I let my head bump against the oak and swallowed back the bile that threatened to spill from my lips. Already worried nails dug deeper into the splintering door, but Jon only interlocked his fingers and squeezed. I tensed systematically - bracing myself for the familiar crack of bone. Instead my flinch was embarassingly undeserving - the King merely ran his thumb in soothing circles across a fading scar that lined protruding knuckles. Perhaps Jon would not touch me so delicately if he knew how that scar had come to be. It served as an unwanted reminder of Allys and her silent screams - a bitter memorabilia of the way my fists had knocked her pretty white teeth to the back of her skull. During the calamity I had not noticed the small canine that burrowed itself beneath my skin. Ramsay had been the one to pluck it from within the wound; giddy with pride as he sucked the blood from the incisor and rolled his eyes back in delight. I could still feel the scratch as Ramsay took that tooth and shoved it down my throat just for the thrill. I swear to the God's it still carved her name within when she screamed for me on the bad nights.

I did not deserve the gentle ways of the King. I was no less a monster than Ramsay himself. Proven tenfold by the now seemingly incredulous intention of coming here to slaughter innocent men on his behalf. I shuddered and thought long and hard about the frightful fury that would meet my end if he found out I had failed him once more. Not that I had failed him yet. Redemption could still be won. Jon Snow could never care for a creature like me. Nor would the gentle man ever understand why I had done such terrible things in the hopes of never returning to the hole in the Wall. He could never know that without Ramsay I was nothing.

I gritted my teeth and spun around blindly in his arms, jumping at him like a banshee in the night. Instinctively my hands darted for his face and I became nothing more than a fit of rage and desperation -tooth and nail tearing flesh as he wrestled to release himself from the tight lock of my legs around his waist. A dagger sat invitingly at the King's hip and my talons that had thus far been raking at his face found the grip of the blade with ease even amonst our struggle. Jon grunted as he was disarmed, and worry set in a his hands gripped my hips with a painful amount of pressure and strength that he had not exerted before whilst handling me.

"Don't do this." Jon looked straight at me then, his eyes wild with fever and fury as he slammed his body forward against the door, knocking every inch of air from my lungs as he did so. I dropped my hands to brace myself against his shoulders, struggling to do anything other than stare back at him as the fire in his eyes touched my own. My sudden falter did not go unnoticed by the soldier that towered above. Jon braced himself and shunned forward once more, this time slamming my hand between an armoured shoulder and the brickwork behind. I cried out and let the blade drop from now searing fingertips. Hindsight indicated this was not a smart move. The here and now also indicated an error in judgement. I attempted to release my legs from his waist, shaking hands now pushed tight against his chest. Whatever hopes of escaping had consumed me were stamped out with a vicelike grip that now fastened his hands to my thighs. Jon stood with all the calm and composure that usually held him together. Which absolutely infuriated me. How dare he stand there in all of his self righteous glory knowing I would die no matter what the outcome of this pathetic attack might be. It was his fault I was here in the first place. It was his fault Ramsay had locked me in a cell for so many moons. It was his fault Ramsay had beat me so often in the depths of his despair after their first battle. Jon was the enemy. Jon was the monster. Jon Snow was a damned bastard.

I beat blindly at his chest and tried to rip myself away from his hold. Jon stood soundlessly as my rage welled up and spilled over into the room; taking the full force of my explosion like a dam catching the rippling waves of a wild tsunami. As the fever swelled between us and my stamina washed away I felt his hand clasp my cheeks, raising my chin to meet his gaze. I screwed my eyes shut and tried to pull away, but Jon kept our gaze steady; both firm and gentle even in this moment. Always so kind. I could not find the strength to fight it. I let my head butt gently against his own in a silent defeat. His hands relaxed from my hips, snaking underneath both legs to hold me in the darkness.

"You should kill me." I murmured.

"No. I should not." I felt the rumble of his chest as he sighed against my cheek, a stray hand running across my back in an attempt to soothe the sadness.

"I would have killed you."

"Would you like to try again?"

"Maybe in the morning." I retorted.

Together we laughed away some of the tension. I watched his face relax as the sound fell from between his lips. I caught the way his eyes fell across my face and touched my cheek gently with his nose, inviting him closer. Jon turned his face to match the gesture, his lips hovering inches from my own. The spark that ignited between us in that moment became as overpowering as the blinding sun on a summer's day. I could feel the rush of heat between our skin; the collision of it turning from a steady hum to crackling static as we froze in time. Jon's pupils dilated and my heart raced in anticipation.

"Promise you'll wait 'til the morning?" He whispered, his hand entwining in a bunch of my hair, keeping my face locked into place.

"I promi-"

The words were cut off. Jon surged forward and in that moment the King had me surrender to his will. A kiss like no other - filled with bittersweet longing and a lingering spite that rose from the ashes of our waining bloodlust.

I felt every inch of his powerful frame both solidify and crumble as my legs squeezed around his already grinding hips. It seems the King's composure could not reach his carnal impulses. A guttural moan was sighed between parted lips and I felt his pressing need between my legs. Hot and wanting and impatient as it thrust against the fabric that restricted us in our passion. Together we sank into the furs that lined the floor; not once coming up for air as hungry lips traced the lines of each other's stark skin and bone. I could taste the battle that had commenced beyond the wall. The blood and sweat and heavy cologne of a man of war that ensnared my senses into a blinding want. Jon's breathing became ragged; the warm smoke fumed from between his lips as he traced his tongue across scarred skin. The clothing that once confined our burning bodies lay ravaged in the chambers and even through the heat of our embrace the King still stopped as he towered above my naked body.

"Are you sure you want this?" He asked.

I could not find the words in that moment to speak. I could not believe the beauty of a man so burdened by honour and war. So kind and gentle even in his desires. So good.

I reached for his face and my fingers found the soft tangles of hair that fell across his cheeks; with that being my only anchor in this frightful new world I rose to let his lips meet my own. Jon melted away above me and the King, with all his duty and care, became nothing more than a man. A damned good man at that.

I pushed my hips down to meet his measured thrust and together we let go of the world.

I fell into a state of need and bliss and wanted to stay this way forever with him. In a loss of my inhibitions I begged the King to take me. His arms became sure and steady and snaked beneath my head, cradling me in a tender embrace as we moved together beneath the candlelight. I let my lips rest against the warm skin that coated the crook of his neck and kissed away any and all of his uncertainty, breathing him in holding on for my dignity as his body began to wreck my own. Between heavy moans and ungodly groans we climaxed together with the same passion of newly weds under a rising sun. The stars that had formed behind my eyes mere moments ago faded away and in the calm of our aftermath I dared to take a peak at the man that still hovered above my shaking body. A haze of euphoria still blurred my vision but the King was already staring down at me with a clear eye and apprehensive expression.

"Was that okay?" He murmured softly, his fingers tracing my brow in a dazed caress. There he was again. That dutiful King ever concerned for my wellbeing. I couldn't contain my amusement at the endearing question. A laugh falling from between breathless lips against his chin. Still he marvelled down at me as if waiting for a response. I rose my hand up and stroked back the mane that threatened to swallow up his handsome face.

"That was wonderful, Jon." I smiled. "I'm almost happy I didn't kill you."

Between ragged breathes and a moments pause a smile bursting with pride rose between his cheeks, filling them with a joy that had not touched them prior to this very moment.

"You called me Jon." He grinned.

My eyebrows lifted in surprise. It seems post orgasm it was easy to forget your manners.

"I didn't me-"

"Say it again." He commanded, his features growing beautifully dark. I paused, both elated and reeling in the tension that surged between us once more. With a surrendering smile I ran my tongue across my lips, excited for what was to come.

"Jon." I purred.

Together we fell back into bliss.