Ned found himself remembering of her as he lay beneath the trunk of the weirwood tree. The sleek dark hair as black as the midnight skies. Her beautiful eyes that looked like blossoming violets.

When he had heard word of her death, Ned had wept in private. He was married to Catelyn Tully. She had given him a son. He couldn't be seen grieving for another woman. He loved Cat. She was a wonderful woman. But there would always be a small piece of him that Ashara would hold. He had first met her at the Tourney of Harranhal. She'd been the most beautiful woman there, with her dark hair and her piercing violet eyes.

She'd danced with him that night. He'd been shy and unsure and awkward. She just laughed and told him he was a good dancer."Honor is a cold companion, Lord Ned," she had teased him later, the corner of her lips slightly curved upwards, "It's a woman's touch, a woman's kiss that keeps a man warm. I've always assumed you Northerners are appreciative of warmth." Her eyes, her lips, her pose, all radiated her mischievous nature and her unparalleled beauty.

They'd gone riding and watched the tourney. While they were riding together, their lips had gently embraced one another by the fourth day of the tourney. They had stopped for a rest and had tied the horses to trees. They'd been looking at the landscape, and Ashara had commented on how beautiful the land was, despite the horrible stories surrounding Harranhal. Ned had thought that she was the most beautiful thing there. And somehow, their lips had met and they had been kissing one another. Their hands began to roam around, touching and gently passing through each others bodies. They had become so entranced in that moment and didn't notice that their clothes had been removed, but then proceeded. He had not bedded as many woman as Robert but he was so amazed as to how perfect they fit in one another's bodies. And in his love-struck state, had promised to marry her, once his sister married Robert. Her smile somehow shined brighter.

It was a vow he would break some months later. Lyanna went missing, Brandon rode to King's Landing, he and Father died, and before Ned knew it, he was marching off to war with Robert. They'd needed the Riverlands, and Hoster Tully had only agreed to it if Ned would marry his eldest daughter, Catelyn, and his other daughter, Lysa, was married to Jon Arryn's son and heir; Denys Arryn the Darling of the Vale

All throughout his wedding night, Ned had thought about how wrong it was. Ashara should have been his bride, not Catelyn. Catelyn was beautiful and kind and lovely, but she was not Ashara. She was not Ned's love.

If things had been different - if Lyanna had not been taken - then Ned would have married Ashara. He would have done all he could to make get his father to agree. He would have ridden all the way to Starfall if that's what it took. But this was the way things were and now only Benjen remained of all those he had once loved.

Ned's heart clenched at the memory, guilt tearing at its strings.

"You seem rather distracted, Jon" Luwin said.

"Huh? Sorry. It's nothing. Please, let's continue with the lesson"

"Alright then, Robb. Can you try this one?" Luwin said, pointing to a part of the map.

"House Bracken. Sworn to House Tully. Their seat is Stone Hedge. Sigil: A red stallion on gold. On Thundering Hooves"

"Theon?"

"House Harlaw of Harlaw Hall. Sigil: a silver scythe on black. Reap the Dawn"

"Excellent. Jojen?"

"House Umber of Last Hearth. Sigil: a roaring giant with shattered chains on red-orange. Restrained then Released"

"Jon. Tricky one."

"House Volmark of Volmark. Sigil: a leviathan. On Water's Hand"

"Robb. Try ... this one"

"House Redwyne of the Arbor. Sigil: a cluster of grapes on azure. Ripe for Victory"

"Jon. I know its your ambition to be a hedge knight of sorts. So, try this one"

He pointed to a part of Dorne. Had Maester Luwin known?

"House Uller of Hellholt. Sigil: per fess rayonny. Abandon all Hope"

Luwin then began to point to other regions; hoping that he did not abandon his studies at the very least.

"House Tarly of Horn Hill. Sigil: a striding huntsman on green. First in Battle"

"House Glover of Deepwood Motte. Sigil: a silver gauntlet. With an Iron Fist"

"House ... Dayne of ... Starfall. Sigil: white sword and falling star crossed on lilac. Fallen and Reborn."

"Good. A good swordsman should keep his mind sharp as well as his sword. Well, I think that's enough of lessons. Go on, now"

Theon then gave a light shove with a slight of his shoulder, muttering something under his breath. Jon found himself thinking of Dorne. In many ways, the Dornishmen and Cranngomen had a lot in common. Both peoples used different methods of fighting. Both deemed cowardly. He had asked Harwin about her; if his father had indeed loved her. He simply replied that there may have been some kisses and some sweet words between them. But he could not truly say anything. Perhaps Maester Luwin knew something of her.

"Maester Luwin. May I please speak with you? I need to ask something"

"Of course, Jon, my boy"

"D-Did, um, did you know ab-about ..."

"You wish to know more about the Daynes?"

Jon felt his face redden. "What gave me away?"

"The way you seemed to stare in awe when I pointed to Starfall. When I was training in the citadel, I knew of many young boys who wished they could be sent to Starfall. To at the very least, glance at Dawn."

"I heard about it. Is it true that it was forged from a falling star?"

"I ... am not sure about that my boy. But I do know that the first Dayne had followed a falling star until it fell unto the place where Starfall would later be erected in."

"Amazing. But what I was actually trying to ask is, uh, well ..."

"Ashara Dayne?"

"You knew her?" Jon said, his eyes lighting up a bit.

"No. I can't say that I knew her. I had heard several men talk about her before when I first came to serve Winterfell. But it'd be best if you talk to Lord Eddard about it."

Jon knelt beneath the solemn-faced weirwood tree. He had once tried to pray in the small sept but could not do so. It felt so ... false.

He felt so peaceful. Content. He may not know what blood his mother had, but he undoubtedly knew that he had the blood of the First Men coursing through his veins.

He than began to drift into sleep, and dream. His dream had been full of sea cliffs that night, of bright red sands and crashing waves, of a beautiful woman with a queen's beauty, a gray-eyed babe at her breast, and his father gazing upon them both with abject adoration.

"Jon"

"Jon!"

"JON!"

He had awoken to the voice and face of Meera.

"Are you alright? Arya had been looking for you. She wanted to show you something"

"Huh? I'm alright, Meera. I just ... lost track of time" he said, gazing around the godswood.

"Jon. Is something wrong?"

"It's nothing. Its ... its just ..." Jon felt himself getting flustered. He could tell Meera almost anything. Why was it that he couldn't tell her this?

"Itsaboutmymtoher"

"What?" she giggled at his garbled sentence.

"Its just ... after we came back to Winterfell from Last Hearth, I heard some of the servants talk. I heard them say something about Lady Ashara Dayne. H-How she ... could be my mother"

"Oh." Meera sighed. "I think my father would have told you something more about your mother. I know that we're not your family, that the Starks are. But ... you can always think or see us ... as a family" she said.

"Howland. Lady Jyana. Jojen. Edd. You. Are and always be my family" He said, placing his hand over hers.

"Thank you, Jon. You will always be special to me. I ... never even thanked you for defending my honour from Theon. ... And Jojen's as well. You ... didn't have to"

Meera then gently rubbed a small circle on his palm. Her piercing green eyes bore into him, as she enveloped his neck in an embrace. Suddenly, she looked at him and kissed him. This kiss was wholly innocent, filled with affection if not longing or desire. Her lips tasted sweet. Jon then began to kiss her back, wanting to taste her lips; see just how soft they felt against his own. He tasted mud from the corners of her lips.

You could make a poultice out of mud to cool a fever. You could plant seeds in mud and grow a crop to feed your children. Mud would nourish you.

Suddenly, she began to pull him closer. Her back was now on the cold ground of the godswood. Before they could do anything else, Meera looked at him. She then lightly pushed herself away from him.

"I ... um, uh, I-I should go"