A/N: Hi loves! Here we are again, right on schedule. Grad school is off to an interesting start, for sure, and I can't guarantee that I'll always have time. But when I can, I'll ask Anne-Lilian to pop in and update for me. Anyway, here's your next chapter!

Margaery found Gilly right after she'd put Sam down to sleep and told her about the new room. Gilly confessed that Sam - the Night's Watchman, not the baby - had already shown it to her, and that she was glad not to be alone anymore. The girl had grown up always surrounded by her sisters, and felt alone in the keep sometimes. Margaery wanted to sympathise, but as much as she liked Gilly, she predicted she'd feel more alone once she moved out of the Lord Commander's quarters.

"Oh, and I found you a better dress," Gilly added. "I hope the size is right."

Margaery looked up as Gilly unfolded it. It was a thick, dark grey fabric, with small stitches of dark blue in hexagons throughout - probably a luxury here in the north. She could see the lighter grey fur lining coming out of the collar, long sleeves, and skirt. It was a very functional dress, and the spoiled lady in Margaery pouted just a little. "Gilly, it's perfect, thank you," she said, letting nothing of her true feelings shine through as she took the dress in her arms. It was rather pretty, and she had to remind herself that it wasn't Gilly's fault that there was no proper fashion this far north. And the dress would keep her warmer in this blasted cold.

Gilly smiled, clearly happy with her find. "That should keep you warmer than some of the ones I made; the seamstresses in Mole's Town are really very good," she said.

For the first time in a while, Margaery truly smiled. "Thank you, Gilly. For everything."

Gilly blushed. "It's nothing. Thank you for watching little Sam all afternoon, I know he can be a handful…"

"He was a dear, I loved it. I just put him down to sleep," Margaery replied. "Now, it seems I have some packing to do, so I'll retire for the night. Sleep well, Gilly."

"Course. You too, Bethany."

It wasn't very late yet, but when Margaery arrived back at the Lord Commander's quarters, she was exhausted. She'd gather her meagre belongings in the morning, at the moment, she needed to get some sleep. The moment she rested her head on her pillow, she drifted off into a fitful sleep.

/*/

Gods be good, how do they live in this abominable cold? It was the middle of the night, and Margaery was unable to sleep from shaking. She had stoked up the fire, and was currently sitting in front of it, still trembling like a leaf. It was a wonder the sound of her bones rattling together hadn't woken the whole Watch yet, despite the heavy fur around her shoulders. Jon had warned her before that the nights would be cold with all the summer snows coming in, but on this particular night, it was even colder than she'd come to expect.

"Margaery," she heard softly behind her.

She jumped, and swiftly turned around. "J-Jon," she whispered through her clattering teeth. She hadn't expected him to actually wake up; he seemed to be a heavy sleeper. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

He ignored her question and stepped closer. "Are you cold?" he asked, concern lacing his voice.

Pushing aside the small stab of irritation she felt at the question, she nodded. "The Reach doesn't normally get this…chilly," she said with a shrug.

"Of course," he said. "Here, let me…" he trailed off, and stepped closer. Margaery frowned at him. What was he doing? And then he sat down and scooted forward until she was between his legs, her back resting against his chest. She tensed up, and was fairly certain she was blushing. Unsure of what to do with her hands, she folded her arms across her chest, but even that felt slightly awkward.

Suddenly, Jon seemed to realize exactly what position they were in. "I'm sorry, my lady," he said, sounding slightly flustered. "I didn't mean to be so forward, this is just…" he trailed off, obviously at a loss for what to say.

His floundering, more than anything, put her at ease. This wasn't a man wanting to take advantage of her. In his eyes, this was probably just a practical solution; after all, her back was no longer cold now. Quite the opposite, really. She found herself comfortably warm as she gradually relaxed into the Lord Commander's chest.

Her eyes started to droop, almost against her will, but this was... so… com...for...tab...le…

/*/

When Jon's eyes opened the next morning, he knew something was different. As he slowly regained consciousness, he realized he was lying flat on his back, on the floor of his chambers. But that wasn't the half of it.

His eyes opened, and there she was - Margaery, of House Tyrell, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and widow of His Grace King Joffrey, curled up on his chest like a kitten.

Panic overtook him. Olly would be coming in soon to bring him breakfast and morning reports, and this was not something the rest of the Watch needed to hear about secondhand. Or at all. Ever.

He shifted slightly, trying to see if he could move without waking her. She sighed quietly, clearly still asleep, and nuzzled a little deeper into his chest. Gods be good, she was so beautiful, but this was the last thing he needed. He'd already broken his vows once…he didn't need any more temptation to do it again. "Margaery," he whispered.

"Mmm…" her hand slid from his chest up to his neck, underneath his furs, as her breathing deepened. He shivered, steeling himself and employing all his willpower. Don't get distracted now.

He brought a hand up to her back. "Margaery," he repeated, a little louder. He hated to wake her when she needed all the rest she could get, but he really didn't need his steward catching him on the floor with the girl currently sharing his chambers.

She frowned in her sleep, sighing, as her hand made a fist around the hair on his neck, her nails scraping over his skin. Once again, he had to keep his body from reacting to her ministrations, even if they were being done unconsciously.

"Margaery, wake up!" he hissed, shaking her shoulder a little more aggressively.

Finally, with a deep inhale, her eyes cracked open, and she squinted at him. "Jon? What is it?" she mumbled, her voice still heavy with sleep. Gods, her lips were so close. He wondered if she could feel his heart thumping in his chest.

"We need to get up," Jon replied, as calmly as he could.

For a moment, Margaery just stared at him with uncomprehending eyes. Then, he saw the realization dawn on her face as her eyes widened. "Seven hells!" she swore under her breath, rolling off his chest and onto the floor.

Jon scrambled up, blushing madly. He was glad for the heavy clothes he wore, or his body's reaction would have been clearly visible. Even so, he almost felt a need to turn his back. The awkwardness in the air was almost palpable as Margaery popped to her feet, brushing some stray hair from her face in an effort to compose herself.

"I…" Margaery said. She was breathing a little quickly - which didn't help Jon's eyes stay on hers - and her eyes were wide. "I apologise."

"You have nothing to apologise for, my lady," he responded quickly, in the most diplomatic tone he could muster.

"Right. I should…" she cleared her throat. "Good morning, Lord Commander," she said, turning on her heel and walking out.

Jon stood in place, frozen and speechless. What in seven hells had just happened? He barely even noticed when Olly opened the door, carrying an armful of scrolls. "Good morning, Lord Commander," he said, setting them down on Jon's desk, which finally got him to move. Maybe one of them was a response from Brightwater Keep.

"Thank you, Olly."

/*/

"But you said we were going to the Wall!" Sansa protested angrily as the Bloody Gate appeared before them. "What are we doing here? Last I heard, my brother was at Castle Black."

Lord Baelish raised his arms to calm her, in vain. "Sansa, listen to - "

"No!" she snapped. "I made the choice, remember? You said the decision was made!"

"Sansa, listen to me," he finally said, putting his hands on her shoulders again. As much as she hated the contact, she tried not to flinch away. "You're the last child of Ned and Catelyn Stark. We can't risk going to the North now, where the men who killed your family are in Winterfell. They're all over the roads."

Despite her lingering fury at being deceived, Sansa paused to consider his words. It was true, the Boltons had to be all over the roads around her home. But she knew the North. With a sufficient disguise and enough supplies, she could get to the Wall herself if she wanted. She'd have to find her own way to her brother.

Her conflict must have shown on her face, because soon, Littlefinger spoke again. "Don't worry, Sansa. This is the safest place to be at a time like this; the Eyrie is impregnable."

She sighed. "You're probably right," she forced herself to say. Littlefinger was up to something, so Sansa would play along for the moment, but she vowed to herself that she'd find a way to bring her family together again. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell, she reminded herself as she watched Littlefinger walk away. I have to make sure it happens.

/*/

Focussing on paperwork proved impossible. Jon sighed, resting his head in his hands as he leaned back in his chair. All he could think about was what had happened with Margaery. Waking up beside her - well, underneath her, truthfully - had been…had been what? He would never quite forget the panic he felt when he realized their exact situation, he knew, but even in the midst of the panic…what had he felt? What was it, that feeling when he felt her weight, her warmth, curled up so vulnerably on top of his chest?

He didn't…no, he couldn't. He couldn't possibly. He tried to deny it, but it was no use.

He…wanted her.

It was a strange thing, this situation where the Lord Commander found himself. This woman had come to him quite by accident, a queen on the run, who was now under his protection. Being the man he was, Jon had reached out to her. Little did he know how Margaery would reciprocate in kind.

It's a good thing she's moving into new chambers with Gilly today, he thought to himself. I don't know if I could stand to have her so close after…

His thoughts were interrupted when the lady herself entered the room. "Lord Commander," she said softly.

He inclined his head respectfully. "My lady." He had to ignore the great lump in his throat.

"I've, ah…I've just come to fetch the last of my things," she said a little awkwardly, as she picked up the last few items that were scattered onto the cot she'd been using.

Jon nodded. "Are the quarters with Gilly to your satisfaction?"

Thankfully, she smiled. "Very much."

As much as he hated the situation, he made himself smile. "I'm glad to hear that. I'm not sure how much longer we can keep you at the Wall…but for now, at least, this is something I can do."

Margaery smiled. "I'm grateful, sir." She curtsied once again and left, and Jon suddenly felt more alone than he had in a long time.

Oh gods, Jon. Pull yourself together, he snapped in his own mind. Don't pine after a woman you can't have.

But no matter how many excuses and explanations Jon ran through in his own mind, the Rose of Highgarden wouldn't leave his mind. He smiled, in spite of himself. Perhaps they would both just have to wait and see.

A/N: ...which is what you guys now have to do for two weeks! :D Please be sure to let us know what you think!

Also huge thanks to Freedom909 for the amazing coverart! Let us know if you like it!