Author´s note:

It has been a long time, my old friends. No seven kingdoms could fill the hole my lack of inspiration has created.

Dress in this Chapter (Remove Spaces):

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Chapter 8

"But you just whisper what you said
One last time
I could have sworn I heard you say
That you are mine"

– Be the one by The Fray

There was something gleaming oddly in those pools of blue, a light brighter than the one above our heads, a light that victoriously damped the raven´s dangerously bitter warnings. Through the day, they watched me carefully, through the night they broke me out of the jail I was held captive in; they released me from the heavy chains around my wrist and took me to another place unknown. Somewhere where white narcissus bloom under a cloudless sky, somewhere a wolf howls to the sun.

His laugh, as clear as bells, among roaring laughter of other lords, mostly guests that came for the upcoming wedding the next day, woke me to the sight of a milky twilight and a party disappearing through the north gate. A tradition, Lady Catelyn explained, the North men only are seen worthy a wife if they could hunt her a proper meal, if they aren´t able to feed her they automatically become undignified. The northern stayed truthful to their traditions, like their belief in the old gods, they pledged their loyalty to. Ire cavemen they were, but one was lucky to have them as friends, like my father did.

Discomfort deepened in my guts as I watched him mount towards the woods, the acknowledgement of his absence until dusk drew it even farther almost so nausea overtook me. I had spent nearly all of my time at his side, as his evermore following shadow alongside with his direwolf who still haven´t grown fond of me. His suspicious golden coins followed my every move, as his master and I strolled through the castle with my gentle fingers clinging tightly to his arm. The distrust was on reciprocity, neither of us would ever get close to one another, except for maybe ripping throats out, that I knew now.

I let Mary massage southern lavender oil into the black of my hair whilst I sink chin deep in comfortingly hot water.


Jon Snow swung the sword in a well-trained, lethal arc, cutting through the practice dummy like a hot knife through butter. His movements were fast and rough as though he tried to get rid of the frustration that rest like a burden upon his shoulders.

"Is it dead yet?" I called out after watching him for my own entertainment for a while. It might only be right to get to exchange a few words with my good-brother to be before I wed into this family.

He stirred, straightening up and sliding his sword into the sheath that lay across his back, before he turned. Pearls of sweat ran down his forehead, plastering black curls to his skin. His lips were parted sucking in deep breaths.

"Princess Baratheon" He bowed, surprised by my presence.

"Good day, my Lord Snow" I sunk in a curtsey, adding my part to the courtesy.

He refused to interact some more, seemingly beyond uncomfortable with the current situation, his eyes were set downcast as I watched him.

"I wonder" I began, seeking for his attention once again "Why you aren´t at your brother´s side, hunting in the woods?"

His dark eyes lifted from the muddy ground and I felt guilt rise within me as I recognized something I was too familiar with, hurt. "Lady Catelyn says it is a tradition and a bastard shouldn´t be involved in any."

"Lady Catelyn is way too dramatic. No Baratheon would be involved in anything if it was her choice then." He eyed me quizzically, as I spoke.

"House Baratheon is tracing is descent from Orys Baratheon, Aegon I´s bastard brother." I answered as I received the question he nesting in the warm brown of his eyes.

"Sharing Family history, little niece?" A familiar voice behind me, I never thought I´d hear so soon again asked. I turn almost immediately as the sound of it reached my ears.

Under an untidy full black beard, he resembled more a Northman than a southern lord with; a smile crept up widening at the sight of my obvious surprise. Those blue eyes that always held honesty in them, called me welcome in his arms. I gladly accepted his invitation, almost running him over after colliding with him while my arms clung around his waist tightly as if he´d vanish when I let go.

He placed a longing kiss on my hair, one hand stroking my back whilst the other around my waist pressed me against him. "The barbaric beard suits you, uncle. Though I prefer the clean and shaven Renly." I mumbled, muffled by the leather covering his chest.

"So do I, but it has been a long ride north." He rumbled in response, chuckling some more as is tightened my grip. "I´m not going anywhere just yet, my sweet"


"Good night...Robb" I added, my lips curving up into a smile as his name rolled so easily off my tongue. The feast was held long into the night, the candles´ flames were swallowed by the shadows that lurked in the corners of the great hall. If there wasn´t roaring laughter of men so drunk they couldn´t tell the difference between water and wine, women lost in gossiping and people dancing until their feet fell numb, me amongst them, I would have referred this occasion as colorless. But slowly and surely I have grown used to the grey of my adopted home.

"I need to tell you something before tomorrow." He stuttered after I was to leave him with a door as barrier between the two of us. My back had been to him, but there was a strange quality to his voice that made me turn around.

"And what is that?" I questioned, looking up into the pools of greyish blue I had adored so much. A man of ice he is, I thought. But his heart, beneath the furs and leathers, was warm as the fire in Winterfell´s hearths. In the depths of the Tully blue seas, there was a flame hiding in the midst, expanding in the black hole that lead to his soul, to his mind, to his heart.

After a few lingering quite moments of inspecting my face, he whispered: "I am in love with you."

Time slowed to one heartbeat. The world became his eyes, his voice. This was not happening. Surely, it wasn´t real. No silent murmur that left his lips seemed real. I resisted the urge to close my eyes, just to open them again, to reassure this was not a spirit dream. No. No matter how unbelievable it all seemed. This was real. This was life. This was flesh and blood. Hundreds of questions bumped against my skull, demanding an answer I could not give them.

"Since when?" I barely managed to force these words out.

"Since – Since the day we met."

I exhaled a sharp breath, bowing my head so he could not see the little sad smile on my lips. "You´re a terrible liar."

"I am not lying" He defended himself from my reproach.

"Robb" My voice cracked, it sounded like a desperate plead, as if I was begging him to say he did not mean any of it. As if I tried to make him take the words he said back, to rewind the moment that just happened, so I could close the door behind me, to put some space between us. Because love will mean some falling and I was afraid of heights.

"No, listen to me." He began, resting a finger under my chin, lifting my head. I placed my hands against his chest firmly, to keep the appropriate distance between us, feeling his heart beat drumming against them strong and steady –also it quickened within moments as he spoke: "I am in love with you, and I´m not in the business of denying myself the simple pleasure of telling true things. I fell for the first smile you gave me. I fell for those spring green eyes that awaken joy in me. I fell for the laugh that wouldn´t let me rest at night. I fell for the kind of person within this beautiful frame. I fell for-"

I closed the remaining space I required before, catching his lips passionately with my own. The inner conflict about the rights and the wrongs of my actions I had been battling, now flooded to where my lips interacted with his. Force mingled with need made me grip into the fiery red hair my fingers were previously tangled in, to pull his further down to myself, only to experience his mouth to the fullest.

They say no couple could possibly share a soul, but ours together felt like completion. They fit together like a mosaic; two pieces that once sprang apart were now intertwined again, two individuals making something greater than themselves.

And that moment spoke more truth than anyone could put in words.

"Be the one and only, wait for me
Will you be the only one
Will you be, be the one and only
Wait for me; let me be your only one"

– Be the one by The Fray

Author´s note:

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Lots of love, med.