So very sorry for the long wait you guys. Last semester was crazy and I just didn't feel inspired enough to keep up with any of my stories and on top of all that I had surgery a couple months back so I haven't really been up for much but...what can I say...I found the inspiration to write this at a really funny time. It's been really difficult for me to find the inspiration (and the time) with this story in particular since i've always felt like it was the least liked one out of them, but I always knew that i'd never abandon it, and hopefully i'll be able to finish it before the next season of Game of Thrones airs this year.

I hope you enjoy and I hope I can slowly start getting my groove back!

Jon

He watched, as mournfully as he often did, from a corner as the entirety of Castle Black bustled with life and, it would seem, nervousness. The day had finally come.

On top of waiting for a tribe of Wildlings' arrival, on top of the underlying resentment waiting to be spilled, on top of the rushed preparations to perfect such Northern gruffness, and on top of the waiting in itself...today was the day that the Tarly retinue was due to arrive. That had been a completely different argument in itself -the moment Jon had told her of their closeness to Castle Black she had stared him down as icily as her feminine brow would allow, as if to say, "Surely, you would not have me leave before the feast." And sure enough, perhaps due to his own selfish ways, he had promised her that that feast was hers.

He understood, of course, besides her reluctance to return to her father, why she would insist on staying. It would be one night -just one night, and yet it'd be the sum of all her deeds to the Night's Watch. Begrudging, surely, but never with ill intentions, and always done to preserve its own good.

He stood in the corner with the blacksmith and the silent task he had successfully entrusted and received from him, and departed with a wordless word of thanks from him as he continued to convoy carefully over the yard.

Amongst the hustle and bustle, Jon's eyes scoured the yard -formerly used for training green boys to use the right end of their swords, as it buzzed alive with preparations suited for a King's visit. Jon would know -he was probably the only one of them who had witnessed it.

Suddenly, he was back at Winterfell helping Old Nan move a crate of beets - or at least trying to help her, as he kept a distant eye on Bran and Arya knowing there were other eyes rested upon them too. It was not the same snow that surrounded him, or the same people, or the same overwhelming sense of loneliness, but it was that preemptive feeling...as if something was bound to change...as if he would no longer be standing still. It was true for the King's visit in Winterfell that year -everything changed before the King had even left their keep -but what more change could he handle coming about with Talla's departure?

Life went on before her...it will surely not stop for her. Jon reminded himself begrudgingly of just how insistent life had been at going on before he had met her. It was a sour introduction, he knew, but Jon could not, for the life of him, recall when he had met anyone worth meeting in a way that could be described as pleasant.

I'll miss her. The thought floated around in his mind as his eyes absentmindedly traced the lines she was drawing on her upper arm as she spoke to Ser Denys with a furrowed brow. He rolled the piece of steel in his pocket. He had gotten used to seeing her in the mornings -waiting for him with a crown of snow melting in her hair. He had gotten used to hearing her chuckle over a hot meal and to waking in the dead of night to make sure no harm had suddenly befallen her. Even the things he hadn't had the chance to get used to -things he knew were improbable for him ever to get used to, he would miss. Such as the way heat emanated from her chest when he got close enough to hear her blood pumping, or the subtle softness in her eyes right before she closed them in surrender. She does not make a habit of surrender. A smirk almost made its way to him, despite the cold and despite the general disposition of the keep, the memory of her want came in flashes he was all too happy not to ignore.

Talla

He's staring at me. She could feel the Lord Commander's eyes on her -she often could since that day in the pantry.

Talla felt inclined to curse herself every time she remembered what had transpired -what she had almost allowed to transpire between herself and the man in charge of this unholy keep. I had kissed him once before, though. And even after all that had happened almost immediately after that and the resulting wedge that tore itself into the already ungraceful peace they had found, she could not forget that he had kissed her back. In my foolishness, he had kissed me back. She shook her head just as she could feel her shoulders sag and her mind float off into a maidenly trance -as a maiden, what other trance could it be called? In my obliviousness, he had kissed me back.

They were both past that -they had to be. Talla knew all too well of how fast things were changing for everyone and not just herself. She would be shipped off to Highgarden once the new sun arose -if it ever did, and as unappealing as that was to her, she knew that what she was leaving behind faced a far greater fight than the one to be had with a fairly kind man in a marriage bed decorated with roses. She had given her sweat and blood; she had stood against the tides and swallowed down the same of doing so and unmasked herself to whispers day and night, all for the defense of a place she could never be sworn to. I'll leave at first light, but what will follow? She'd be lying if she said that she hadn't thought of somehow bringing the matter to King's Landing, but what use would she have for nobleman who were scuffling against each other to fight against their greatest threat yet? That is, if they would give a battered rose a chance like me to begin with. That was one thing she could admire about the men up here -yes, they were a band of misfits, a concoction of petty thieves, poor farmhands, rapists and the odd bastard here and there, but they were able to see, even when there was no imminent threat awaiting right outside the gates, that they had a joint purpose; a reason to unite.

Snapping herself out of the misty reverie that had momentarily overtaken her whilst she stood in the midst of the training yard, Talla resumed in overseeing the preparations due for the night -there was not much time, and she knew well enough their receptions were aplenty tonight.

The cavalry was coming. And all for me, what a sight! Had they gone through all this trouble for me back at Horn Hill, i'd be hard-pressed to leave, wouldn't I? The Cavalry is coming, and i'm to leave with them. They were all men that she had seen, she was sure, at some point or another around their fine keep. The captain of the guard, her father's most trusted, Ser Preston Leygood, had seen her first when she was a girl, and had once helped her up after she had tripped in the mud during one of Lady Olenna's visits to Horn Hill some years ago. She hadn't ever wondered what kind of opinion Ser Preston had of her -or if he had any opinions at all. But now, standing in the snow, she thought that he must have formed some sort of bias against her as he marched all the way to The Wall just to retrieve a little girl that should have known her place from the start. What did she care of Ser Preston Leygood's opinion on her behaviour? What did she care, really, about the opinions of any of her father's men? They did nothing but follow orders. They hadn't ever broken free -not like she had. They hadn't ever forged their way, through snow and steel, to make something out of nothing. Not like she had.

Speaking of upcoming arrivals, a one she was dreading less was Dolorous Edd's return to Castle Black. In light of Ser Allister's ever present dread, it was nice to have the fine brother when she did, and Talla dared to think he might have enjoyed her company as well even though she ultimately saw his disapproval in his restraint. But it was with that thought in mind when Talla noticed Ser Denys approaching her with another unrecognizable figure in hot pursuit, and she could slowly feel the jokes she had planned to nonchalantly say to Edd that night burn away like hot coal.

"Lady Talla, meet the commander of Long Barrow." She had expected a nod at best from the stranger, but the young man pressed slightly past Ser Denys, the only familiar presence she had in the cold yard yet, and took her gloved hand, jolting her slightly.

"Emmett," he answered her questioning stare still with her hand close to the sly smile that would not betray his lips, "titles are of little use to you, I assume."

You may assume nothing about me, Emmett. What was he trying to say? Something glowed on suggestively in his honey eyes that Talla couldn't place her finger on. But whatever it was, she knew she cared very little to indulge him in allowing her to find out. He was rugged, and tall of course, and so she had no hardships in understanding why a band of spearwives would find him to be an attractive candidate to take as a lover, but surely his flimsy attitude would grow boring to even the wildlings.

"I'm happy to see you so spared for our humble feast tonight," Our, how little humility have I learnt? "no doubt Long Barrow is in stitches without you and Eddison." She added as kindly as she could, surely failing at obscurely asking the question she knew she couldn't just ask. Where is Eddison?

"Oh i'm sure it's not that bad, my lady, Eddison can keep the peace enough. At least for a day or two." The long haired man answered as he dusted he cloak harshly from the snow, and Talla was glad for his momentary distraction so he wouldn't bear witness to her almost visible display of being taken aback. I had specifically mentioned...

No, she had specifically mentioned Long Barrow, and Talla was only just coming to terms with the fact that that meant this...Emmett.

"Oh, I was under the impression he'd be joining us." She veiled her obvious disappointment with a false smile -one she had been used to giving by now. She hoped she would not have to wear it often during her last night here.

"And what gave you that impression, my lady?" Talla didn't miss how his chest puffed out slightly at his question. Ah, just what the Watch needs more of -false bravado. "I am the commander of my rat-infested, spearwife run, castle, so I will attend your feast when I see fit."

She had never been more grateful to be interrupted.

"Lady Talla and Edd got on well last time he was here, i'm sure she's merely greedy for his company." He voiced with one his rare smirks, and for the first time that day, Talla thought she'd miss him, too.

"Have no worries, my lady, I aim to be more than sufficient company tonight." He pressed a tight kiss on her hand, presumably with some sort of effort at being chivalrous, but the act only made Talla squirm in her place, and once again her disappointment in the oft talked about man before her bubbled up. They called this swashbuckler the pride of Eastwatch?

"I only aim not to disappoint your expectations, Commander." She replied, her voice lacking the sweetness her words had offered -but the young commander did not take great care to notice.

His eyes scanned her with the greed of a man who had not seen a woman in years, and Talla hated him for it.

"You surely are a sight for sore eyes." Where have I heard that before? She could have let another lie leave her lips if she had the will for it, but Talla was half tempted to tell him just exactly what he could do with those sore eyes before Ser Denys, once again, interrupted her with grace and good breeding.

"I, myself, never thought i'd see a woman at the Wall but, lady Talla has proven herself extremely useful to us." She couldn't enjoy the warmth of whatever that compliment -if it even was a compliment, to wash over her as her mind already raced for away to escape the accosting, now time-wasting, festival of greeting all aimed to one unworthy man. But, it would seem, dear commander Emmett was insistent on testing her patience.

"A troll in a wig could pass for a lady up here. Although, if I do say so myself, you are as fine a lady as i've ever seen." Her nostrils flared at the mindless words as they left him, but the clueless man merely chuckled at his own humor. Did he mean to flatter her? Your flattery will get you nowhere -quite the contrary, it'll only get me as far away from you as possible.

"Lady Talla has more to boast than her non-troll like tendencies. So might I suggest you leave her be to let her get on with them?" She silently thanked Ser Denys for his timely interruption, once more, and judging the knowing nod he shared with Talla in the ensuing silence, she could healthily assume that he knew exactly how he was saving her.

Emmet awkwardly shifted on his feet, finally coming to terms with the strange notion that perhaps, for once, a woman at the wall was not melting at his feet. She bowed up shallowly out of the small, inconvenient, huddle that they had created, and set herself back on the path that the day had sent her on. Tonight was to be perfect, even if it meant that the likes of Emmet were to enjoy it.

She made her way hurriedly up the stairs to get a better view of how things were coming along structurally, and as she caught a glimpse of the slowly thriving glasshouse just outside the walls, her eyes drifted farther to the horizon, where a swift and steady march of green flags made their way to her hideaway. They are coming for me.

They were coming for her, and though she didn't know nor care about any one man in that retinue, she would make them all see what she had made of this place.

As if this one night I have, the last night i'll ever have with this brotherhood, revolved around impressing any one man.

Denys

He had lived long and hard. True, he was a nobleman by birth, but he had earned his cloak -he had earned his place in the Night's Watch.

She is still unafraid. He thinks as her father's men make their way through the gates while she stand on the level above with her chin strangely raised. She is unafraid, still, she makes her way down to meet the captain and his offering, and steadfast in her courage as she welcomes him in and tells him they will be staying the night.

"The Night's Watch need not bother with our accommodations. Lord Tarly has demanded we return as soon as you have been safely handed over to us."

"And who is it I am being handed over by?" She had defied only them before -strangers, rebels, criminals, outcasts, but never her father's own men -never her own people.

"Lord Tarly already has an agreement with the Lord Commander regarding the matter." Spoken with enough force from the captain of the guard to suggest that what he truly meant was that he was losing patience with little girls trying to play at holding off a surrender.

Denys didn't know where from or what point exactly the aforementioned Lord Commander had come to Talla's proximity -but it was hardly surprising. He is always close. The young man slinked to the lady's side in a manner that neither Denys or their respective brothers had yet to see from him, and locked his arms around the base of his chest whilst betraying an expression on his face.

"Lord Tarly has made a request, one that is approved only by my order." Jon Snow started, and the entire guard before him watched on in suspicion as he asserted his dominance to them before sharing a quick look with Talla, once again, betraying nothing of what Denys already knew existed. "Lady Talla will leave with you, but only when she allows it."

He had watched the boy for long now, and so every change in him was carefully watched and dispensed to Denys's memory as an analysis of his growing character. But as he watched the entire exchange, Denys realised that none of these men who had just freshly marched into Castle Black had ever seen or spoken to the young man before them. Jon Snow, modest as you are, you seem to love making memorable impressions on people.

"I will not stand for this nonsense. Lord Tarly-" the tree of a man started, in what he must have thought was a sweeping offense, before being interrupted smoothly by a man Denys could hardly ever describe as smooth.

"Lord Tarly has no jurisdiction here -nor any King." He had put his foot down -after all, the Watch was not known for its pleasantries, but they both knew they needed that reminder to diffuse the situation. It usually did. And it would have probably done so with no issue if a certain lady had the good sense to leave things be.

"Or Queen." Her smugness was apparent -who would not be smug in her place? She had a band of misfits ready to defend her against soldiers trained to follow orders and murder whoever stood in their way.

The irritable captain was now, to no surprise, quite irritated, and Denys would have bet all of the nothing that he had that it was more to do with Lady Talla's interjection than Lord Commander Snow's defiance. Could it really be called defiance when it is our land they step on?

"Lady Talla is expected back at Highgarden. Do you wish to explain her delay to both her father and the Tyrells?" It was his last card, but it had wiped the smirk of both the young girl's face and the man who stood by her side. He probably did not need to reminded that he stood by her side only now, when days later it will be her new husband's place. The Tyrells were always a powerful card to draw, he thought to himself, but not this far up the map.

Denys stood on the side, and could only watch in awaiting silence with a thoughtless hand on guard as the lady stepped forward and away from the cover of her 'knight''s armor, coming face to face with her latest captor.

"There will be no delay." She stated icily, reminding Denys once more -perhaps for the last time, how she could get anything done up here. "Look up, it's almost dusk."

And just as he had painfully expected, they all looked up -even he! The sky was sinking into a deep pink horizon, and Ser whoever-his-name-is nor Lord Tarly can do anything to stop it.

"There won't be much daylight left to get very far -unless you'd like to set up camp near a Wildling settlement?" She continued in the same tone she had re-spawned herself in -devoid of smugness, devoid of pain, devoid of anything, really. She had only her intention in mind, and her means to carry her -and they all saw that.

Even her father's men, how reluctantly did nothing in return -to everyone's shock and chagrin. They were shocked, yes, but could they really be surprised?

"My father's men will stay the night -whether you wish to participate in the feast tonight is up to you. Either way, we leave at first light. Good evening, Ser Preston." And with that, she climbed back up the stairs, chased shortly by the Lord Commander's pet beast. Had he been there the whole time?

It was funny, now that he thought of it as he made the final stop to his chambers before having to go back out in an hour -could the little rose be so fierce that those blasted, flowery southerners had not even noticed the direwolf in there midst?

Jon

They did not have the greatest -or smoothest, of beginnings.

The wildlings had been late to arrive, which was no surprise since they were not especially known for their punctuality, but suffice it to say it did not exactly help along the bitterness that hung in the air regarding the entire ordeal. Jon wished that their arrival had been better, but as soon as the gates had welcomed them in he realised that it was this exact moment that he should have been dreading.

He had been too preoccupied thinking of somebody else's departure to think of the Wildings' official arrival. And seeing as they were to be greeted by the very men who had been prepared to swear to kill wildlings until their dying breath rather than let them touch Castle Black, it was just now registering to him that it could all end in a blood bath should one wrong move be made.

Right moves, however, would not entirely ensure their safety, but they'd make it harder for either party's dignities to shed blood to such a show -and Talla had put on the grandest one most of the people in attendance had ever witnessed. She made all the right moves, greeting their guests and introducing them to their unwilling hosts with an insistent expression, leading people to an awkward shuffle of feet to their seating arrangements, starting the band and pouring the drinks. She had made all the right moves, and she had done them by his side. He found himself thinking, for the hundredth time that day, what was all of this for? Who was all of this for?

The cold wind spilled generously over the gates as the last embers of sunlight were crushed under the obsolete night sky, and somewhere in the distance the Gods must have looked down and laughed. What does their laughter look like? Is it a strike of lightning? There was no lightning in this sky however, even though, at least to Jon, the sight of Wildlings and Crows sharing drink and food was enough to make even the mightiest titan cackle. There were sullen faces on both sides of course, not to mention those of the Tarly retinue who had deigned the night fit for their presence, and their pestering glances did not stop for any merriment. Let them have their sour faces, Jon thought in a manner surprisingly all too similar to a certain southerner's, they won't have tonight to show for it.

While they sat and awkwardly began shifting towards the others the deeper and more comfortable into their cups they got, the lady of the keep roamed the hall like a curious ghost watching new tenants discover the house it had been haunting for centuries. Her dress remained plain in taste but strangely darker than always, her hair pulled back in a bun at the back of her head, and her the skin on her brow wrinkled slightly as she took another head count whilst he just sat and ...watched, like a boar watched the horizon pass it by.

"The girl will not do you any good." The Red Witch's whispers crept into his ear once more even with all the bustle around them and a band waiting to start behind him, but it was a strange anchor that pulled him back every time he was willing to ignore his own hesitations -every time he let himself think of her. Under the cover of the moon, a single shell in the snow, fractured by the light of a thousand flickering candles, she stood out in all lights, and in all lights the mysterious woman reminded him of what was at stake.

It had felt like an eternity that he had had something resting upon his shoulders -the weight of the world, no less, and even tonight amid the unsure bouts of happiness spilling through such dreary walls, the world still leaned heavily on his shoulders. There was not a moment in his memory -especially not since the darkness ate up his dreams, in which he could recall being a lad of young age, red blooded, raised in a castle and ready to take on his pursuits as they came. Except perhaps that one night...with Talla.

The fiddle brushed in low strokes, resounding throughout the room and to Jon, mimicking the rumble of tension the moment before he had decided on kissing her -on giving in. And then the fiddle picked up, screeching in a higher pitch, and it poured in the memory of her arms around his neck, her want lining his lips with her own. The sound carried him off his seat, pushing him to wander the crowded hall in a direction (or to a destination) he could not yet speak of.

The melody played like a journey in an afterthought as his eyes scanned the room for the lady of the evening. There were some children in the hall, making makeshift crows with twigs on an empty table, which he chose to ignore, and elder leaders gathered around Ulmer, wrapped in the blanket of his tales, as i'm sure he will be in theirs'. He stumbled onto many sights he thought he'd never see, and did not stop until his eyes had finally landed upon the picture of a lady in fractured light, weaved within the lax crowd with a tray in hand.

Though in the previous nights (and days) leading up to this one Jon had been hard pressed ever to find the lady without a scowl or furrowed brow marring her visage, he was pleased to finally find her a sight to behold. Despite the fact that she was still, for all intents and purposes, working the party with a tray in hand, she seemed, at least to Jon, relaxed...at peace. She wore a soft smile, unencumbered by any forced etiquettes or bitter words as her own eyes roamed around the room. Counting her successes, no doubt. He looked on as her eyes found minute details to criticise and sights to laugh upon, feeling like he had been walking with her through a myriad of emotions, until her eyes landed on his. It was only then that he realised how intently -and cowardly, he had been staring at her. And, that the music had changed.

It was a song he had only ever heard played at Winterfell, and soon as he had noticed a change from the previously simmering rhythm a familiar hand grabbed Talla by the arm and pulled her into the middle of all the madness.

It would seem that Satin had let loose -tonight of all nights, and his stance almost seemed to be challenging the lady to a duel instead of a dance. Involuntarily, Jon's feet moved him closer to the scene, the floor booming beneath him with every stomp and the air vibrating with every energetic clap, until he had come close enough to witness her return the provocation in defiance -to which many of the brothers and wildlings alike inspecting the spectacle made sure to comment on.

"The lady's gonna teach 'us 'ow they do it 'n th'south!"

"Go on m'lady!"

"She'll show you how it's done, green boy!" They hollered on loudly, only fuelling the determination in her eyes, and so it set her off on a path that would stop for no one.

She bowed and twirled to the Northern song, saluting the sun and stars at every turn and occasionally landing herself in Satin's arms -who, it seemed, took every advantage to show off his strength with a mighty elevation at every opportunity.

They challenged one another, back and forth and fighting their way over the impromptu dance space, and if Jon were none the wiser he would have thought Satin was about to give in -luckily, however, Bearded Ben stepped in completely in sync to their rhythm and took Talla by the waist and away from her poor victim as she laughed backwards into his shoulder.

It was only seconds later that she had been passed off to Ulmer in a fit of giggles, her face flushed from the movement and at the old man's attempts at sporting his old bones before almost reluctantly meeting Emmet for a dance in which Jon could only describe as a power struggle. Needless to say, it did not last long, and she allowed herself to be handed to Tormund moments after, their heights comically unmatched, nevertheless, she gleamed with her rare joy, nearly convulsing at the uncouth laughter that continued to leave her.

As she danced wildly to the ongoing song, Jon spotted the men lining up to his right and, knowing that there was an upcoming fast-paced interlude in the song, figured that they must have been planning on indulging Talla in a spinning-wall. Perhaps in an attempt to dizzy her down off of her high as well. The new found knowledge and the strange piece of metal in his pocket armed the young commander with the strength to step forward to where the makeshift wall of misfits ended just as the young flower spun wildly through it and, in a clash of winds, he met her with a crash as she landed into his arms, her frame suddenly still and her eyes wide with surprise.

He would wager his gold if he had any on what she thought of him in that singular moment, but it was a wager he'd have to leave for later, for he felt all eyes on him and his hands that rested upon her waist. Many hands had undoubtedly fallen upon her waste -he had witnessed them do so tonight, after all, but Jon would have to admit he'd be disappointed to find out if any of those hands felt the same surge of fire he felt when he held her.

As he came to his senses, thankful that it was only a moment in which he had lost them, he dared to move the body that they had made up together -slowly, and in their place at first, but as he felt her body ease out of the stiffness his touch had pushed her into they both fell into the unforgiving pace of the song. He swung her high and did not count how many times he had leant his smile out in her presence -he just felt her fire, and it was infectious. She let him have her freely, if he were to close his eyes he could almost tell himself that she was his lady and his to show off in front of whomever he deemed fit to witness the way she cradled his neck with her hands.

Jon could not even recall the last time he had danced, never mind with such recklessness and in the presence of so many subordinates, but even as he caught casual sightings of Ser Denys with his arms crossed and a look of wistful disapproval, Jon could not bring himself to care. No more, not tonight, not after this. They were so close, and judging by the way her face fell when the music had finally come to its abrupt stop, Jon Snow could almost deceive himself into thinking that she, too, wished it would never stop.

Talla

She felt hot all over, even after an hour had passed and she had retired herself to her chamber. Even as her father's men followed her to her room to ensure the safe keeping of her honour for the night, she sensed the soft caress of his touch through the thick material of her dress.

She could barely even remember all that had transpired that night -it passed by in a rushed haze. From the men to the drink to even more men, Talla had barely had any time to inhale the alcoholic air before she had spied the young commander staring at her from across the room as if something was coming. And, of course, it did, though she didn't know whether to be glad or perplexed at how unexpected it was.

Talla brushed a strand of hair with her fingers, pulling her braid loose to cascade into her lap as she finally dared to look at the changed woman in the mirror. She had danced amongst men of every caliber that night -thieves and knights and wildlings of all people, but no one made her feel the way he did.

"Gods damn you, Jon Snow." She whispered, gasping momentarily and covering her mouth at the statement before remembering that she was alone. For some reason, it was hard to feel like she was alone anymore. He surrounds me all the time, could that last even when I travel down to where the snow has surely thawed?

Something else has thawed, surely, though I can not yet tell what. Is it him? Is it me? What has he done?

What have you done to me, Jon Snow? On the even of her departure, she had to wonder. And she would have, were it not for the soft knock on her door in the middle of the night.

The feast still raged on, audible even from her chamber in the King's Tower, but Talla knew her stillness enough to know when a disruption had come. She stilled, suddenly feeling cold in a room where the warm air had been trapped precisely enough for her liking with her fingers still stuck in her braid, before the knock she thought she heard became a knock she could no longer deny, coming back louder and sharper.

A surge of fear that she had taught herself to ignore pulsed through her -her guards had only escorted her to her chamber, but they had not stayed, Talla felt them leave almost immediately, so who was it that was taking the opportunity to come to her door in the dead of night and winter? A drunkard from the feast? Ser Alliser? Emmet?

"Talla." It's him. She didn't know whether to sigh out in relief at the sound of his raspy voice, but she had no time to think of how she felt or the robes she did or did not have on as she rushed to open the door for him and drag him out of the cold before anyone could see him.

"What are you doing here?" Are you lost? Is your blood dripping in ale? Are your eyes glazed in inebriation? Are your lips laced with the lies of the drink? She couldn't tell what had pushed him to come to her now...or at all.

He stood in the warmth of her room -her space, looking as sullen as ever before, with dark strands of hair falling past his ears. She waited for his explanation -for him to tell her that there was some sort of problem that only she could scrub clean, but an explanation never came. The dark man merely leaned over and kissed her, touching her neck with a gloved hand that was still dusted with snow.

"Oh.." She breathed out once he had given her enough room to exhale. Granted, it was not much. With his hand still gloved and cold, he kept her head in place next to his, never letting her face relent on the tantalising contact with his own. It was simple and rough, not at all as poised as what the Reach had told her to aspire to, but Talla doubted that the Lord Commander of Castle Black was what her septa had in mind for the man she'd give her heart to. He's more than that. He's so much more than that.

"Say my name." He whispered to her in a frenzy, and it seemed like the only thing that had been said in so long since he had been there. It had been an eternity in her room, an eternity in his arms.

Talla tasted the leather of his glove as it traced the swelling of her lip, but she couldn't bring herself to look back at his eyes that were staring holes into her skin. Stern, strict Jon Snow was in her room, begging for the hot air to taste the way his name sounded coming out of her mouth. He had kissed her before, yes, but Talla had assumed that it had been out of pity. He had teased her before, yes, and even though she knew that he was typically a man of his word, she found it hard to believe that he'd consider taking matters into his own hands once he had caught a whiff of her hesitation.

"If you've thought about kissing me, even once, say my name." He rolled her words right back to her, and Talla could not resist the temptation. Of teasing him, of course.

"You're paraphrasing." She smiled, and so did he.

She hadn't ever seen something so beautiful -not in the Reach and certainly not this far North. He was something else, not entirely stone and not entirely velvet. A bit of both, perhaps. And she could only be in awe of it, even with his hand on her face and the other circling her waist with growing anticipation.

"I don't know what that means." He was almost youthful as he said it, and in his foolishness Talla realised how foolish she had been this whole time. She had left her home, she had made it to the Wall, she had forced herself into the lives of men many women at court would faint at the smell of. She had gone so far, just to deny herself of the one thing she so longed to taste.

Still reeling off of his clumsy attempt at humour, she pushed herself up and into him, and this time, he did not hesitate in holding her in return. She felt it again, all over again, the impossible feeling of being so close to someone. It wasn't just a fluke, this is real. Never had anything felt more exhilarating than the feel of someone's want against your own.

"Jon." She hoarsely sighed, half-hoping it would get lost in the air. There, I said it. Now you know. Now you know how I want you.

"I want you. Tell me..." He mumbled harshly against her lips, his stubble prickling her skin in all the best ways. She felt it. Whatever this was, she could no longer doubt that he wanted her -no more than her own aching need for him. She could no longer hide behind indifference.

She stroked his hair before bringing her hands down to his own and removing the gloves off of them. His fingers held some sort of charge on them -whatever it was, be it the dark arts, she did not care, it was thrilling to the very core. Talla guided his hands to her collar bone, where they gently rested before achingly pushing the start of her sleeve away, and she closed her eyes, reveling in every moment of his touch before caving in a manner she was sure her septa would faint at.

"Stop talking." She wasn't even sure if it was her that had pulled him to her and not whatever uncanny force of attraction that rumbled within her. Once again, their hands explored each other, and Talla made herself acquainted with his doublet before preparing to bit adieu to it.

She could not expect a completely reckless Jon at her doorstep -nor would she want one. He would not really be Jon if he were. And so it came to no surprise to her -only merely to her flaming senses, perhaps, when his hands overlapped onto hers before she could remove his doublet off of him.

"Are you sure? You are still a lady, you know." Reckless, perhaps not. But smug? Clearly.

It was the perfect opportunity for her stop, if she wanted to. She could tell him that it had been a long night and that she was a foolish maiden, if she wanted to. Just as he had given her the choice to proceed that day in the pantry, he was giving her the choice to opt out tonight, if she wanted to. But she didn't want to. She had Highgarden waiting for her, a gentle and friendly husband probably raising his hawks right this moment and a father worrying over his honour, they were all extortions meant to keep her in check, and perhaps, when she was a lesser woman, they would have. But they were not reasons, and Talla did not mean to be shackled by them any longer. She wanted something, but she didn't want to stop. Chivalrous, as always, Jon Snow.

"Perhaps...but I am your lady, still." For hours more, I am yours.

So...that happened. Tell me what you guys think. Or nah. What are we feeling here, guys? Did I make the right choice? Should I have kept you guys in never-ending angst?

On a side note, if anyone is interested to know, the dane sequence was written to the tune of Kingdom Dance by Taryn Harbridge on repeat (from the Tangled OST). Weird...I know...but it's literally been the inspiration for this MONTHS since I first heard and I immediately knew where I wanted to take this story all those months back. It feels book to finally honour the promise I made to that song -this chapter, for more than one reason, is a milestone for me.

Before I go (God knows for how long) I just wanted to say how much I appreciate your support. Whoever is out there, reading, thank you. I have more news coming up in the next chapter! Wait and see!