Hey all! :D

I've been working on this for a couple weeks now, and it's finally done! Praise!

It's part one in a twoshot...the other part should be up within a few days.

There's also some smut in here oops. So beware.

Enjoy! Don't hesitate to drop a review!

Mwah!

It's on the dark, freezing cold nights like these he longs for her the most. It almost makes him regret deciding to go to the Wall. Almost, because he knows she deserves better than him. After all...who would want to marry a bastard, with nothing to offer?

Except, a part of him knows that she won't be with anyone else. They had promised themselves to each other in front of the heart tree. It wasn't a real wedding; just a couple of love struck teenagers who had had a little too much ale to drink. There had been no rings, unless you counted the pieces of string they wrapped around their fingers. Their vows- if you could even call them that- had been little more than a few proclamations of love made in between drunken giggles, hastily blurted out in order to get to the kisses and consummation.

Of course, that had all been before he accepted his uncle's offer to join the Watch. An honorable decision, yes, although he hadn't thought that being apart from her would be so...difficult. The romantic part of him wants to bolt off and run into her arms, and, hell, even the sensible part of him is starting to think like that, too. He hasn't even taken his vows yet. He could do it. Why should he be forced to freeze his arse off and regret giving her up for the rest of his pitiful life?

He stares out the window and, even in the pitch black of the night, he can still make out the monstrosity that is the Wall. He sighs and looks away. They'd always spoken of going to visit far off places; the Wall, Braavos, Pentos, Asshai...he shivers and pulls the furs tighter around his body. What he'd give to be on the warm, sandy beaches of Braavos with her right now.

It had started out innocent enough. A few bashful glances from across the mess hall, resulting in flushed cheeks and avoiding each others' gaze until they would look up at find the other staring at them. She was a serving wench, as pretty as the next, yet there was something special about her. Even now, more than a year after they admitted their love for each other, he still can't put his finger on just what drew him to her.

Perhaps it was the slight curl at the ends of her otherwise pin straight hair. Or the gold specks in her brown eyes. Maybe it was her wide grin, and how she wasn't afraid to show her teeth no matter the minor crookedness to them. All of those things together, he decides, only add to her charm. Perhaps it was the entirety of all her little details combined that drew him to her.

His old friend- friend, if he was being generous-, Theon Greyjoy, would often catch him staring. The ward would always laugh and make a snide remark, which Jon blatantly ignored. Theon would flag Melodie over and she'd come to the table, sneaking glances Jon's way as Greyjoy talked to her. He'd insert innuendos into their conversation, trying to get her and Jon in bed together, which she obviously missed, or just chose to ignore. She'd leave a few moments later, leaving a confused, annoyed and discouraged Theon.

Jon sighs, his breath coming out in a white cloud even though he's in his room, with the fire burning in the hearth. He brings his knees up to his chest and is somehow still shivering under the thick furs. He remembers the nights spent with Melodie very well; she'd always be there to warm him up, if need be.

They were right outside his chambers, rather late into the evening. She had been sent up to deliver his supper, since he hadn't felt like coming down; he'd had a terrible dispute with Lady Catelyn a few hours prior, and still didn't think it seemed fit to show his face.

Melodie hadn't asked why he was upset, nor did she scold him for arguing with the Lady of Winterfell. Instead, she put down the tray of food, then reached up on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, her small hands cupping his cheeks. He hesitantly deepened the kiss, his tongue parting her lips and exploring her mouth. He rested his hands gently on her waist, afraid that he would break her, for she seemed so fragile and delicate. She tasted like the lemon cakes she always made special for Sansa, and like cinnamon and honey and sugar and summer.

Melodie had left a minute later without another word, red-faced and breathless. Jon himself felt extremely light headed, and could not even form a coherent thought. He went to sit down, completely forgetting about the tray of food waiting for him outside his chambers.

Jon stifles a yawn and rubs his hand over his face. When he pulls it away, it's wet. Cursing under his breath, he furiously swipes at his eyes. Crying won't help you, Snow.

Shivers run up and down his spine; he slips on his tunic, absentmindedly wondering if he could catch frostbite even indoors. Out of the corner of his eye, he notes the extinguishing fire. Sighing, he rolls out of bed and goes to stoke the fire, holding onto the furs and dragging them with him. He collapses in front of the hearth, tunelessly humming a song she would always sing to him.

He hadn't seen her the next morn in the mess hall when he went to break his fast, much to his dismay. He ate his meal in silence, the air between him and Lady Catelyn still icy from their argument last night. He pushed his plate away, the food almost untouched, and slunk out of the room, not even bothering to excuse himself. He felt Lady Catelyn's eyes burning holes into the back of his head, reigniting his anger from the day before.

Later on in the morn, Jon joined Robb and Theon at their daily training session with Ser Rodrik. Robb murmured an apology on behalf of his mother, quelling Jon's anger. Theon, ever insensitive, told him to suck it up and stop whining, which earned him a kick to the groin.

From the training area, Jon spotted Melodie walking through the courtyard. He was about to go to her, but a sharp blow in his stomach from the blunt side of Greyjoy's sword made him decide against it. No doubt he would have been a victim of the ward's japes if he left then.

He'd gotten hit by his brother and his friend several more times; he simply wasn't focused- all his thoughts went back to Melodie. Ser Rodrik dismissed him, telling him to work harder at the next practice.

Jon quickly stopped off at the armory and threw his sword and practice armor into the large shed. Tripping over his own feet, he dashed to where he'd seen her last. He frowned; she wasn't there. Dejected, he went to find his other siblings.

The fire was roaring once more. He warms his hands up by the flames, his teeth chattering. Ghost looks on at him from the other side of the room, seemingly mocking him. Jon can practically hear the thoughts running through the wolf's mind; stupid human, freezing your arse off. That's what you get for not having a fur coat.

Or maybe Jon's just going crazy.

Jon came down for supper that night. Melodie was there, serving his family their meals. He watched as Arya tugged on her sleeve and whispered something in Melodie's ear. She laughed, then met his gaze, which only made his heart beat faster. She sauntered off to get another pitcher of ale for the table, her hips swaying more than usual. She sent Jon another look over her shoulder, still laughing.

He wasn't sure what Arya had told her, but whatever it was, he was extremely glad that she had done so.

Melodie came to his chambers that night again, later than last time, and empty handed on top of that. She shrugged, a shy smile on her lips. He noted a mischievous glint in her brown eyes.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, feeling his own lips tugging upward at the corners. "Isn't it inappropriate for a woman to be in a man's chambers this late?"

She laughed and looked at him the same way she had after she spoke to his sister. "There's something charming about you, Jon Snow." The serving girl declared, her smile widening. She said nothing more. She cupped his cheeks like she had the other night, her soft lips brushing his. He returned the kiss, still careful with his touches.

She grew more insistent, deepening the kiss and moving her hands from his cheeks to tangle themselves in his curly hair. He could taste the wine on her lips and tongue, but he knew she was far from being drunk. No, she came here willingly, and on her own.

She'd somehow managed to push them back a few steps and close the door behind her. He held her against the wall, his breeches becoming highly constricting. She must have felt his hardness, for she grinded her hips against his, smirking throughout their kiss. An involuntary groan escaped him and they stumbled over to the bed, drunk on their kisses.

Jon can still taste her lips on his, despite being at Castle Black for almost three moons now. He remembers every part of her with utmost clarity, every part that his hands and mouth had come to know so well. He can almost envision her lying on the bed, waiting for him.

He wonders if she ever spared him a few thoughts. No doubt she'd have plenty of admirers chasing after her; she had a certain irresistible quality about her. He wonders if she kept their promise, the vows they made at the heart tree.

He wouldn't blame her if she didn't.

They tumbled onto the bed into a pile of half-naked limbs, so clumsily that it had them giggling and laughing like fools. She was always able to make him smile like no one else could.

They pulled off the rest of their clothes and tossed them onto an unwanted pile at the foot of his bed. Their kisses became more heated and desperate, their touches less nervous and cautioned. He'd kissed a couple girls before, but gods never like this. Not with teeth and tongue and hands, not with this wild frantic need.

Jon and Melodie spent awhile acquainting themselves with each others' bodies. He could sincerely swear that he'd never seen such a beautiful sight as she. Curvy in all the right places, freckles where he thought would never see the light of day. Her breasts fit perfectly into his hands, briefly making him wonder if he and Melodie were made for each other, but all thoughts were drowned out when he heard her moan and whimper at his touch.

His mouth quickly replaced his hands, and he began teasing her, kissing and sucking at the soft flesh. He switched their position, moving her out of his lap to lie down on the bed. As he traveled down her body, she whispered both endearments and rather filthy things he would be appalled to hear if it were anybody but her saying them.

Jon will always remember Theon's crude comments about his latest conquests, and the female gender in general. Rude and highly inappropriate, that was certain, but nonetheless true. He hadn't believed him before his first night with Melodie. Looking back, Jon realizes that he never told Theon he was right. Probably for the best, he decides. He'd never hear the end of it if he admitted it.

He enjoyed nothing more than than making love to Melodie and pleasuring her. It was something special they shared between them and only them. He'd give anything to spend one last night with her.

He'd often heard Theon talking about how sweet a woman's cunt was, but his vivid descriptions still didn't manage to do Melodie justice. She was sweeter than any wine he'd tasted, and the sounds that came out of her mouth were even sweeter.

Her fingers tugged demandingly at his hair, her nails lightly scratching his scalp as he kissed and sucked at her center. He curled a finger inside her, then another, eliciting a loud moan from her. She arched her back, her hips not even touching the mattress anymore. He groaned into her, his cock hardening until it was almost painful.

She peaked when he slipped a third finger inside her, crying out his name, her legs clenching around his shoulders before she fell back onto the pillows, her breathing ragged and uneven. He kissed his way up her body, pressing a chaste kiss on her parted lips. She pushed herself up on her elbows and deepened the kiss, pushing his smallclothes off his hips.

Jon couldn't help but feel embarrassed at his obvious arousal. Melodie must have noticed his discomfort too, since she laughed softly, a knowing smile on her lips. She planted a kiss on his forehead and murmured reassurances in his ear, pulling him on top of her.

Jon laughs out loud at that memory, earning him a quizzical look from his direwolf. It had taken much convincing on Melodie's part for him to finally make love to her. His biggest fear back then had been putting a bastard in a girl's belly. She had to practically beg him to take her maidenhead and finish what they'd started.

Months of pent up wanting and longing went into their lovemaking. Jon tried to restrain himself, not wanting to hurt her, especially on their first time. But his primal instinct ended up taking over, each thrust becoming faster and harder than the last.

His fingers dug into her hips, and he made a mental note to kiss the marks after. Melodie dragged her tongue along the base of his throat, playfully nipping at his collarbone. He growled low in his throat, capturing her lips in a heated kiss, his thrusts speeding up even more.

Her legs tightened around his waist, and he knew she was close. He pressed open mouthed kisses down her neck and shoulders, groaning against her delicate skin when he heard her call out his name. He dragged his tongue along the tops of her breasts, sending her over the edge, crying out that she loved him.

Jon came a moment later, pulling her even closer by the waist, spilling his seed inside her. Reluctantly, he pulled out of her, pressing a kiss to her damp hair. He collapsed on the bed next to her, and she instantly curled up to his side, nuzzling his neck.

"Was that true?" he whispered into the silence, far after he was certain that she'd fallen asleep.

"What was?" she yawned, pulling the furs up to her chin.

He shifted so he was able to look at her. "You said you loved me."

She smiled tiredly, pressing herself even closer against him. She allowed her eyes to close, one arm draped lazily over his chest. "Why else would I have come here, Jon Snow?" She fell asleep moments later, but not before Jon got the chance to say that he loved her, too.

Jon frowns deeply, moving a bit closer to the fire. He knew his father would have given his blessing if he'd asked for Melodie's hand. Ned had always liked the serving girl, and he always told Jon how much he wanted him to be happy.

Jon had spent so long wallowing in self-pity that he never accepted that he deserved to be happy. All this time, he acted as if it was his fault that he was born. He thought all he deserved was shame and hatred, not love or a family or Melodie.

They developed a routine. She'd come to his chambers late at night, they'd make love, and then they'd talk, although those two often alternated, depending on their current moods. She'd stay for the night, and wake him up with her hot lips around his cock. She'd leave a few minutes later, having to get to the kitchens.

If he was lucky, he'd get to see her during the day. A glimpse of her, perhaps, or an exchange of wicked grins from across the courtyard. Sometimes- though much more rarely- he'd be even luckier. Once every couple weeks, he'd find her in the stables, returning from her supply runs from the nearby towns, when he'd go in to saddle his own mount.

Jon and Melodie would go into an empty stall, exchanging heated kisses, frantically pulling at each others' clothing. They tried to stay quiet, for fear of someone catching them. But the whole prospect of being caught excited them, and made their lovemaking all the more urgent.

He'd corner her in the dark hallways of the castle if they ran into each other. He'd try to undo her corset, and try to get his hands under her skirts. She'd always giggle and push him away, not letting him go any further than kissing.

The godswood was a frequent rendezvous for the lovers, although it was more of an accidental one. When one went to pray, the other was more often than not there as well. In Jon's case, he'd catch Melodie bathing in the hot springs, a desire coursing through his veins like he'd never experienced before. He'd quickly shed his clothing and join her, covering her smirking lips with his own.

Jon yawns once more, his eyelids becoming heavy. He knows he should get some sleep, for there's no doubt that Thorne will give him a hard time tomorrow. However, he also knows that if he falls asleep, he'll dream about her, and waking up in the morn would end a lovely but painfully realistic dream. At least while he's awake, the torture is conscious, and he won't have to pull away from those thoughts.

It makes him feel better in a way. It's his strange idea of logic. It brings him comfort.

Their routine was perfected, and they went without getting caught for several months. They were always careful. Jon would make sure to finish on her belly or her thigh so as not to get her pregnant, which she always teased him for. She said she wanted an excuse to marry him.

Rickon's third name day resulted in a large and extravagant feast. Jon had managed to steal Melodie away for a few dances. One would think they were just two friends sharing a laugh, the alcohol making them move more than anything else.

But then the kissing started. He captured her lips with his after their third dance and his fourth goblet of ale. Even Melodie, who was always extremely cautious, didn't protest. Luckily, almost everyone else was drunk by then, and if anyone questioned it, the lovers would just blame it on the wine.

Soon, they were stumbling into Jon's chambers, their clothes already half-off by the time they slammed the door shut.

Jon makes his way back to the bed, flopping down, the furs smothering him. Ghost hops up onto the bed and nudges him, whining softly. Jon inches closer and buries his face into the wolf's soft, white fur.

She must hate him now. Why the hell would she wait for him? There was practically no chance of him coming back. She's probably already married by now.

Ghost wriggles out of Jon's hold, going back to his spot by the fire. Snow sighs deeply and rolls onto his back. "I guess you hate me now, too?"

Ghost only sneezes.

Jon asked Melodie what she wanted for her nameday. She would never answer, claiming that she had everything she needed. She was a stubborn little thing. A spitfire. Frankly, Jon was proud of himself; it was a wonder how he was able to handle both her and Arya.

On the eve of her fifteenth nameday, Melodie came into his room, like usual. She brought a large pitcher of wine with her, which was stolen from the kitchens, according to her boasting. "An early nameday present to myself." She declared, raising her glass for a toast.

They drank the pitcher in a dangerously short amount of time. Jon felt his head swimming, his pulse racing. He thought he would pass out at any given moment, but he managed to last for most of the night.

"We should get married, Jon Snow," Melodie hiccupped, draining her last glass. "Have a family."

"Let's go now." Jon slurred, his voice sounding foreign in his ears.

"Now?"

"Why not?" He shrugged, tossing his empty mug to the floor. "The night is young."

"We have no one to marry us." She pointed out, obviously the more sober out of the two.

"We have a godswood," he countered. "They're our vows, anyway. No one has to say them for us."

They said their vows within the hour, their speeches slurred and nonsensical. They consummated the marriage- or whatever it really was- right under the heart tree, too impatient to go back to his chambers.

In the early hours of the morn, they snuck back to the castle, trying to bite back their laughter. They knew if they woke anybody, or if anyone found them, their marriage wouldn't last that much longer.

Jon rolls onto his side, burying his face into his pillow. I shall take no wife, hold no lands father no children...

"A little late for that, I suppose." He mutters to himself, watching the flames in the hearth dance out of the corner of his eye.

If only he could change the Night's Watch vows.

Uncle Benjen came to visit when King Robert and his court came to Winterfell. Jon hadn't seen his uncle for more than five years, so him visiting was a nice surprise. He felt like he related to him more than any other of his family.

Benjen had always talked to him about joining the Night's Watch, which always excited Jon. He wanted to become a Sworn Brother ever since he could remember.

Of course, that was before he'd fallen in love with Melodie.

But his uncle was counting on him. They always talked about ranging beyond the Wall together, fighting wildings side by side. The Watch was an honorable duty.

Jon agreed to ride North with his uncle.

When he told Melodie he was leaving, she screamed and punched and kicked and begged him to stay. His heart broke when he saw her cry. And it hurt even more knowing he was the one to cause her this pain.

She cried when they made love that night, knowing it would be the last time. He whispered over and over again that he loved her, though it brought neither of them comfort. She clung onto him tightly, sobbing as he held her the entire night.

She eventually got out of bed and pulled on her clothes, her eyes bloodshot and her throat raw. Jon stayed in bed, watching her, trying to memorize the scene. She crawled back into bed once she was dressed, carding her fingers through his hair.

"I'm so sorry." Jon breathed against her neck, tracing random patterns on her back with his fingertips.

"So am I." Melodie sniffled, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

He took her small hands in his and brought them to his lips. "I love you so much." She kissed away his silent tears that had begun to fall.

She pulled away and smiled sadly, her eyes watery. "Not enough to make you stay, I'm afraid."