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"Seven hells!"

Aneira let out a grunt as she stabbed the needle directly into the soft flesh of her forefinger. Of course, it was completely by accident that she had injured herself, but it still hurt nonetheless. Her gaze fell from the stitching she had been attempting to complete to her finger. A bead of blood seeped from the small prick in her finger and she couldn't tear her eyes away from the shining warm liquid, even with Sansa calling her name from beside her.

Breaking free from the daze, Aneira lifted her finger quickly into her mouth in hopes that the droplet of blood did not get onto the project she was working on. She didn't want to start from the beginning again and knew if Septa Mordane spotted the red stain she would have to do just that.

"You have been doing this longer than I have, Annie." Sansa giggled again, her bright eyes passing the older girl as she peeked over at her younger sister, Arya, who looked just as agitated as Aneira.

"And you are much better at it than I." Aneira sighed deeply with her statement, turning to look at Sansa as she then wiped the moisture from her finger onto the skirts of her dress. "Ask me to beat your brothers in a duel, though, and I may come out of that victorious."

Arya smirked at that. "I agree. I've watched you kick Robb's ar-"

"Ladies!" Septa Mordane cut them off, stopping Arya from using the language that the Septa forbade in her presence.

All three fell silent, turning away from one another as they put all of their attention back onto the Septa. Truly, all Aneira wanted to do was finish this lesson so she could meet with Jon in the stables. They had both agreed to go for a ride with one another after their separate lessons. They had it down to the exact second of absolute freedom of the watching eyes of Speta Mordane and Jon's father, Lord Eddard Stark.

She longed to feel the wind through her hair, the cold air nipping at her nose and providing a light dusting of red across her cheeks.

The moment Septa Mordane dismissed them from the lesson, Aneira stood up and rushed through the door, beating Sansa and Arya to the courtyard with a smile full of glee. Her eyes fell upon Jon and Robb, both locked into their training with Theon watching from atop his spot of the bales of hay.

"Just a spectator today, Greyjoy?" Aneira snuck up on the other ward of Winterfell, a smirk tugging up on the corners of her lips.

Theon jumped slightly, glancing down at the girl with an annoyed expression upon his face. "They haven't stopped." He admitted, though still annoyed at Aneira mentioning this out loud. "The bastard has knocked Robb do-"

"What did you call him?" Aneira sneered as she cut off the rest of what Theon was going to tell her, her eyes slinging daggers as she rounded on him.

"Bastard." He repeated shamelessly.

Aneira simply could not help herself. She reached forward and grabbed onto the edges of Theon's furs. With one swift pull, the heir of the Iron Islands was sprawled out on the dirt ground. Which, if you asked Aneira, is exactly where he belonged. She despised Theon Greyjoy and if ever asked why the answer would be simple. It was always Jon Snow.

All Aneira could see was red as she stared down at Theon. Her hands were tightly clenched into fists and she only looked away when she felt a hand slide down her arm and grab onto her fist. Without having to look at who it was, she knew. Jon had always had a calming touch, even if his hands were rough and calloused from all of the sword training and working in the forge. Slowly her fingers uncurled, extending her hand out of the fist she had so badly wished she could have hit Theon with.

"Annie." Jon whispered, "It's okay."

"It is not okay." She hissed back, her eyes falling onto Robb as he helped Theon up. The eldest Stark looked down at her with a disapproving frown. "Don't look at me like that, Robb. He deserved it. He treats people like the muck beneath his boots and I am simply tired of it."

Robb shook his head. "You are a lady, Aneira. You should not put your hands on anyone like that."

At that, Aneira rolled her eyes. "That is ridiculous, Robb." She told him, getting ready to open her mouth to explain why she disagreed but they were interrupted by an authoritative voice.

"Boys, you're with me. There is something that needs to be attended to. Jon, can you rope in your brother, Bran? I'd like for him to come with us." Lord Eddard Stark waved to the group before turning to Aneira, "Lady Catelyn could use your help with Arya, Aneira."

"Why can't I join you?" Aneira asked, a brow poised high into her forehead as she looked over at Jon, his hand slipped away from hers and suddenly she could feel the cold. Before, when his hand was on hers, all she could feel was warmth. Warmth coming only from his body, or possibly something more. She didn't have enough time to think more of it.

"It is not a situation for a lady such as yourself, Aneira." Ned sighed. It was written all over his face that he knew this was not going to be an easy fight to win with the girl.

"But it is appropriate for a young boy like Bran?"

"Annie," Jon whispered, reaching for her hand once more before she stepped away from him. She was now out of reach, though her head turned to the side so she could meet his gaze.

"No, it's alright Jon." Ned raised a hand to Jon, gesturing for him to cease his pleas to the girl. "Lady Aneira is right, which is why I will allow her to join us."

Aneira smiled triumphantly as her spine straightened just a hair length more. She turned to look at Robb and Theon, ignoring the lecherous gaze from the Greyjoy heir, and giving Robb a smug smirk. He had always tried to keep her out of things, whereas Jon always wanted to include her. She always assumed it was because Robb was permanently annoyed that she always bested him in skills that he believed no woman should have.

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Once they reached the hill, Aneira had wrapped herself protectively in her furs. The wind was sharp, stinging her cheeks and coating them in a deep red blush. Her eyes fell upon Bran, the young boy remaining still with his feet firmly planted into the earth beneath them. She could see he was not only worried about being here, but worried about what he would have to bear witness to.

"There was a deserter from the wall." Ned had explained, his hands hidden beneath his furs to stay warm for the time being.

Robb looked quite anxious, though seemingly thrilled to be involved in such a thing. After all, he would be the next Lord of Winterfell. He would have to become accustomed to everything he would need to be involved in with that change in title.

Aneira watched the deserter be brought up, the two guards holding firmly onto his thin arms as his feets dragged the slightest bit in the dirt. It was no surprise to Aneira that the punishment for being a deserter was death. It did not make it any easier to witness, though.

Subconsciously she took a step closer towards Robb - the Winterfell heir being her next best option for support as Jon was holding onto Bran. As her fingers gently brushed against Robb's, her eyes met his as he wrapped his fingers around hers. "Do you wish you were back in Deepwood Motte?" Robb whispered, not trying to mock her fear in any way.

Aneira opened her mouth to speak but was cut off as she heard Ned begin to speak to the deserter. She gave Robb's hand a squeeze in return and quickly glanced back at Jon and Bran, who were only two steps behind her. Jon had adverted his gaze, focusing on the ground beneath him. Forlornly, Aneira turned back around and continued to hold onto Robb's hand.

She had been living in Winterfell for the last eight years. Deepwood Motte had been her home as a young girl, but it never truly felt like home. There were no other children of her station, atleast not when she was growing up. Her uncle, Robett and his wife Sybelle, have had their two children, Gawen and Erena, only recently.

She had just returned from her first and only visitation to her ancestral home, too. The babes were beautiful, and she had to have the hard discussion with her Uncles about no longer being the heir of House Glover. That burden now belonged to the babe of barely one year of age, Gawen. Aneira was not upset about this, though. After all, she didn't want to marry for political gain. And although she was of age, a beautiful maiden of seven-and-ten - she also did not want to leave Winterfell.

She didn't want to leave Jon.

It had become rather obvious early on in her life at Winterfell that she held a close bond with Ned's bastard. She was one of the few who did not look at him like that - for what he was. Aneira treated Jon as though he were Lord of Winterfell. She held him in the highest regard, as he did the same for her.

"I know I broke my oath." The man spoke, his body tremblingly with fear. Aneira was not sure fear of what - or who. "I know I'm a deserter and that I should have gone back to the wall and warned them."

Aneira squeezed Robb's hand, longing for it to belong to someone else. Robb's touch was comforting in a sense, but not what she had been looking for.

She almost began to drift off, into her own head, before she heard the man say white walkers. She could not help but bristle, remembering the stories that Old Nan used to tell the children when they were younger. She quickly glanced over her shoulder, meeting Jon's gaze. They held it there, unblinking, for a moment or two longer before she turned back around.

The man had asked Ned to apologize to his family and Aneira felt her stomach lurch. She pulled her hand from Robb's and placed it over her mouth. Ignoring the smirk and stare from Theon, who seemed all too excited about the execution that would be happening, she turned and began to walk down the hill.

She could hear the rustling of armor as the guards took hold of the deserter and pressed him down to the chopping block. Aneira didn't get very far, though, Jon had reached forward and grabbed onto her furs. When she stopped and looked at him, she could only shake her head.

"You wanted to be involved. So you must stay." He told her, firmly. His voice mirrored the same authoritative tone as his fathers had earlier so she immediately fell into place beside him, clutching onto his arm as the sound of the sword known as 'Ice' being unsheathed from its home in the scabbard in Theon's hands.

"In the name of Robert of House Baratheon. First of his name..."

"Don't look away." Jon whispered, speaking to both Aneira and Bran. "Father will know if you do."

Aneira began chewing away at the inside of her cheek. She had never seen an execution before. Death, natural death atleast, was different and it was something she had witnessed and oddly enough was comfortable with.

Time had stood still atop that hill for Aneira. Her eyes followed the swing of Ned's sword and she clamped her mouth shut to not allow her gasp to escape. Though she was holding onto Jon tightly, she felt alone. The color drained from her face as she met the wide, dead stare of the man who had been slated to die for leaving his post. His head, now separated from his body, rolled a few feet away from the force of being severed with the large sword.

"You did well." Jon told Bran, his eyes falling onto Aneira as he guided her away from the hill. Robb had already began to turn around and bring their younger brother with him, as well.

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Aneira had no need for supper that night. She sat in the hall, idly playing with the broth in her bowl, spinning the spoon round and round. She kept her head propped up with the fist of her left hand, replaying the execution over and over again in her mind.

"Jon?" She finally spoke up, turning in her chair to look at her friend.

"What is it?"

"If the white walkers have been gone for thousands of years," Aneira paused and set her spoon down gently, avoiding any unwanted attention on the two, "what could have made that man desert his post at the wall?"

"Some men are not loyal."

Aneira wasn't sure why his short answers were bugging her but they were. She went to ask him what was bothering him before Theon, across the table, interrupted them.

"If you had to take an oath of celibacy, you'd eventually do the same." He cackled, nudging Robb with a smirk on his face.

"Not every man wants to be a whore, Theon." Aneira snapped, glaring at him.

Robb hid the blush on his cheeks, nudging Theon back.

"A bastard like Snow can fuck anyone he wants to because he has no duty to his house. I would take full advantage of that." Theon hummed, sticking his fork full of meat into his mouth.

Aneira clenched her fists, willing herself to calm down and not leap over the table and tackle Theon onto the floor. Every night she would pray to the gods that Theon would wake up and forget how to speak. And every morning she would be disappointed.

"You fuck anything with two legs and a pair of tits, Theon. You surely still have duty to House Greyjoy, no?" She cut back, leaning her hands on the table as she stood tall.

"Why? You want to know what it's like to be with a man?" Theon stood up as well, teasingly putting his hands on the ties to his breeches.

"Theon, that's enough." Robb finally spoke up, glaring up at his friend before glancing over at Aneira. He sighed deeply and looked to Jon. Silently, and with only a nod of his head towards the door, Robb gestured for his half-brother to take his leave with Aneira.

"Annie, let's go." Jon stood up and placed a hand on Aneira's back. His touch was soft yet warm and it brought her back down from the rage that boiled inside for Theon Greyjoy.

She met his gaze, finally looking at Jon. His eyes were normally dark, but right now she could see the light in them. She could always see the warmth and love, and she gave him a small smile. She refused to give Theon another moment of her time, keeping her head angled to Jon as they exited the hall.

The bitter air hit her cheeks and she immediately wrapped her arms around herself for warmth with a sigh escaping her lips in a fog of breath. "You must think me a child, Jon. I don't know why I let him get to me that way. He just... he is aggravating and I find that I cannot help but try to put him in his place."

"You do not need to apologize to me. I can't say I'm not proud when you do put him in his place. He's an arse." Jon offered her a smile as they continued on their way through the halls of Winterfell.

"He's a pig." Aneira corrected him, though a laugh was released as she got a smirk out of her friend. Their rooms were not far from one another, but Jon had decided to walk Aneira to her room. "Nothing seems to be sacred with him. And I fear his dirty thoughts have infiltrated Robb's mind. He was a good boy once, you know that."

"Annie, he is not a boy anymore. Neither am I, just as you are no longer a girl." Jon followed her into her living quarters, glad that the fire in the corner had just recently been stoked. It was already quite warm and Aneira shed all of her outer layers quickly.

"You can still be a decent person, Jon. Do you not want your first time to be with someone you care for? Someone that you love?" Aneira sat at the desk against the furthest wall from him, her back to him as she began to take down her hair from the spirals and ties it had been pulled up with. She raked the small bristled brush through her long locks, finally turning to look at Jon after being met with silence to her question.

"Well?" She repeated, raising a brow as she met his gaze. He looked rather solemn, his chocolate eyes boring into hers before he looked away to the flames.

"I don't have an opinion on the matter." He told her, his shoulders lifting and sagging down quickly in a shrug.

"Very well." She hummed, turning back to set her brush down and stand back up from her desk. She crossed the room slowly and moved her hands to Jon's cheeks, "Please do not let his words affect you. You are a good man, Jon. You are not a bas-"

"No, but I am a bastard, Annie. Everyone knows it. I am not and never will be a Lord of Winterfell. I am just Jon Snow." Jon told her firmly, his hands wrapped around her wrists as he pulled her hands away from his face.

They stood in silence for a moment before Aneira leaned forward and gently pressed her lips against his cheek. She was dangerously close to the corner of his lips but she quickly pulled back at the sound of footsteps nearing her room.

"Jon Snow is enough for me."

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I just wanted to let everyone know that I will be switching around the timeline of certain events just to better fit the way I want to tell Aneira's story! (i.e., they found the direwolves right after the execution in the first episode - but I did not have the occur in my first chapter.)

Hope you enjoyed and are excited to follow along with Aneira's journey - just as excited as I am to write it. I have so many ideas!