The Warden's Duty

Their wedding night had been handled delicately.

Jon stuttered apologies so often they'd began to feel like a prayer. When he finally pierced her Jon used the pads of his thumbs to wipe the tears from Laien's cheeks, only moving when Laien whispered her consent. He kept his pace slow and his eyes on hers, urging her to let him know if she was alright.

He was a true gentleman, just as Sansa promised.

It didn't take as long as Laien thought it would for Jon to finish, and no words were spoken as he pulled himself from her. Laien shivered and quickly pulled the furs around her to shield her naked form from the cold. Jon done the same after his breathing had leveled, and then there was silence.

Laien had closed her eyes to block out some of the shame she felt - she wondered how long it would take for her to become comfortable being nude around Jon. She also couldn't help but wonder if she'd pleased him.

When Laien opened her again she was met with Jon's sleeping form.

He was truly a very handsome man, Laien surmised as she looked him over. She had no qualms about the look of her new husband, he was smaller than some, but stout. She knew that when he held her to him in his blind pleasure earlier that night. She remembered the look in his eyes before the screwed shut - although brown eyes were prominent in Dorne she didn't think she'd ever seen a pair as dark as Jon's.

And his hair - Laien didn't think she'd ever seen hair so beautiful before! Laien silently wondered that when were to finally produce an heir whether it'd blessed with his dark curls or her thick, straight mane.

Jon turned toward her in his sleep, and for a moment she was mortified that she'd been caught leering at him. Laien snapped her eyes closed, hoping to feign sleep if he questioned her. She lay quietly for a time, carefully breathing through the lump in her throat. She listened to his breathing - it was peaceful and even. He was still asleep. Laien peeked through the eye closest to him and nearly cried when she saw she hadn't been caught.

The fur he was wrapped in fell down his chest a bit when he moved, just enough so that she could see a thick, angry scar that lay just over his heart.

"Gods," Laien whispered. Her hand eased toward him on it's own accord and before she knew it her fingers were hovering over his chest, itching to reach out to touch the deep gash, just to see the deep gash was real.

Jon let out a snore louder than the rest, and Laien took it as a sign - she was pushing her limits - so she tucked her hand beneath the coverlet with a sigh.

Laien had noticed, during the consummation, the scars that littered his face and wondered how he'd gotten each of them. Was there a noble story behind each cut or were they simply childhood injuries?

With the scars on his face coupled with the ones that littered his torso, Laien now knew that the man beside her had seen hard battles. She was curious to how many he'd seen.

What had almost killed Jon Targaryen?

Jon suddenly grunted and swung his arm heavily onto her stomach. Laien let out a puff of air, and tried to lay as still as she could so she wouldn't wake him - she didn't think she could let him take his pleasure again that night.

Once soft snores began to pass his parted lips again, Laien wondered how long she'd been watching him sleep in the light of the moon.

With time her eyes began to sag shut and she found herself relaxing beneath the warmth of his arm. Then, without another thought of her handsome, scarred husband, she let sleep claim her.



Three sharp, sudden knocks on the door caused Laien to startle. She gasped and her eyes popped open. Jon's arm was still around her, but now she lay face to face with them man. She was surprised to see that he was looking at her as she woke.

Jon growled in response to the noise at the door and wrapped a robe around him quickly, uttering an apology to his new wife.

Laien watched as he strolled to the door, the muscles in his back tensing a bit before he swung it open. She clutched the fur tighter against her chest and tried to peek around Jon to see who'd knocked.

"Can I help you?" Jon asked, his voice tight.

A maid bowed at the waist outside the door. "My apologizes, my lord. Lady Sansa asked that I bring you a change of linen and water for my lady's bath."

Jon turned his head toward Laien, his eyes lingering for a moment. "Of course. Give us a moment to ready ourselves."

"My lord," the maid bowed deeply.

Laien eased off the bed, the coverlet still pulled tight against her, and groaned at the pulsing throb between her legs. An involuntary hiss left her lips as she moved again, and she didn't dare look up.

"Are you alright?" Jon asked quietly.

Laien nodded and stared at the bed. The only remnant of her childhood stained their linen red. She knew the maid required the sheets to confirm she was no longer a maiden - it was ritual. "Yes, I'm fine. J-Just a bit sore."

"My lady, please," Jon urged with a cautious step forward, "if there is anything I can do for you do not hesitate to ask. I am your husband now. I will do right by you."

Laien gave him a tight lipped smile. "I know you will."

"I have a few things I have to attend to. When I am finished I will bring you breakfast." Jon offered. "The maid will be here shortly with your water."

Laien gave a short nod. "Thank you, my lord."



In the few days since their arrival Lhars hadn't gotten to know anyone in the castle save Jon's younger sister Arya. He'd connected with the girl instantly, it seemed, pleasantly surprised by her fighting skills.

Laien had watched the spar through the window of her room, and bit back a chuckle when Arya's thin, pointed blade found the side of her brother's neck.

"You brother is a formidable fighter," Jon's voice came from beside her.

Laien pressed her hand against her chest, startled by his sudden presence, but she nodded all the same. "Yes, but Arya is more so. Lhars is a very prideful man. He won't take a loss from a young girl easily."

Jon snorted. "None do."

Laien turned toward Jon, a small smile on her lips at the tray he held in his hands. "You really didn't have to, my lord."

The tray was covered in Dornish exports - blood oranges, pomegranates, olives and even a small piece of chicken. A goblet of Dornish Red sat on the side, begging her to take a sip.

"You would let me have you starve?" Jon jested lightly, with a nod toward their bed. "Your brother told me blood oranges were your favorite. We'll send for more once the shipments start coming regularly if you wish?"

Laien took the wine and sipped at it for a moment before offering it to Jon. "That would please me, my lord."

"Please, Jon is fine." He took a sip of the wine and winced. "This is more sour than I thought."

Laien chuckled. "It's the finest wine in the Seven Kingdoms."

"I'd rather have ale," Jon admitted.

It was Laien's turn to snort at him. "You Northerners."

"You are a Northerner now," Jon replied softly. "Our children will be Northerners."

Laien reach for the goblet again. "When is my brother to make his leave?"

"Tomorrow morning," Jon said quietly. "You can go to him if you wish, spend your final day together before he leaves."

Laien blinked slowly and took a deep, shaky breath. "I think I will. Thank you Jon."

Jon gave a small nod and watched as she left the room.



Laien and Lhars' day went quickly, and it seemed like only hours before they were standing at the gates of Winterfell locked in a tight embrace.

"Come now, dear sister," Lhars chided with a bitter smile. "We will see each other again, do not worry."

Laien sobbed. "I will miss you, Lhars."

"And I you, Laien, but you are a wife now. You will become a mother before you know it and you'll have little wolves to chase around. They will fill my place in your heart, I am sure." Lhars said gently, his hand rubbing down her back.

Laien shook her head sadly. "No one will take your place, brother."

"I will write you as much as I can," Lhars promised with a kiss on her forehead. "Keep your Warden in line, Sister."

Laien nodded and stepped back into line with Jon and Sansa. She felt an arm on her shoulders and before she knew it she was being pulled into a tight hug. Through her tears she could tell it was Sansa by her hair of fire, so Laien wrapped her arms around the girl's waist and buried her head in Sana's shoulder - she didn't think she could watch her brother ride away from her.

The sound of hooves hitting the ice filled her ears and when she next looked up the only thing left were hoof prints in the snow. Tears leaked from Laien's eyes and threatened to freeze to her face.

"Come, Laien," Jon whispered as Sansa handed her off to him. He rubbed her back gently. "Let's go home."