𝐻𝐸𝑅𝑂𝑖𝑁𝐸 | 𝐽𝑜𝑛 𝑆𝑛𝑜𝑤

eleven.

"𝙎𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙙𝙤 𝙪𝙣𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙪𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨"

Jon Snow was late.

Ashara was angry. That was all she felt. It was way past the morning, and Jon had yet to show his face in the courtyard. For the past few hours she had been sat on a snowy tree stump, twiddling her thumbs, waiting for the man to show. She knew she could train by herself but the idea bored her. She needed some challenge, but the man that would challenge her was nowhere to be found.

Finally getting tired of waiting, Ashara kicked the dummy next to her, letting it fall harshly on the snow. She scoffed at the dummy and walked away, stomping her way into the common room, where the men drank when the dining hall was closed. Pushing through the door, she was met with someone's hard chest and her being off her guard, was sent flying on her arse, landing harder than the dummy did in the snow. The cold weather seeped through her breaches and made her lower half wet. Looking up she met the deep brown eyes she'd been waiting for all morning and most of the afternoon.

Jon swiftly tried to help her up, but she quickly refused.

"I've got it Snow; I don't need your help." She scoffed, not wanting to look at him.

"Ara, I was just coming to find you, we can train now." He spoke kindly, not realising that she was mad with him.

"I don't want to train anymore." She looked at him for the first time, seeing the confusion cloud over his eyes.

"Why not? When I spoke with Tormund earlier you seemed excited?" Jon questioned whilst looking in her eyes, trying to find a way through into that mysterious head of hers.

"Don't leave a lady waiting Snow, because she won't wait forever." Were the final words she said to him. Ashara gave him one last look before setting off to the library to find the Maester. She needed to get her wounds re-dressed, and she wanted to be away from Jon.

Jon was left puzzled by this woman, yet again. He shook his head and made his way back into the common room, finding himself needing a drink all of a sudden.

----

Ashara was sat in her room, writing a small letter to her mother. She spoke about how she was now the furthest north she'd ever been, and how cold it was. Ashara longed for the taste of Dornish wine and the feeling of the sun on her skin. But the thing she wanted the most was her mothers warming hands. It had been too long, and now that Ashara was free from Ramsay's tight grasp, she could go where she pleased.

However, she felt she owed Jon Snow and his men first. They took her in when she was at her weakest, when she had 3 arrows sticking out her back. Without these men she wouldn't be breathing right now.

Finishing her letter, Ashara placed the quill next to the pot of ink and moved herself from the chair. She felt the need to stretch, feeling cramp build in her muscles from being sat writing the letter for so long. As she reached down to touch her toes, the door swung open revealing Ser Davos on the other side.

The were both in an uncomfortable position, Davos staring at Ashara's behind as she stretched, and Ashara looking at Davos, watching his face turn a slight crimson red.

"Davos." She said, returning to her natural standing position.

"A-Ara, Jon has asked for your presence in the great hall. He wishes to deliver a message to his bannermen and the rest of the men at Castle Black." Davos struggled to get his words out, feeling awkward about what had just happened.

"Escort me then, if you would Ser Davos Seaworth." Ashara smiled at the poor man, his face returning to a more normal colour. She linked her arm through his as she shut the door behind her, not before grabbing the small piece of parchment that she had just written on.

"What's that? Writing letters to a secret lover?" Davos quizzed, making Ashara blush this time.

"No, it's a letter to my mother. I haven't seen her since I was 14, but I still write her a letter every month in hopes she's still alive." She spoke from the heart. She felt as if she could trust Davos. He had a calming sense about him.

"Does she still live in Dorne?" He questioned as they made their way to the hall, but neither of them being in a great rush.

"I think so, she always told me how much she loved it there, so I doubt she would up and leave." Ashara spoke, picturing the woman in her mind. It brought a smile to her face.

"Did she look like you?" Davos asked further. She wouldn't normally be so open about these questions but she felt she had to tell someone at some point, but she refused to let her guard down fully.

"It was as if I was her replica. The only thing I got from my father was my fighting skills and my strategic way of thinking." Ashara had always longed to know her father, who he was, if he was alive, if he longed to know her too.

"She must be beautiful too. And your father must have been a great fighter too, if you posses the skills you do, he must have been one of the best the land had seen."

"All I know is that he was a Dornish man, who had fought for a special man. A special man, but one that was mad. That's all my mother ever told me. I've never known who he was, my mother believed it would put me in danger."

As soon as the words left her lips, Davos whipped his head around and looked at her. She couldn't be. Davos had seen her fight and train, and she moved in the same way he did. Davos had never seen the man, but he once told tales to his young son, tales of the Dornish warrior.

Davos knew who her father was. The greatest warrior to ever live.

Her father was Ser Arthur Dayne, the greatest knight Westeros and Essos had ever seen.

———

The first of many of Asharas secrets has been revealed!! Hope you guys are still enjoying this story ❤️