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They slept close. At least, not far enough for his whispers to be as quiet as they should have been, if he had been careful. But he wasn't; never enough careful. Of that, he knew nothing.
It seemed to her now that he was whispering for her as well, hiding his voice for everyone except for himself and the warmth of a wolf that no longer slept at his side - it was where she had found her place now. Yet she was no replacement - neither for his blood, nor for his crow friends.
It was difficult to understand his ways. Beside a woman, who was stroking him 'neath his clothes, he turned his back at night. Whispered.
She knew what he was whispering about. It was those oaths of his, couldn't let go of them, he couldn't.
"...my watch begins, it shall not end until my death..."
She wished to call out his name, for him to turn and see her, forget about his words and oaths, lay with her and take new oaths, ones he would never even have to speak. Never have to mumble if she'd go without him.
"...I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children..."
"Quiet, Jon Snow", she whispered, almost as low as him.
He fell silent.
"Are you scared I'll call you traitor?", she teased, and put an arm as far around him as she reached. "For sayin' some words in the dark?"
He said nothing.
"Look here, Jon Snow." She made him turn around, and she showed him her cold skin, took his hand to touch it. "You need no words like that where we are now." She could see him still thinking; head still elsewhere. "Only this."
Jon Snow was a bastard, some lord's at that; he was a crow of the Night's Watch; he only pretended to be brave when he sheathed a sword; and he knew nothing. But he was also a man - even if that meant he was like no other men, he was still one, and it meant that for as long as the night lived, she would have him.
For as long as the night lived.