Episode one: A Cold Whisper {Game of Thrones} (COMPLETED)

Beck

*Flashback*

She swung her sword at the red haired man, he blocked her attack with his wooden shield, and knocked her to the floor.

"Beck!" she complained, after landing in the wet dirt.

"I'm not going easy on you," he replied, "in a real fight against a murderous wildling, or worse, do you think they'll go easy on you?"

Wylla picked up her sword and stood up. She looked saddened. Her hair looked greener under the glow of the forest. It was tied back in a braid except for a single strand that fell across her left eye. Her thin, pink lips were curved downward in a pout. She rolled her eyes, greener than her hair, then closed them tight.

"I'm rubbish," she stated simply, "I'll never be as good as you."
She looked up at Beck.

He scoffed, "not with that attitude."
Wylla bowed her head, "I wish I were a boy."

Beck was slightly taken aback.

"I don't," he said automatically.

There was an awkward, tense break in the conversation. Wylla held back a grin and Beck's face was gradually turning as red as his hair.

"As in - you're perfect the way you are - I mean - I didn't mean nothing by it - my lady." Beck stuttered and started feeling very hot, despite the freezing cold and icy weather. Wylla let out a laugh.

"My lady? Right..." she raised her eyebrows, "shall we try again then?" she saved Beck from his embarrassment.

"Definitely!" he chirped. Wylla giggled.

After another hour or so of practicing with the wooden swords, Wylla and Beck sat down beside one another on a frost covered tree stump.

"It's a shame Wynafryd couldn't come." Beck said, wiping snowflakes from his eyelashes as it began to lightly snow. Wylla looked disheartened at this.

"Why is it a shame?" she grunted.

"Oh, um, I just thought it would've been good for her, y'know, learning to hunt and fight and all. Good for both of you."

Wylla turned her head around to face him.

"If you were Wendel's real son, you'd have been my cousin." Wylla said to Beck, their faces so close he could feel her hot breath on his cheek. He barely even registered what she had said, due to the close proximity of their lips.
"You're not my cousin." Wylla whispered in his ear, "we aren't related. I'm happy Wynafred isn't here."

She sucked on Beck's earlobe.

All he could think about was her. Her existence, her body, her breath on his neck and lips on his ear.

"No..." she groaned in his ear, "not like this." she spoke to herself.

Wylla pulled away, green eyes fluttering. She bounced up off the stump, "let's get back to New Castle," she said, and crunched through the thin layer of fresh snow.

But Beck was still in the moment. His whole body quivered, but not because of the cold.