#this post isn’t even about benjen help. stopping myself

[wallboys]

i think the decades of r+l=j theorizing has made us forget a little that ned made more than one promise to lyanna (one of those promises being him vowing to protect her child is still technically a theory as well). ned also promised to bring her home

[sansa-of-oldstones]

In The Chaos - Ch. 9

I still refuse to abandon.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2/ Chapter 3 / Chapter 4/ Chapter 5/ Chapter 6/ Chapter 7/ Chapter 8

Also on Ao3

-

She stomps through the ice and snow. She doesn’t even regret rejecting Jon’s offer of a ride. As if Sansa would want to be anywhere near him right now. She thought they had shared something special, but she was wrong. Sansa thought it was leading somewhere, but all it had done was hurt her.

She’s waiting at a crosswalk when a car beeps at her, and pulls over. It’s her car. Sam rolls down the window, and smiles at her. She stares blankly at him, her breath billowing in the cold air.

“Did Jon not tell you I was bringing your car?”

“No, no he didn’t.” She walks over to driver side door, and opens it. Sam is confused. “Well, you’ve brought me my car.”

“What did he do?” Sam sighs. “Why are you out walking in this?”

“You’ll have to ask your friend.” Sansa taps impatiently on the roof. “I would like to go home now.”

“Can you make a detour to Fort Black?” Sam pleads, holding up a tray of travel cups. “I’m not built for this weather, and I picked up coffee.”

“How have you made it this long in The Watch?” She takes one of the coffees, and he unbuckles himself to move to the passenger seat.

“I never wanted to enlist.” Sam shares. “I never wanted this. I want to be a psychiatrist, but my father said he wouldn’t pay. He told me to be a real doctor. My grades and exams didn’t exactly book any scholarships. So, here I am. In a couple years, they’ll pay for my education.”

“You showed him.” Sansa digs, and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m angry and hungover.”

“It’s okay.” Sam tells her. “Do you need to talk about it?”

She shakes her head and drives.

“The problem is that I’m an enabler.” Sam tries after a few moments of silence. “I knew Jon wouldn’t be comfortable at the party, but Gilly heard it was his birthday, so I nagged him to go.”

“He seemed perfectly comfortable to me.”

“That was after a few drinks.” Sam shrugs. “Strong ones at that. I should have put a stop to it when I saw him pouring. I was going to, I know he’d want me to, but he actually looked happy.”

“If he wants to drink and smoke himself to death, that’s his choice.”

“He doesn’t want to.” Sam argues. “He’d stopped drinking. He was working on other ways to cope.”

“I have very little sympathy for Jon and his pity parties at the moment.”

“Jon has a lot of scars you can’t see.” Sam sighs. “I thought your uncle would have told you.”

“He wouldn’t even tell me where Jon was deployed to because it was classified.”

It still aggravates her to this very day.

“Well, I can’t give you many details, but they were ambushed, and Jon was taken captive.”

“He was?”

“For five months.” Sam fidgets, and hesitates. This is very uncomfortable for him, and Sansa focuses on the road. She wants to be angry with Jon, but Sam is making it difficult. The only person she is angrier with than Jon is her uncle. She doesn’t care if she isn’t able to drive back to Winterfell today. She will be having a conversation with her Uncle Benjen. “He was in the hospital for weeks after they found him. Then rehab. It was pretty awful. It brought up a lot of terrible things for him. He’s been in treatment with a therapist since his psych evaluation to return to service. I go with him, because he doesn’t want to go alone. It hasn’t been easy for him. It’s never been easy for him.”

“I know.” It still doesn’t give him the right to treat her like she’s disposable. “I told him not to join. I begged him not to.”

“He told you what happened to his mother?” Sam wonders. “His brother?”

“No.” Sansa is glad they’re stopped at a red light. She thought she knew Jon. She knows nothing. She leans back against the headrest, entirely overwhelmed. “I thought he was an only child.”

“I’ve done it now.” Sam groans. “He trusted me, and I went and blabbed to you.”

“I won’t say anything.” Sansa promises. “It’s not like I’ll be speaking to him anytime soon.”

“Don’t give up on him.”

“Why do you care?”

“He’s my friend.” Sam explains. “I care about him. I’ve also never seen him as happy as he was last night.”

“That was the alcohol.”

“It wasn’t.” Sam disagrees. “I am well aquatinted with drunk Jon, and he can be a happy drunk on occasion, but never that happy.”

“Well, he wasn’t happy this morning.” Sansa huffs. “I’m not going to feel guilty for needing to distance myself from him right now. I tried to help him. I tried to help him for years.”

“Did you, though?”

“I did!” Now, she’s angry with Sam. “I told him...”

“You told him.” Sam interrupts. “You told him what you believe would help. I beg your pardon, but that isn’t the same thing. I know it was a rough morning, but he’s doing alright. He knows what works for him.”

She had flat out asked him what she could do to help, many times.

“I don’t think he knows.” Sansa rolls her eyes. “I don’t think he’ll ever know.”

“He knows.” Sam tells her. “He’s perfectly capable of it. He struggles, and it wears on him, but he’s working on it every day. He doesn’t need someone acting like he isn’t.”

“Can we please talk about something else?”

“Of course.” Sam nods. “What are you studying at Queenscrown?”

“Social work.” Sansa answers. “We were lucky. I want to help people who aren’t so lucky.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“I know what you’re thinking.” Sansa scowls. “I want to help people, but you think I’m giving up on Jon. I’m not giving up on him, I just don’t want to be around him.”

“I was thinking a lot of people will be very fortunate to have you in their lives.”

“He wasn’t like this before.” Sansa laments. “I don’t understand how you could say he’s doing alright.”

“I go to therapy with Jon so he’ll go.” Sam reminds her. “I got him Ghost. That took ages. I had to get it approved by The Watch and the organization that trained Ghost. I had to prove Jon needs him. He loves that dog.”

“He’s a service dog.” Sansa had no idea, but it did explain a lot about Ghost’s behavior. When she saw the pictures Jon posted, she thought he was trained to work with Jon and his team. “He wasn’t trained by The Watch.”

“No.”

“You’re a good friend.” Sansa isn’t sure at the moment if Jon deserves a friend like Sam, but she is glad he’s there.

Sam shows his ID at the gate, and she drops him off before parking closer to where her uncle’s office is.

She hands her identification to the MP at the entryway, and places her purse on the conveyor belt to be scanned. People see the name on her visitor’s pass, and do not question her presence. She is Benjen Stark’s niece. She marches right past his secretary, who does attempt to stop her, and walks into his office.

He’s sitting at his desk, reading a file.

“Jon was captured?!” No pleasantries. She needed to get what she was feeling out.

“Good morning.” He closes the file. “Happy New Year.”

“I don’t care how classified it is, you’re going to tell me.”

“Sansa, I’m sorry.” He motions to one of the chairs in front of his desk. “You’re a civilian.”

“I hate that word.” She reluctantly sits. “I’m not leaving until you tell me.”

“You’ll be sitting there for a long time.”

“You promised.” Sansa pouts. “You promised me you would take care of him.”

“There’s only so much I can control.” Uncle Benjen sighs, and stands to close the door. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but if it will help you understand, I will. Jon’s team was collecting intel on an extremist group near Hardhome. They were ambushed. We’re still not sure how. Our best guess is someone who arranged travel for the team. Jon knew exactly what he was signing up for when decided to become a Ranger. He saved a lot of lives that day. He’s a hero.”

“I care about his life.” She could not care less about a medal on his dress uniform. It did not erase his suffering. “I care about him.”

“He was rescued.” He reminds her. “He’s okay.”

“He isn’t okay.” Sansa blinks away the tears. “You didn’t tell me. I trusted you.”

“Jon shouldn’t have told you either.”

“He didn’t.” Sansa scoffs. “I’m not telling you who did. That’s classified.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“He was missing for months, and I didn’t know.” She felt a sob shake her. “What if he had died? What would you have told me then?”

“You were getting ready to graduate.” Uncle Benjen defends himself. “I didn’t want to upset you.”

“Is that why he wasn’t at my graduation? You had no idea where he was, and the gods know what was happening to him?” She had been angry with him about that too. Uncle Benjen finds some tissues for her. “He’d told me he’d try to go. I was mad at him! He was probably being tortured, and I was mad at him! Because you didn’t tell me!”

“I couldn’t tell you.”

“You should have.”

She dabs her eyes with a tissue, and Uncle Benjen squeezes her shoulder. She wants to start this new year over.

-

I love Sam in this chapter. He brings up a very valid point. Something Sansa really needed to hear. It’s a hard lesson to learn, and please remember she is young. This was very difficult for her. Everything she thought she knew has been flipped upside-down. Also, she’s understandably heartbroken about what Jon went through. It’s exactly what she was terrified of happening. Benjen also brings up a valid point: Jon knew exactly what he was getting into when he enlisted. He would absolutely do it again. Also Ghost as a good ptsd doggo just made sense to me. He’s so quiet and tuned into Jon. He is such a comfort to Jon in canon, and I love this.

Jon POV next chapter. Thanks for feedback. It really means a lot to me! This will get fluffier soon, I promise. Happy endings are how I roll.

[certifiedskywalker]

Fate - Jon Snow

One evening, you run into Jon Snow; the infamous bastard of Winterfell. While your family, from House Mormont, was being hosted by the Stark’s, you and Jon began to harbor a relationship in the forest you met in. The small fling soon ends when you both go your separate ways; silently hoping that fate would bring the two of your back together. (Words : 3905)

Once I started typing I just couldn’t stop

You didn’t really want to be here; not in Winterfell, away from your friends. Your family, the Mormonts, had ridden to House Stark’s stronghold to broker more trade and hopefully arrange a marriage. You definitely didn’t want that. The idea of being married, merely for the sake of your House, made you feel less than human. You loved your family, you would die for them, but you wanted a say when it comes to where you will lay your future life.

After arguing about it, you finally just stormed out and away from your father. You found yourself crossing the courtyard of Winterfell and walking into the godswood. Something about the way the strong trees rustled in the chilled breeze soothed you. You found a clearing in the forest, a rocking resting near the edge of it. You sat of the cold stone, grateful for the warm cloak around you. You closed your eyes, breathing in the crisp air to calm yourself down. Your rested your hands against the stone as you unwound.

Mid-breath, a wet thing prodded at your hand. You pulled it away from whatever was touching it, turning to face the possible threat. Your eyes were landed on a small, snow-white wolf pup. It’s ruby red eyes glinted in the sunlight, making the quiet creature seem curious.

“Hello little thing,” you whispered soothingly. The wolf’s ears twitched at the sound of your voice and it took a step towards you. You carefully reached out your hand, moving it even slower when the pup cowered away. You held your hand out, waiting for the wolf to approach. The pup blinked it’s red eyes and stepped towards your hand. The white wolf pressed it’s head to your palm, allowing you to scratch behind it’s ear. “You’re a quiet pup, almost like a-”

“Ghost!” The pup shied away from your touch, it’s head turning in the direction of the voice. You turned your head as well, your gaze landing on the face of Ned Stark’s bastard. You had heard of Jon Snow, you had been born around the same time; so as you grew you heard all the gossip about him. The guessing game of his birth mother seemed to be a never ending game. Who could be so vile to lure the honorable Ned Stark? In this game was when you first heard the word ‘bastard’ and the negative connotations that came along with it. But in this light, he didn’t seem like the man your septa’s made him out to be.

“Sorry if he scared you, my lady. He’s a wanderer,” Jon said. As he got closer you could see how dark his eyes were and the startings of a beard that was around his chin. While his features were dark, he appeared to be kind.

“He did no such thing,” you said, standing to face the man before you. “Is he a direwolf, like the one on the Stark banners?” you questioned, smiling down at the little pup. Jon kneeled down near the little thing, stroking its head gently. It was a calming sight that soothed your heart.

“He is indeed. Ghost is just going to get bigger,” he looked back up at you, his full lips in a soft smile. You nodded, your eyes shifting from the pup to met Jon’s gaze. You couldn’t help but admit to yourself that Jon was very handsome. Snow stood suddenly, patting Ghost on the head as he did. “What brings you to the godswood, Lady Mormont?”

“Hoping to clear my mind of stresses,” you said formally, but the bastard seemed a bit alarmed by your openness. 

“I’ll leave you to yourself then,” Jon dipped his head respectfully and started to walk away. You opened your mouth to speak as Jon moved his hand motioning for Ghost to follow him.

“Wait, Jon,” the boy turned, giving you a near-surprised look. You realized that you hadn’t addressed him by name before; he didn’t know that you knew his name. You smiled at the thought, before continuing. “I would like company, if you don’t mind it.”

He opened his mouth to answer, looking at Ghost as if the creature knew what to say. In a way, the direwolf did. The pure white pup nipped at his masters hand before bonding over, back to you. You smiled that the pup, leaning down to pat his head.

“I guess I don’t have a choice,” Jon said with a small, shy smile. “It seems Ghost has taken a liking to you, you’re one of the few.” You let out a small chuckle before starting to walk.

“I’m honored,” you said as the boy and pup fell into step with you. As you walked, you and Jon made little chatter and you took a liking to his quiet, reserved nature. He was unlike his half-brother Robb, who was more outgoing. Jon was different, in the best possible way. You both walking through the clearing, Ghost going out ahead of the two of you.

“Does he always just go like that?” You turned to Jon, who was looking at you. You noticed a pink blush when you caught him staring. He cleared his throat before answering your question.

“Aye, he’s rather impatient. He always finds his way back to me though,” you nodded while he talked. Jon had a soothing tone to his deep voice, it comforted you more than the surrounding forest. A relaxed quiet fell over to the two of you once more, before Jon spoke up again.

“What brings your family to Winterfell? If you don’t mind me asking, Lady Catelyn never talks about our guests when I come around.” you shook your head at this. You looked down at your feet, flashing back to the argument you had with Lord Mormont, your father. This possible arranged marriage was awful to even think about, let alone talk about; but you trusted Jon. He seemed the trustworthy type.

“My father wished to arrange a union between myself and one of the little Lord Starks. Whether it be Robb or Bran.” You shuddered at the thought. You were much older than the younger lords, Bran and Rickon; what a strange match that would be. While Robb was nice, he seemed to be slightly impulsive when it came to in-the-moment choices; much like yourself. You needed someone more mature and thoughtful to make you think. 

“Robb is very kind, brave, he’d make a perfect match for you.” You looked up, meeting Jon’s dark brown eyes. He was frowning as he spoke, knowing that what he said wasn’t what you wanted to hear, or for him to say.

“I don’t want that perfect match,” you said, “I want adventure, true love. I don’t care how funny it sounds. I believe it exists, just as much as fate.” Jon snorted at that, bringing your attention back to his face. He noticed you looking at him and turned to look after Ghost. “You don’t believe in fate, Jon Snow?” He looked back to you and let out a sigh.

“I believe events occur when a person makes a certain choice. That choice can change everything for that person the instant they make it. Predestined events, I’m not sure.” You smiled at him, causing the boy to turn the corners of his lips upwards a little.

“I do believe fate brought us together, Jon, whether you believe it or not.” Jon chuckled, the first bit of laughter from him you had heard. The sound made your heart flutter, a new sensation brought on by the handsome boy.

“I do believe,” Jon said teasingly, “that is was Ghost that brought us together.” At the mention of his name, the pup padded through the trees. His red eyes looked from Jon to you, and back again before turning tail in the other direction. Jon shook his head and you both followed the direwolf over a small hill and deeper into the forest.

Your family had decided to stay in Winterfell for a few days, at least until the King and the Lannisters arrived. For the first time you were glad you family wanted to marry you off to a Stark; it allowed you to spend more time with Jon Snow. You had found a friend in him, as you both wanted far different things than what your fathers had planned.

While you just wanted some semblance of control over your life, Jon wanted to join that Night’s Watch with his Uncle Benjen. You learned about how his felt secluded from the Stark family and how he hoped The Wall would give him a better life, more respect.

“What about the vows?” you questioned as you both walked through the godswood. Ghost was waiting for the two of you to catch up on a nearby rock. The larger pup, growing swiftly, seemed to be listening to your conversation.

“What of them?” You turned your head to face Jon, his question lingering in your ears.

“You can never leave your post. Nor can you marry and father children. Isn’t that something you’ve thought about, or even wanted?” Jon stopped walking, so you stood in front of him. His eyes were searching yours as if he were looking for something your heart carried.

“No one wants to marry a bastard, have his children. I’m doing my family,” he paused on the word, “a service. I’ll miss them, but I can visit them when called to by raven. The Wall is where I belong.” You curled your lips together in thought, still staring into his eyes.

In them, you saw the hurt yet hopeful boy he was trying to hide; covering himself up with budding honor and a coat of security. After a moment more of looking at him, you looked away and down at your feet. You’d miss Jon, when you left; but now the probability you might never see him again was far greater than before.

“I find that to be a lie,” you whispered and Jon cocked his head. You looked back up at him, meeting his eyes once more. “You may be Eddard Stark’s bastard son but you have the honor and heart of a trueborn. Any girl would snatch you up for marriage if she looked past the bloody title.” You lingered on your words, coming to your own realization. Were you falling in love with Jon Snow? You swallowed before looking back up at him. Jon’s eyes widened at the tone and words you used, causing you to laugh lightly.

“Never heard a Lady speak like that,” Jon said, a smile starting to tug at his lips.

“Things are a little different on Bear Island,” you said, starting to walk again, “we are a stubborn and feisty bunch.” The walk continued as the one you went on the day before, and the day after that. It got to the point you looked forward to your daily walks with Jon rather than the thought of returning home.

Yet, the day came where you father told your septa’s to pack your things. No marriage had been set in stone, but Bear Island’s allegiance to the Starks had been strengthened. With that strengthened bond, you had to tend to the one you had forged.

Hours before you left for home, you met Jon in the godswood one last time. The forest seemed saddened as you walked through it, trodding along with Ghost and Jon. The pup had grown quickly from the first time you had seen him. Jon’s direwolf would grown to be a fearsome beast, that much was sure.

“So you are escaping Winterfell without the promise of marriage,” Jon said, after a long, silent minute. You nodded, looking down at the path before you, trying to memorize the details. “Will you return to Winterfell soon?” You looked up at Jon and saw a hint of desire in his eyes. He would want to see you again, he’d miss you as much as you’d miss him.

“I do hope so,” you said quietly, “but you break to The Wall after the King returns to his throne. I wished we could’ve stayed to see the stags and lions march through the snow sludge. I think it would be an entertaining sight.” Jon smiled, but frowned soon after.

“I can visit from The Wall, once I take my vows. Send a raven for me whenever you like, Lady Y/N.” You blushed at the affectionate use of your name. Your smile lasted long enough to reach the edge of the forest and the gate leading back into Winterfell’s yard.

“We should say our goodbyes here,” Jon said sadly, “Lady Stark won’t allow me to get too close when we enter.” You frowned, but nodded in agreement. Jon’s bare hand reached for yours, gently bringing your hand to his lips. He pressed a soft kiss to the skin, one that sent shivers down your spine. “It was an honor getting to speak with you through these days, my Lady. I do hope we meet again.”

You nodded as he let your hand go. You stepped a little closer to him, leaving just enough room between you.

“I do believe,” you echoed from the days past, “that we will. It was fate that brought us together, Jon Snow. It will do so again.” He smiled shyly, as he always did. You’d miss that smile and his kindness, and heart. You had gotten so close to him it was almost painful saying goodbye; it was painful. You leaned up carefully, pressing a light kiss to his cheek.

You smiled at him as you pulled away. His brown eyes were slightly more wide at your action, his mouth slightly open. You laughed before turning to Ghost. The wolf seemed have sensed what was happening, as his ears were back and his head low. You leaned down to scratch his ear one last time.

“You protect him at The Wall,” you said to the creature, “you know how special he is.” Ghost let out a small huff before gently licking the inside of your wrist. You smiled at him, as you moved to straighten yourself out. You glanced back at Jon, noticing a smile playing on his lips. Had he realized you had on one of your many walks? Did he love you as you loved him?

“Until we meet again Jon Snow,” you said, before walking back into Winterfell. You left tears stinging at your eyes when you saw your family's carriage packed and ready for departure. Your father ushered you inside after you said your ladylike goodbyes to the rest of the Starks. As you climbed inside the cart, you saw a familiar head of black hair and a wolf as white as snow from the corner of your eyes. You gave Jon and Ghost a final wave before entering the carriage. When it started to move, that’s when you let one, lonely tear fall from your eye. The idea of your return seemed so far away, frighteningly so; but you hoped that your belief in fate would bring you back to Winterfell. At least bring you back to Jon Snow.

Winter has passed...

The forest was not how you really remembered it, after all those years ago. After a long, hard winter, the trees seemed to be taking a breath of fresh air. They had escaped doom and lived through rebirth so many times over; which seemed to be going around. While the long night had been dark and full of war, Westeros had survived the onslaught of the dead.

Life had returned to normal, under a new ruler with a different name and soul. Summer had arrived and with it, hope for the new. Despite the seasonally changing forest, most of Winterfell had remained the same since you had visited it so many years ago. You now knew every rock in the high brick walls and the name of every servant that lived within them.

Bear Island, which was sworn to the Starks that remained alive, had sent you to stay throughout the winter as a sign of trust and good faith. You, of course, agreed to go without any hesitation. You had heard of Jon Snow’s glorious return and your heart ached to see him; but when you arrived The King in the North was nowhere to be found.

Sansa Stark told you that he was leading the charge beyond the wall against the dead with his troop of wildings. The way she described him made Jon out to be someone entirely different from the one you remembered. A war-hardened hero that had no time for those he fought to protect; a changed man.

Despite what you heard, Jon had remained somewhat the same. Brave, kind, and good hearted. The man you fell in love with remained in a more mature shell. After all that time of waiting to finally reunite and it happened in a flurry of melting snow and hearts.

Now, you were back at the start; wandering through the godswood that was kept inside Winterfell’s walls. Except this time, you were looking for someone, not clearing your head. Your mind had never been more at ease than it was now. The forest was like and old familiar friend as you walked through it. You smiled when you saw Ghost, sitting next to the same rock you sat on all those years ago. You approach the abnormally large direwolf and stroked his coarse fur.

“Where did he go,” you asked the creature. Ghost sniffed then moved his head to the left. Your scratched his head before going off in that direction. You soon reached another clearing where a little boy, who couldn’t be older than six, was playing. You walked up quietly, smiling at the boy until he saw you. Hoping you wouldn’t notice, he hid a wooden sword behind his back, trying desperately to hide it; but you could see the bottom of the carved handle resting on the ground between his feet.

“What are you doing out here?” You questioned, the boy smiled sheepishly, glancing at his shoes. His head of dark brown hair falling around his face.

“Playing,” he said quietly, knowing in a way that he was in trouble. You raised your eyebrow at him when he met your gaze. The boy sighed, “practicing.” You smiled softly at his confession and looked around the clearing.

“So then where is your father?” The boy glanced around, his curly hair bouncing as he did. He didn’t seem to want to admit where his father had run off too. You sighed and stepped towards the boy, leaning down to look into his face. “Where is he,” you asked with a softer tone.

“I’m right here,” rang out a voice. You turned and gave the boy’s father an annoyed smile. “He’s alright, I left Ghost with him.” You crossed your arms over your chest, still glaring at Jon. “You were fine, right Robb?”

You turned and glanced down at your son, whose shyness seemed to melt away. The boy nodded and pulled his wooden sword out from behind him. “I was alright,” he said, moving towards you, “really. I was fine, mother.” You let out a sigh and ran your fingers through your son’s hair. He smiled up at you and you gave in.  

“Just stick closer to Ghost the next time,” and almost if you had called him, the large white wolf appeared behind Jon. He blinked his red eyes knowingly before sitting next to his master. Jon patted his head before walking towards the rest of his family.

“He will,” Jon said, leaned over and pressing a kiss to your cheek. Robb made a disgusted sound and Jon chuckled. “Show your mother what you’ve learned,” Jon said and his son nodded quickly. Little Robb moved to the more open space of the clearing and started to swing his sword in the air, fighting an imaginary enemy.

“He’s skilled,” you commented, “much like his father. Where’d you run off to?” Jon smiled, wrapping an arm under your cloak and holding your waist. He turned his head from watching your son and pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

“A raven with a message from The Wall landed and few paces away. The repairs are nearly finished.” You nodded at his words, still watching your son. “And he has your strength,” he whispered, “as well as your stubbornness. That ensures he won’t give up.” You smiled as you watched your son who, like his namesake and father, bravely fought his phantom enemies. “Do you think your fate played a part in that?”

You turned to your head to look at Jon, whose brown eyes were back on his son. “What do you mean, my love,” you asked, and Jon looked back at you.

“Did fate bring your fire and my skill to him?” You smiled at your husband, who you married with and for love; not for and arrangement. You had married him in the winter and gave him a son as the snow started to melt away. Winterfell’s bells rang loudly when your son came into this world, even louder when Jon gave him his name. Robb; named after Jon’s true brother, the Young Wolf who followed his heart to the grave. The name was something for your son to live up to, but with Stark and Mormont blood in his veins, that wouldn’t be a problem.

“I believe that fate brought us back together,” you said, glancing at your precious boy then back to your husband. “And us being reunited brought him into this world, so yes. In a way, fate had a hand in our son’s life.” You looked at Robb as he delivered the final blow to his enemy. You clapped, making your son smile. “I do believe fate will also bring him greatness, Jon.” Robb walked up to you and Jon, and your husband patted his hand lovingly.

“You did well,” he said, sounding like a true King. “Soon you’ll be a better swordsman than me.” Robb shook his head quickly, as in disbelief.

“That’s impossible! You’re the greatest swordsman alive, father!” Jon smiled at his son and you smiled at the two of them. Jon just shook his hand and turned to you, smiling at you now.

“What do you think my dear? Will our son surpass me when it comes to skill with a sword.” You smiled and looked down into Robb’s light brown eyes. He looked so much like his father, it was startling.

“If our son listens to his father’s teachings and his mother’s rules, I think he’ll be far more skilled than you.” Jon smiled humorously at you and Robb seemed to burst with pride.

“I’ll listen, I swear it!” You smiled at your boy before pulling away from Jon’s arm. Your turned around to walk back towards Winterfell.

“Then let’s go, there’s food waiting in the great hall.” You heard Robb running after you, while Jon and Ghost trailed after him. Soon, Robb was ahead of you, Ghost chasing after him. Jon fell into step beside you, like all those years ago.

“He will be a fine King, since he’s already a beloved prince.” You looked over at Jon, because when he used words like ‘King’ and ‘prince’ he grew worrisome. Very rarely did he refer to his title or his son’s; partly because he didn’t want it in the first place. Those years he spent at The Wall changed him deeply, making him more cautious when it came to inheriting titles. 

“Under your guidance he will be the greatest King the North will ever have. We’ll teach him of love and courage and making the right choices. Everyone will love him. As we love him.” Jon looked over at you, his brown eyes warm.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said, looking into your eyes. You smiled, grabbing his hand in yours.

“I love you too, Jon.” You turned your head and watched as your prince son ran past the gates of Winterfell, your husband’s protective wolf trailing not far behind. You smiled at the sight, silently flashing back to the forest and Jon all that time ago. While fate started it all, in the forest you all had stood in, it was something stronger than fate that gave you your family: it was love.

[pendragonfics]

The Path of Least Resistance

Paring: Jon Snow/Reader

Tags: female reader, reader is an assistant, modern office au, canon divergence, hacking, computers and gaming, software, nerdiness and fluff, Jon Snow knows nothing (about feelings), threats of non-consensual activities, Jon-centric.

Summary: Jon Snow is a part of an elite team of weirdos who protect their people through internet coding. He makes sure that outside threats are treated accordingly, and swiftly. He doesn't realise he needs an assistant, and no matter what, does his best to ignore her helpful ways. Until of course, a threat comes to something he realises he can't lose...

Notes: Okay, so I've read Book 1 and half of Book 2 in ASoIAF and I really like Jon Snow. If I get him OOC or anything, I apologise. I've never watched GoT (I want to!) and so, you'll have to forgive me.

Word Count: 2,447

Posting Date:  2016-09-03

Current Date: 2017-05-22

Jon Snow mightn't seem important in his job. He wore street clothes and drank dollar coffee and his shoes were scuffed and had a lot more used gum on their sole than a subway floor. But he was a man in charge of a small division of a handful of programmers - protecting the cyber network of the entire country from invasion. Of course, his pay-check wasn't as large as someone with his position and skill could be, and he was at work far too often to have a relationship, let alone commit to someone else's feelings that way.

Apart from the horny teenagers messing around, trying to hack into government tech, Jon Snow's team - which Samwell nicknamed the 'Night's Watch' after a semi-drunk D&D game - were the first and final line of defence toward the fearsome international hacker group. The group (or person, who knew their identity?) was named 'WyteWlkr', and haunted Jon's dreams with their abilities.

The 'WyteWlkr's had almost made India react with war to a false email sent by New Zealand, had found and sent horrific images to foreign government agencies, and personally stored the world's nuclear codes for "the right occasion".

It wasn't until his boss declared that the black-clad neck-bearded men were to receive a shared assistant to help with the atmosphere and 'human management' side of the business that Jon realised they were quite fine without another person, thank you very much.

But of course, his boss didn't care, and sent this assistant in anyways. She had (h/l), (h/c) hair that seemed to shine under any light, and a bright smile that would be too enthusiastic to Jon for any reason. Yeah, it wasn't ________'s fault that she was just too goddamn into her job - apparently the management and organisation of things was a passion for her - just like Jon was into his.

So he did the best thing he could do to a crazy enthusiastic secretary. He'd put up with her arriving to their office with coffee too good for him, and replacing all the bland yellow sticky notes with her favourite colours. He ignored the way his co-workers smiled at her, and the way she did to him. But Jon couldn't smile at her. 

"So, a couple of your friends here told me you're the grumpy one," she approached him at the tearoom. It was a dinky little room with a mini fridge and a playboy poster from someone's father's antique magazines, and a dart board. "But I found that out for myself, Snow."

"I'm busy," he grits out, focusing his gaze on his cup of soup. 

She nods. "Alright, grumpy." 

There's a shout from the mainroom, and suddenly, Samwell's calling out Jon's name and there's  a thud. The soup is tossed into the sink carelessly, and at once, he's off, out and racing to the computers. Tollett is on the ground, out for the count, and the rest of the Night's Watch are flabbergasted and silent. The screens all have the same face upon them; a pixelated man's face, the right side scarred and red, the other seemingly bleached whiter. 

"Hello, children," the computer taunts, his words manged through a voice-changer. "I"m the devil."

"WyteWlkr," Jon greets curtly. "What are you doing here?"

The man on the screen tilts his head. "I'm tired of playing your games, Jon Snow. I've been a good boy, following along, pretending to play for your team. You think you're ahead of me? Wrong."

Slowly, Jon turns. Samwell is speachless, and Yoren is frozen. He can tell the man on the screen (whether it be his face or no) can see through all the computer's webcams. They're under siege. Nothing on their laptops are safe, it's all hacked. With two fingers not straying from his side, he catches the eye of __________. Quickly, he makes the symbol for phone with his hand, and at once, from her pocket, she withdrew the mobile, and without looking at the screen, she dialled the security number. 

"I can see your woman, Jon Snow," the man on the screen snarled. "Calling for help won't help her. I'll find her. I will have her and have my way with her." He threatened. 

"You will not," Jon challenged. 

________ lifted the screen to her ear, and faster than Jon could ever had done himself, spoke the ordeal to the head of security. She frowns, and looking at the screen, shrieks. The same face that is all over the computers is in her phone. 

"Oh, yes I will," the hacker's voice sneers. "And there is no way you can keep your precious _______ _______ safe from my grasp. I am everywhere. I am watching. I am sick of waiting. I am WyteWlkr." 

---

It isn't until he's seated in the waiting area at the federal police station until Jon realises that ________ is trembling. It's not the same sort of trembling she did before gifting Samwell the leather-bound Moleskin journal for his birthday, it's a sort of shaking which has her legs jumping slightly, hands tremouring like an earthquake measurer. 

He doesn't realise her shaking has stopped when he looks down at his hand, and sees it has migrated to her lap. Her hand is curled around his; his, muscled from all the basketball he played as a child with his step-family, calloused from all the typing. Her hands are smaller than his, and softer, and there are stray pen-marks and ink stains and her nail polish is chipped, but Jon doesn't care. She's his assistant, dammit, not that creep who called himself 'the devil'. Carefully, Jon strokes her skin with his thumb. 

"Snow? ____________?" The woman in charge, Ms Arryn calls them in. 

"Can you walk?" He asks _______. He can see her eyes, and the way she blankly stares ahead. "Ms. Arryn, Commander - my associate is going into shock, do you have -,"

She nods, and steers _______ from Jon's grip into the room. "Yes, we are fully equipped for all sorts of first aid. Come on in, we have much to discuss." As soon as Jon is seated, he can't focus on anything; _______ is huddled under blankets, and Ms. Arryn is chattering on the phone to the head of something else, and for a brief moment, he spaces out. But, that moment is not brief enough, as when Jon focuses again, he is hearing Ms. Arryn asking him for confirmation. "Mr. Snow, do you approve?"

He nods. "Y-yes," he affirms. "Of course."

Her smile is grim. "Right. Well, it's settled. For the next week while tracking down the hacker 'WyteWlkr', your assistant __________ will be in lockdown in your apartment, Mr. Snow." 

It isn't until he's in the car on the way to his home, with _______ in the passenger side that he realises what needs to be done. He lives in a nice place, yes, but it's been truly ages since he's had company, let alone company of the opposite gender who he doesn't much know, and if he really thinks, half the food in the house is expired, and the whole place needs a deep clean. 

"So, you're always not a talkative one?" He turns to see ________ smirking at him. Even after what's been threatened, she still has her humour. 

Jon shakes his head. "Just don't know what to say," he admits, steering the car into his parking area below the building. "I don't talk unless I really have to, I guess."

There's a pause, and then, "Have you always been like this, Mr. Snow?" _______'s voice crackles, and clearing her throat, she excuses herself. 

"Yes." 

 ---

The first three days pass silently. Jon didn't know what side of him did it, but he had abandoned his bed for her to sleep in amongst the bookshelves and World of Warcraft posters he hadn't taken down since college. He cooked what food he could find that wasn't off, and went out to the corner-store for bread and milk and easy things for his guest to not starve from. It isn't until the fourth day when ______ found a photo frame turned down on the coffee table that they properly talked. 

"Is this your family?" ______ doesn't look up from the frame, taking in the photograph. Jon's heart is racing, wondering what picture she found and if it was the embarrassing one of him and Robb on one or the other's fifteenth birthday. "They look nice."

By the time he sees the picture, _______ is wiping the dust from the glass with her sleeve. It's the picture his uncle Benjen had taken before he went off to fight in the war; his father Ned's arms are wide, holding all of his family within them. Jon stands between Robb and Arya, Sansa on her side, with Catelyn smiling for once in the picture, Rickon on her hip, and Robb holding onto Bran. It had been a good day. Probably, the last good day he could remember. 

"Yeah, they did look nice."

________'s head turns, mouth ajar. "What happened?"

Jon blinks. It's been a while since he's seen his family, let alone thought of them. "Well, for starters, I found out my dad cheated on my mother. I was the product of that merry day." He starts. "And she didn't ever like me. Robb," he points to his brother, "Is training to become a part of the army. He's a reckless git, but he's great at basketball." He smiles.

_______ nods, "And your sisters?" she asks.

Jon smiles. In the photo, Arya is pulling a face, her hair mussed from the skateboard helmet, eyes bright and wild. "That's Arya. I'd think she'd like you, she's a great person. She ran away from home a year ago, and nobody can find her. She's just...disappeared." ________ is silent. "And the one with red hair, that's Sansa. She's set herself on the career path as a model, but ... since dad died, nobody knows if she's modelling or in a ditch."

"No wonder you're stoic," she breathes. "I mean, all I have is (s/n) and my brother (b/n) and my parents, and - oh my gosh, they'll be worried sick about me! They call my apartment phone every Wednesday -," her face grows a rosy blush. "I suppose I can't call them to tell them I'm okay, that hacker..." she shudders.

"I wonder what it'd be like to have a family like that," Jon ponders. But to be honest, there's not a thing he wouldn't trade for his family. Yeah, most of them disliked him, and mostly that wasn't his fault, but they were his. "...but yeah, phone-calls are a no-go." 

_______ chuckles, sitting back. 

"What?" 

She shakes her head, and goes to stand. "Well, I just managed to get you to talk more words than you have all year to me, over one photo. Must be a special family, hey, Mr. Snow?"

Jon shakes his head. "It's Jon, _______. And we Stark's sure are a fruity mix." 

 ---

It's late that night when Jon wakes, a hand on his shoulder. "Jon? Jon, are you awake?" _______'s voice whispers. He groans, opening an eye. "I can't sleep, and I came to thinking, this couch is thirteen years old and very dilapidated and -," she held her breath for a moment, but Jon could hear the words roll from her tongue before they did. "Do you want your bed back?" 

Opening the other eye, Jon sits up. "Wh-at time is it?" he searches for his phone. "Why do you need to switch beds?"

In the dark, he can hear ______ shake her head. "No, I mean - oh damn, this is unprofessional as hell - could you please be, uh, there? With me?" She stutters.

Now Jon's awake. "Uh, sure. I won't tell Sam." 

He can barely remember walking _________ back to his room, and taking the side of the bed by the window, he curls naturally away from her form. Ironically, this is the most awake he has been for maybe five years, and aware as well; he can't help but notice how fast she has gone back to sleep, and how her form is smaller, and that he's unconsciously aligning his breathing to her slow, steady rhythmic breathes. 

And it hits him. 

___________ is in real danger. The threats were not idle. And he has chosen this moment, at precisely three fifty one a.m. to realise that he will most certainly not tell Sam about this. Or the fact he very much likes her in a more than workplace-appropriate way. 

 He doesn't remember falling asleep, but the vibrating of his mobile under the pillow brings him back to the land of the living. The screen reads the number of Ms. Arryn. 

WE HAVE CAUGHT THE PEOPLE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE HACKS. ________ IS FREE TO RETURN TO HER OWN HOME. L ARRYN. 

 ---

Over by the new coffee machine gifted to them as a present, Jon does his best to ignore the gaze of Samwell. The coffee machine was an apology present from the affluent old family, the Lannisters, to aplogise for what their pubescent son had done after hiring a hacker for take down the mainframe. He busies himself with all of these facts, and figures, and wonders how many hours will be needed to recode a brand-new security system for the reconfiguration of the firewalls, and not on his friend's keen gaze.

"Oh, out with it," He gasps at last. "I heard from Tollett, who heard from Yoren who eavesdropped that you and ________ were holed up together during the crisis," he spills. "What happened?"

Jon turns. His friend's eyes sparkle, awaiting details. "Nothing. We just lived in the same apartment for almost a week." Taking a sip, he adds, "No big deal."

Samwell's eyes widen, "No big deal? Snow, I have seen you have a rut that has lasted almost five years! I know what any guy is like with a female co-worker, but a hot one? You'd have to be practically blind or -,"

At this, ________ walked in. Jon notices she's wearing a pencil skirt, and her shirt and hairstyle are  rumpled in an unprofessional way. She gives her friendly smile to Samwell, and hands Jon a few pieces of paper. "Sorry to bother you, boys, but here's the poster you wanted printed for Arya. And I made a similar copy for Sansa. Dinner's at seven, don't be late." She beams, and pecking Jon's cheek, clacks off into the rest of the building for her chores.

"Wait, what?" Samwell frowns. "What just happened?"

Jon shrugs, and taking a sip, he chuckles to himself. "Sorry, I can't tell you, Sam."