#yet to read Jon’s chapter though

[catofoldstones]

Ok so I hadn’t read the full chapter but it has dontos with his florian and jonquil imagery and then the whole Sandor projecting his cowardice on Sansa, Sansa flowering in the middle of a war and being so terrified that she burns her fucking mattress and then the last line of the chapter is Cersei’s love is poison SKIP TO NEXT CHAPTER WHICH IS JON

HELLO?!!!

LIKE I AM SCREAMING

Jon just had a chapter before Sansa and now he’s back here again, almost as if he’s embracing her, blanketing her from harm.

Sansa having a chapter straight after the Jon’s where he meets Ygritte is something that can be so personal to me

[acid-ixx]

Planned Fanfics !

ft. platonic/ yandere batfam, superfam, villains, au's & many more!

— Disclaimer! This contains massive spoilers and all my plans for future works that I'll soon publish. This is posted because I wish to update my readers upon the contents of what I'm working to write and for them to leave inputs and whatnot. Sorry for the delays and all, life is hectic and as much as I love writing, I also have a life outside of this site sadly. By the way, this is not even half of my drafts and if anyone is interested in the things written beneath here, then please do tell!

To Be His Child is All I want (A&A, Chapter 5): Confronting Jason, one of your brothers who played a role in neglecting you, and being partly the reason why you ventured out the manor to seek love, away from the unhealthy environment, was no easy task. Back and forths with him, and reasoning why you don't wish to return back 'home' only poured fire into the flames of your already aching heart, as you scream about only wishing to be loved by even a fraction of the compassion Bruce feels for all his other children was all you needed to feel happy in life. It was enough to leave Jason breathless, muddled with emotions he couldn't quite grasp.

As you drown in a seamless fit of arguing and sobbing into the arms of your brother, the manor holds a meeting regarding your sudden disappearance. Bruce is promptly disappointed at Jason's absence; the others are just as intrigued with Dick and Damian's urgency to find you. Yet all are unbeknownst to your plans of escape, and most especially to a certain Kryptonian's scheme to have you in his arms all for himself.

Family Dinner (A&A): Silly, old you can't seem to stomach the fact that they're all looking at you now at the elongated table when months ago you were a mere ghost in their eyes whilst they chatter happily amongst each other. Unfamiliar with how communicating with a family who estranged you works; you end up having a panic attack in the middle of dinner when Damian attempted to hug you.

To Love and To Cherish (Random): Bruce Wayne loves his spouse and everything about them. They're everything desirable in his eyes and he couldn't help the urges that keeps him running back to you every time he patrols to ensure not only the safety of Gotham, but for the sake of his growing plans to fully integrate you as a full-time house spouse. The problem Bruce faces, though, is that he's not actually married to you, yet, and you're unaware of his prying eyes on your form as you live alone in your shabby apartment.

Flowers on My Grave (A&A, Hanahaki AU): Flowers don't only bloom inside your lungs when you're rejected by someone you love romantically, they can also manifest through platonic love unrequited. Vomiting a bouquet of yellow carnations and an arraw of purple and blue hyacinths, you set to sever the bond of love you once felt for them once and for all.

Cold House, Lone Spouse (Loving Family, Unpalatable Desire): You come home from Clark's farm to sleep in your own room to make sure nobody suspects a thing; expecting to power through the pain of loneliness in your room. But you end up waking up to Bruce's body pressed against your back and his arms caging you, unrelenting in its pursuit to make sure you never seek out another man's hold again.

Once Your Son, Always Your Son (Loving Family, Unpalatable Desire): Your routine with your beloved son, Jon, leaves nothing else to be desired as you set about your usual nightly schedule of helping him clean up, fix his bed, and read him bedtime stories— something you've grown accustomed to love naturally as being a parent does. But when Damian comes to visit you once Jon falls asleep, he enviously demands you do the same to him and to return to the manor where a better family is waiting for you.

The Confrontation (Loving Family Unpalatable Desire): Clark's night with you always ends up with him hovering above your body, kissing all the exposed parts of your skin, and worshipping your body which lays upon his bed every night. It's the perfect fantasy, yet it's promptly shattered when he sees the familiar silhouette of his comrade, clad in all black, demanding that Clark returns his spouse back in his arms; as if he's not the very same man who left you all alone that night at the gala, available for taking.

A Father's Strange Case of Gift Giving (A&A): To make it up to you, Bruce tries to spoil you rotten with a bottomless allowance and unrestricted access to all his credit cards. Even a mansion built on your name is built as one of the family's vacation houses. One unsettling fact, though, is Bruce's proficiency of capturing every detail of all things you prefer in such a short span of time after kidnapping you. (i.e. You're unaware of the cameras planted in every corner of your room trying to capture the things that makes you smile).

Mind Games and Mind Control (Brutus): What if it were The Riddler and Scarecrow who saved you from nearly dying? With your emotional reception, and both their wits, you end up stirring more trouble for Gotham's vigilantes. But during times where you've nothing to do but watch as both villains enact upon their master plans, itching to satisfy the ache of bloodlust coursing through your veins, you start to notice the abrupt bouts of energy they exert upon tormenting whoever stares at you (sitting comfortably on a cushioned couch, treated like royalty no less) or talks behind your back— crazed for your words of approval and praise as if it's not them who are capable enough of controlling you instead.

The Powered, and the Powerless (Random, Romantic Batfam): During the night, they are your city's saviors, the light that shines bright on darkness, the hope that never wavers through moments of fear. Daytime, meanwhile, they're portrayed as a rich, socialite family who donate millions on charity and everything that promotes good costs. Power comes to them naturally, and praise is served to most of them in a silver platter for all their hard work. You can even say their status is akin to that of Gods, except you don't think of them the same way others do; choosing to utilize your immense knowledge of internet safety to publish articles and conspiracies pertaining to each member of the Wayne family through anonymous forums. Yet all this results in their interest in your secret identity.

Fate Unwanted (Random, Soulmate AU): You're a simple person living on the outskirts of an unnamed town on the boundaries of Gotham. Curious on why your parents are protective of you, forcing you to live with countless of strick rules written boldly on paper and plastered on the front of your refrigerator, and why you just can't seem to produce or perceive any soulmate bond; you set out on a mission to find the mysteries of your unmarked soul. Little did you know that the strangers you stumble upon who chose to assist you on your journey, all from every city and every known state, have found their soulmate that they're unwilling to share.

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

1 - Wolves of the Lone Stag

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (slow burn), Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 16.1k

Warnings: Slow Burn, Strained parent-child issues, mentions of minor character death, secret relationship, arranged marriage, injured/sick child mention, smut, p in v, slight dom/sub dynamics, loss of virginity

Notes: Reader is firstborn daughter of Stannis Baratheon, based off the show but will include direct book elements, slight canon divergence. First Chapter is really long due to set up, subsequent future chapters won't be quite such a massive read. Chapter Two Here.

Travelling along the Kingsroad was far longer and more tedious with this company. Normally you would spend only so much time on here from White Harbour, most of the journey done on sea. Yet now, there were far too many people and it’s leader insisting on treating the journey as it’s own adventure. By the time you reached Winterfell it would be a month on horseback and no one to entertain your morose demeanour. Though perhaps you had to consider that it wasn’t just the company of the others that was less then ideal.

You had the supposed misfortune of being the daughter to the less favoured of the three Baratheon brothers. Robert, King Robert to those in public company, was a more complicated man. A mix of a man who successfully kept the peace for over twenty years but also was as unhappy on the throne and was unafraid to show it. He did however, have enjoyment in wine, hunting, and did hold a jovial laughter that kept people around him.

Your other uncle, was much more agreeable. Renly was the youngest of them and was charismatic and well liked. He was naive, not really a man suited for leadership but he did the best with what he knew to do. Closer to your age, you often found yourself spending time with him and it was right now that you were annoyed he chose to stay back in Kings Landing. A month with the King, his own family and the entire royal brigade and not one of them knew how to get a smile from you.

That was a trait from your father no doubt. Stannis Baratheon was the middle child, and he was easily the most disliked. He was cold, distant, unemotional and seldom allowed laughter at his table. He took his job seriously, more seriously then the King did his sometimes. In his prime, he was a proven battle commander and he never lost that. Robert was a warrior and he was happiest as such, but Stannis had never stopped being a commander and whether it made him liked or not, it taught you to be who you were now.

A Lady of the House Baratheon, firstborn daughter to Stannis and heir of Dragonstone was your current position and you were taught to uphold that name. Often found with a flat expression, close to a scowl as you walked the capitol you found nothing to enjoy there. Not that Dragonstone was where you’d find happiness either. The only place that had never been your home was the one you felt it in.

You had turned eight when your father had begun sending you out. Brought up, he ensured you had a Lord’s education as well as what all girls were taught. If you were to take up the mantle after him, he wanted you to learn from those that would teach you to be like him. That was when he sent you to Winterfell for the first time. Not a friend of Lord Eddard of House Stark, but your father did respect him the most. Two men both stern with upholding honour and justice, always doing what is right and what is honourable rather then what they wanted.

You spent seven months in Winterfell, and it was the first time your mother and father hadn’t been there for your name day. At the time, it made you sad but you had long since gotten over it. Over more then a decade had passed since your first stay in the north and many name days had been spent there with no word from your family. Well, at least your parents. The only family member you spoke too and more fondly with then Renly, was your baby sister. Shireen Baratheon was not just the light of your life but your fathers too. Some used to say that you were the only one who could make Stannis smile but you were nothing compared to how he smiled at that little baby.

You were fine with her being the favourite, she was your favourite family member as well.

Not long after baby Shireen had beaten a bout of horrific illness, your father had been summoned to Kings Landing. The King telling him that he was of no use to the realm shut away on Dragonstone, and he was to come to the capitol and sit on the small council as Master of Ships. He had taken you with him, and thus your new home was the wretched city full of backstabbers and manipulators.

Back and forth you went from Kings Landing to Winterfell, each stay growing longer and each stay you grew closer to the Starks then you did anyone in the Red Keep. Lord Stark was the perfect example of a good leader, warden of the North and inspired nothing but loyalty amongst the northerners and made you as welcome as anyone in his home. You followed him around most days, learning from him, watching how he handled diplomacy and made his lessons your own.

It was that how you got to know his ward, Theon Greyjoy. A rambunctious lad who listened diligently in formality and was crass and brash outside of that. You knew he would hate Kings Landing but often found yourself at your fathers side wishing the smart ass was next to you, nudging you with his elbow every time you were too closed off for your own good. It was easy to forget that he was technically the Starks prisoner, he fit into their family, the north as well as you did.

Not quite a leader as you were being taught to be, but you were confident once he had the chance to prove himself, you’d expect great things from him. You’d gotten a raven from him while on the road, and in his usual style he spent some time making fun of you for having to be “shacked up with the lamest of the three”.

Right. The reasons your company headed to Winterfell. The King had one, you were being forced into another though. The news shocking you as Stannis told you of your new duty the night before you left was double. That he was leaving for Dragonstone and you were to return to Kings Landing with Lord Stark and serve as acting Master of Ships in his absence.

He wasn’t just dumping his responsibilities onto you with no explanation of his distant behaviour and secrecy, your father had also dumped a marriage onto you and told you that you were to marry and come back. As if he didn’t just dictate your entire life to be like his. “You will marry the Stark boy, and with or without him you are to return in my place.”

Trying to reason with him, “You’re expecting me to have, what? A night maybe two with my new husband and then leave for however long you decide?”

Not even the slightest change of expression, but there was a twinge of regret in his eyes that was soon covered up. “I didn’t decide this alone. My brother, our king, has decided it with no room for question. I’m sorry, but you’re a Baratheon. You’re my daughter. And sometimes our duty requires us to marry not for love, but for the good of the realm.”

You had spoken to your betrothed since the announcement, but had yet to see him in person. A major reason as to why you wished Renly had come with you. Have someone to ease your nerves on the months ride, instead you were entirely on your own lost in what you were losing.

After all, you received a raven from not just Robb after the announcement. And it was that second one, and the finality of it’s contents that shattered the still remaining rosy dreams you once felt as if you had a lifetime to indulge in. Who your betrothed was, wasn’t the upset in any way. It was the unavoidable conclusion of the love in your heart that simply wasn’t allowed to be.

As the party approached Winterfell, your heart begun to race.

The crisp cool air on your face that once relaxed you, only stoned it further into a solid expressionless pose. Reminding yourself that you weren’t just here as yourself, you were to represent your father and you wouldn’t do so by falling apart. You rode into the walls right up near the very front alongside your craven of a cousin. He represented the luxurious royal side of the family, and you the steadfast duty and justice.

The House guard stood all around the courtyard as well as many people who simply worked close by or wanted to just see the King. Riding into the main area, you refused to look. The Starks all stood with their closest men behind them but you looked nowhere but above the heads of everyone with a straight back atop of your horse.

The carriage which carried the Queen and the other two of her royal children filed in and revealed the King following suit. Your eyes forcing to stay nowhere but him, and it struck part of you that his deep scowl seemed to just be a trait that was shared amongst much of this family. As your party stayed atop their horses, you watched everyone near kneel down as Robert was assisted off his horse.

Watching him make a straight line towards the Starks, he stood in front of the kneeling Lord Stark beckoning him with his hand to stand. Everyone around them rising in toe as you watched the two old friends look stoically at one another. The quiet in the courtyard as everyone waited.

King Robert, it seemed, left posing the stoic formality of the Baratheons to you. Looking down at his friend’s frame and casually commenting, “You got fat.”

Two magnets, designed by the gods to be brought together your eyes met without any thought. His grey ones widened with a playful glint and a raise of the sides of his mouth as if to say, “He got fat?” You, broke just as easily. Quirking your eyebrows up slightly, trying and failing to cover a smirk as you flickered your eyes in gesture to the King, agreeing with his silence as you both instantly looked away from the other. Knowing neither would smother such a begging grin if you kept glancing at each other.

Robert greeting each member of the family, making polite chat with the Stark parents you climbed off your horse. Your head angled enough to see your cousin, Joffery, staring at the direction you just had with a smirk you would describe in private as slimy.

You weren’t the only one with a betrothal in mind for your King, but it was the other Stark which would suffer. Somehow whatever genes made the Baratheons so respected, had skipped Joffery in every single capacity. He was more Lannister then he was his father, and not even with the decency to be like the one lion which you could speak to without agitation.

You couldn’t say Sansa was the one you got along with the most, but watching the way the prince looked at her, you pitied what she couldn’t possibly know she was in store for.

“Take me to your crypt, I want to pay my respects.”

Cersei Lannister, the Queen, barley made an effort to toss any level of genuinity in her voice. “We’ve been riding for a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait.”

Her term of endearment sounding as fake to your Uncle as it did you, he ignored her and summoned Lord Stark anyways. The Queen glaring as they walked away, and directed it towards the youngest Stark daughter, Arya as she without any care of properness, asks where the “Imp” was. The Imp being the Queens younger brother, Tyrion.

Were you to be honest, as you unpacked some of your things from your horse you could only think of one place he would go. And he certainly would not find such a place inside the castle walls. Seeing the Queens twin brother, Ser Jaime of the Kingsguard to “go and find the little beast.” Holding another smirk back, you heard footsteps approaching.

Not the ones you normally would expect, he wouldn’t come to you here. Not now, not in front of the royal family, all these people, and certainly not after learning you’ve come here to marry. Instead, the voice that spoke behind you was the only other person you’d care to see, calling your name.

Robb Stark, Lord Eddard Stark’s eldest true born son stood tall behind you. His northern accent deep and thick, and drenched in a soothing warmth that always felt comforting yet unfitting of the cold he lived around. Turning to face him, you could still see the trailing remnants of the Queen and her children in the distance.

Play your part, your fathers voice told you. With a slight nod of your head and a smile you clearly amused Robb with such a proper curtsy. “My lord.”

A raise of his eyebrows, he had less care of hiding such a smirk. “Is that how we are playing it, my lady?”

You had to bite your tongue to keep from smiling, but still failed somewhat. Robbs smirk growing more playfully smug as he watched you lose your static composure. “I don’t know what you mean, my Lord. I am here with the royal company, we are nothing if not with our courtesies at all times.”

Dropping the act, Robb rolled his eyes and stepped closer. “Well if you’re people have a problem with it, they will just have to get over it.” Pulling you into a hug, you felt part of your racing heart and screaming nerves settle a bit.

You’ve known Robb since that first visit when you were eight. No matter what you were both being shoved into, he wasn’t anything near a stranger. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you to his chest as your face was snuggle tugged into the deep browns of his cloaks fur. Soft as anything, they helped sooth your heart more and he seemed to hold you for as long as it did his as well. His voice low in your ear this time, “We’ll talk in private.”

Pulling away with a deep inhale, you nodded. Face falling back into a stoic composure. It sometimes took you a little bit to drop the harsh demeanour you lived with once you got to Winterfell, but with this company in toe you felt bad that the Starks weren’t going to really get you in any relaxed form. Nodding at Robb you fell quiet, but he was happy to take up the mantle with enough volume for those around to be satisfied with. “Let me help bring your things up, my lady.”

In the corner of your eye as Robb slung the heavier of your bags over his shoulder and you insisting on carrying at least the lighter one, you caught sight of his mother. Lady Catelyn Stark, originally born to House Tully, was something of a complicated relationship for you. You admired her in countless ways, and you saw her more as a mother then you did your own for many years growing up. But there was no mistaking the slight rift that was caused by the only other member of the family you were closer too then her eldest son.

That one though, was nowhere to be seen. You both knew full well that such a meeting was going to have to happen in private, and you hoped you would find time to sneak away from the feast tonight to get it. You two had to talk, you needed to talk to him before you marry or your resolve might crumble.

She watched you and Robb politely walk through the court towards the main doors. Describing their home as a castle felt odd after living in both Dragonstone and Kings Landing. The Starks castle in Winterfell was home in your heart, not a fancy collection of stonework designed to impress. Robb had written that the news came as surprise to all of them, that Lady Catelyn had tried to protest saying that the King shouldn’t just force this on you.

Her husband had to remind her, that they married of duty and look where they are now. You hoped that your companionship with Robb’s brother had not soured her opinion of you being capable of being a good wife. Robb didn’t have your heart the way he did, but he would be the one to keep it from now on and you hoped Lady Catelyn wouldn’t hold it against you.

Falling in love with Robb was not the impossible, in fact he could make that quite easy.

Making small talk of the trip here as you and Robb passed a numerous amount of servers and maids scurrying about the halls, you were thankful for how well you knew him. That the tensity in his stature would only relax the second the door would shut and you both would drop this growing painful act.

Your room was in a corridor away from the main family, closer to where Theon stayed. Many times the main four of you would stay in either his or your room to drink, laugh and get into trouble all without the keen ears of the Stark parents. Your room in Winterfell was a place that you could stop being the daughter and first born heir of Lord Stannis Baratheon, and just be you.

The room had been freshly cleaned, new sheets draped on the bed frame as well as a cozy fur begging you to plop down onto it with a sigh and a nap to boot. Robb dropped your bag down by the window, holding his hand to take the one in your hands to join it. Turning to you, he watched as you let out a shaking sigh.

Your face dropping, finally free to shine in a tinge of shame and exhaustion as you sat down on the edge of the bed, your palms flat on your thighs. Opening your mouth to speak, he cut you off with a sharp edge. “Don’t apologize.” Your brows narrowed in question, but Robb paced over to lean against the wall across from you. His arms crossed casually in front of his chest as he looked into your eyes. “You were about to say sorry for all of this, and I don’t want to hear it.”

Head dropping, you bit your tongue more and nodded. Hands clasping together in a fidget before returning to rest flat on your thighs. His eyes shined blue, and out of the sunlight his hair looked far closer to a Stark brown then it did a Tully Red, if your heart didn’t weigh a thousand pounds you might have spent more time admiring him. “I just,” Sighing again you looked away, unable to cope with the unblinking seriousness in his eyes. “I only found out before you did. I don’t want you thinking I asked for this, or am trying to force you into this.”

Robbs sigh wasn’t defeated, but annoyed. You hadn’t the courage to look again yet. Your name slipping from his tongue with a seriousness. “No one here thinks that.” Glancing up at him, you felt your resolve slip even more. “No one.”

Not that Robb would have any reason to suspect it, but you were desperately hoping that one person in particular didn’t think that out of everyone. Robb took a few steps forward, hoping to beckon you to look up at him, but instead chose to sit down next to you. Enough space between you to not be intrusive. Your voice was small, quiet like a whisper and you knew this was not the words of a proud lady, but just a girl. “He hadn’t even brought up marriage in years. Not since..”

You faded off, both of you know what you were going to say but luckily Robb knew that reliving it would not make you feel any better. He leaned closer to you without breaking your personal space. “Your father has talked to you about marriage more then he has me, at least. In some ways you’re more prepared for this then I am.”

Laughing out, you didn’t turn to see the soft smile on his lips at the sound. “Oh I doubt that. You haven’t had the pleasure of meeting my parents. Between them, and being around the King and Queen’s marriage? It it weren’t for yours I’d assume every married couple is bitter and unloving to the point of near contempt.”

A breathy laugh leaving him, you were thankful once more that at least your husband to be was someone whom you didn’t have to hold you thoughts around. Robb leaned back on the bed, his palms outstretched to rest against the furs and look at you partially from the back and side. “We could get separate beds if it makes you feel better.”

Your eyes narrowed playfully at the mocking in his tone. Quick to turn around with the intention of snarking back he took you by surprise. Lurching forward to wrap his hands around your waist and drag you back with him, both of you laying now back against the bed as he respectfully moved his hands from you. His eyes shined with laughter however, and it loosened yours enough to laugh out loud.

Playful words sat at the tip of your tongue, but what came out was far from it. “It feels like he’s planning something,” turning to look at Robb’s profile against the light coming from the window. “My father. He and Lord Arryn have been doing something in secret, and he kept me away from it on purpose. Both of them seemed to be worried about something, and then...”

“Then he died.” Lord Jon Arryn, Hand of the King and a long time friend of both the King Robert and Lord Stark had passed from a fever that took him in one night.

You nodded. Glancing up to the ceiling as your hands rested along your stomach. “He was fine one day, and then he just...not even a day later was when my father called me to his office. Told me everything, about coming here, about your father, then just..ended the conversation with this.” Your eyes narrowed as you recalled the sternness of his rasp.

“You’re to marry the Stark boy then return here in my place. I won’t have any more questions on the matter.”

Robb was lost in thoughts of his own, tone light yet distant when he spoke up. “He wants my father to be Hand of the King. He hasn’t even been in Kings Landing since the war.”

You understood why. Not just the horrors inflicted on Lord Starks father and brother, but it was a den of vipers all wanting you to play a game that a man like him would want no part in. None of the Starks belonged there, too good for a disgusting place the capitol was. Sighing yourself, you shrugged. “He’ll hate being there as much as my father does, as much as I do. At least I’m the Kings niece I’m supposed to belong there.”

Robb turned onto his side and you followed suit. Your dress hardly made for proper warmth like his attire was, but the Queen insisted that you dress properly to impress your to be husband. As if the man in question hadn’t seen you covered in dirt, mud, bruises and knocked you into the dirt countless times over the years. You didn’t feel like yourself anywhere but here, and yet with the royals all here you still didn’t feel like yourself.

Just a plaything meant to look pretty and play the part. For once, you felt like a normal highborn lady you supposed. Born and bred to be a wife that's born to breed. You were looking at Robb, and yet you reminded yourself with a lurch of your heart to push back the other face in your mind.

Later you told yourself.

Robb’s voice was low, soft, and with an affection that at the very least, wasn’t unusual for him. “You haven’t belonged there in a long time.”

Your tone dropped quieter then his. “Where do I belong then?”

To his credit, it wasn’t with himself that he said. “Here. You belong here.”

By nightfall you still hadn’t seen him. You’d seen many of the others. Arya being the first, practically running past Robb into your room and leaping into a hug with zero sense of formality. You knelt down somewhat to meet her with a loud laugh. With a zillion questions about if you’re staying, did you know, does this make you her sister, you were blissfully reminded of the only other girl who held your heart like that.

Shireen wasn’t a trouble maker like Arya had a tendency to be, but they had a similar spirit. She felt as much like your sister as the one back on Dragonstone was by birth. Sansa had to call her away, annoyed as ever and with a fluster as she addressed you. The paintings of a crush all over her face from the blonde haired fowl faced cousin, and you wished it was any other boy Sansa was to be promised too.

Well, as Robin Arryn briefly popped into your mind you laughed to yourself. Maybe not any of other boy. Starling the handmaiden attending to your dress as you shook your head in apology. You could dress yourself easily for a normal night in the North, but alas the Queen insisted that you impress your husband to be. As if he wasn’t someone you had known for over a decade as one of your very closest friends.

You did however, stop them fervently as they reached for your hair. The Queen could dress and paint you up like a doll and you wouldn’t really fuss at the treatment, but you would rather cross the wall and throw yourself into a frozen lake before you’d let any of those southern up-dos go anywhere near your hair. If judging by the look you got from the Queen during the feast, she wasn’t pleased in any way, but then again she rarely was ever pleased by anything.

Sat next to Robb during the feast, you were thankful that he and the other guys at the table treated you like they always did. To a degree, it was a bit off putting by your much more distant attitude but judging by the glances you made to the Queen they gathered enough that you were more on guard. The hall was filled to the brim with people, ale, music and laughter.

Off in the distance you could see King Robert laughing with a group of men, and his hands happily exploring a woman who was most certainly not his wife. Most didn’t care, and the ones who did never would say anything. He was King he could do what he wanted. Lady Catelyn much to your sympathy was stuck up at the main table sat next to the Queen herself and struggling to find any conversation that didn’t make the woman utterly miserable.

“Out of all the Northerns, you get stuck with this one?” Theons voice rang out, a lightness in his eyes and ale in his veins. You leaned your elbow on the table and pointed at him with a playful raise of your eyebrows.

“At least this one’s pretty, Greyjoy.”

Laughter from all around the table, and even finally sneaking one from yourself. Theon would sometimes flirt with you, but never in a serious manner. It almost was a game. He would start with a flirtatious comment and it quickly spun into who could jokingly insult the other more after you deny him with a snarky remark first. “Aye, but you’d get some nice experience with me.”

Robb tossing a ripped piece of bread at him with a half hearted protest of his own experience, but you leaned back in your seat bringing your mug to your lips. “What experience is that, exactly? Paying women to pretend to moan for you isn’t exactly what I had in mind for my wedding night.”

Pushing it back down, if you joked about it you didn’t have to think about the reality. With no experience of your own, you weren’t immune to the whispers of girls and women of their nights with pain and blood. At least you would get one single thing right come time for that part of the wedding. You almost didn’t though, and the longer you kept trying to not think about it, the more you felt yourself looking for someone you knew wasn’t there.

You had to talk to him, but the first day in Winterfell was just far too busy for it thus far.

Opportunity luckily, arrived in the form of Arya being unable to behave. You and Robb had been joking and laughing about something when the sight of food flinging from another side of the room caught your eyes. The food in question splatting directly onto Sansa’s face as she yelled out indigently.

The quickness of Arya smiling and going back to pretend as if she didn’t do anything got a laugh out of you, but also drew the attention of Lady Catelyn. Gesturing to Robb over, his face fell more serious as he brushed a hand over your lower back as he stood up. Grabbing Arya around the sides and hoisting her up. “Time for bed.”

Glancing around the room, Lady Catelyns eyes elsewhere, as was the Queens. Lord Stark talking to who you recognized as his brother Benjen and now Robb gone you took the opportunity you really shouldn’t have. Standing up, you made your way slowly to the entrance, downing the last of the ale before slinking out unseen.

Or rather, unseen by all but the watchful eyes of a golden Lion.

Alone for once, you allowed yourself to be annoyed. The chill of the air hit you with a sting as you were entirely undressed for the cold of the night. Not even graced with a seat at a lower table, no he was put out here as if his existence was so offensive to anyone but her. His birth wasn’t his fault, and as much as you admired and liked her?

It never failed to chip away at something angering in you, how Lady Catelyn treated Jon Snow.

You heard his voice before you saw him, but it the second voice that took you by surprise. “Did I offend you? Sorry. You are the bastard, though.”

Lord Tyrion Lannister in your sights slowly walked up to Jon, who was faced away from you. There was a bluntness in his words but also a sympathy in his eyes. Leaning back against a stone wall, you watched in quiet.

“Lord Eddard Stark is my father.”

And yet, just as so many liked to remind him, Lord Tyrions words were those that many have said in response. “And Lady Stark is not your mother. Making you, a bastard.”

Watching him with narrowed eyes, you held back any defence in your blood. Likely he was the only Lannister which you didn’t entirely distrust towards him. Jon Snow had more then enough people ensuring him he would never be like his brothers and sisters.

Your arms crossed over your chest, and breathe visible in the cold you listened to the man tell him wear what he is like armour. Jon, however, did not seem to be in such a mood. His voice was low, a thick northern accent that came out more like an entrancing rasp then Robb’s warm soothing one. It also, was lined with that of a temper you knew the older Jon got, the more he struggled with. “What the hell do you know about being a bastard?”

Fingertips itching to reach out, but you stayed put. Listening to Lord Tyrion’s final comments before departing to whatever plans he had for the night. “All dwarves are bastards in their fathers eyes.”

Jon wasn’t heartless, nor stupid. Somewhere inside him, you knew he sympathized with the Lannister but being shut out of a feast in the cold, on top of what you knew was looming? Jon had little room left to care about simmering that temper.

Lord Tyrion caught your eye as he passed, a tilt of his head and question in his eye you simply looked flat and unblinking. He wouldn’t say anything, but that didn’t mean he didn’t store his curiosity about your sudden watchful appearance for later.

Slowly approaching, you called out only once the sound of doors closing behind you left the courtyard in silence from the muffled party behind you. “Think he’s dead yet?”

Spinning to face you at the sound of your voice, you hated how unable you were to quell your heart looking at him. Walking towards him, you saw Jon put the sword away entirely before circling around to meet you halfway. It took less then second for both of you to glance around, watch for the no eyes any could see before he closed the rest of the gap.

Scooping you up into his arms, almost spinning you in place as you both held the other tightly. “I missed you.” Your voice muffled in this luscious dark curls, he put you down gently on your feet. His hands on your upper arms still before glancing up. Changing his mind, he turned. Pulling you along with him with a hand on your lower back.

Jon was the only man who could silently drag you away into a dark corner in the dead of night and you wouldn’t question him in any way, shape or form. Neither of you said anything, but out of everyone Jon was the one person who you didn’t need it with. Both of you were always on the air of more quiet, and it was never more appreciated then alone with the other, never worried about having to fill the air with talking to be comfortable.

Once you had reached far enough away, Jon led you into a small building, mostly empty save for some storage and one lit lantern. Door closed, he turned to face you once more with silence. His eyes begging to say too much, but neither of you could handle it in that second. Once more you found the others arms. This time, the desperation was felt both ways.

Both of you letting your eyes shut, and your hands rest freely and yet far to intimate to be platonic as you stood together. It was minutes before he pulled back. One hand resting on your waist and the other back on your upper arm. He watched as your hands wrung together, afraid to touch him. You hated how gently he always said your name, forcing you to look up and meet his eyes.

One of you had to say something, and you ripped the bandage off first. “You’re really joining them?”

His nod was confident, and it broke your heart that much more. “The St-”

Shaking your head you felt your eyes sting, you hated feeling this way. “Don’t give me that.” Your fingers twitched wanting to reach out, and he caught the movement. “Don’t tell me what you think everyone else wants to hear.”

Was his response a diversion from the truth, or an answer you didn’t know for sure. “You’re marrying Robb.” Like no other, Jon could tell right away that you bit your tongue in anxiety. The hand on your arm moving up to gently trace over the side of your jaw until he felt you relax under the touch. “I’m not mad at you. Neither of you really had a say in it.”

Ever so slowly, you hesitantly left your hands drift forward until the very tips of your fingers rested against his stomach. Much like earlier with Robb, were you not wracked with too much in your head, you might have paused to enjoy the feeling of how sturdy and firm his muscles had grown. Instead you let your head hang, knowing he wanted you to look at him. “And you feel like The Night’s Watch is the only place you belong?”

Were you anyone else, Jon would have pulled away in frustration. But his time with you was limited, and his hands always ached to touch you when you were near. “It is now.” Head rising up to look at him, your brows narrowed. “You’ll marry him, go back to Kings Landing with my father and sisters, and leave me what? Here with the brother who gets the one thing that used to be mine, and his mother who hates me?”

Something rushed up, and an anger almost yelled out instead of reason. “Jon, I’m not trying to leave you behind.”

He sighed, jaw clenching as his hand on your waist held you a slight tighter. “No. You’re doing your duty, and I’m doing mine.”

For a while you both just stood there, looking at the other. In your heart, you felt stolen from, but your mind reasoned for the best. Just as the silence between you was too much, Jon slowly leaned in.

Your back pressed against the wall and he having moved to crowd you against it, his head dipping down enough as you exhaled shakily. The nerves in you, always managing to make him smirk. But just as you felt the others breath on your faces, a door in the distance opened. Music and laughter and the sounds of a group making drunken rackets paused Jons movement.

If it were any normal day, you’d just say not here.

But you and Jon knew better, in a few days, he would stand in the godswood and watch you marry his brother. And soon after that he would join a group that cut your love off from him for life. You couldn’t kiss now, and not ever again.

It didn’t stop either of you from seeing the other after the night was over. But with the royal company here, with you and Robb spending more time together, you only had time to see each other in the secrets of the dark. What made that much harder though, was how little suddenly anyone looked forward to a wedding.

Bran had climbed the walls and towers thousands of times with a firm grip. And yet, while climbing the one tower which no one use in decades, Bran somehow fell so far to the ground, no one yet knew if he would wake up.

And amongst all that, the Queen insisted, “We still have a wedding to put on.”

The entire family was on edge. Maester Luwin has monitored him closely, and Lady Catelyn even closer having not left his side. You didn’t blame her one bit. It was before anyone else was really awake when you went to go see her.

Slowly peeking in, asking if it was alright you come in for a moment and you were thrown back over ten years ago. Looking at your own mother, Selyse, and how broken and lost she was as Maester Cressen warned her to prepare herself for Shireen to be sent away for good.

Walking by her side, you sat gently on the bed beside Bran. It was cruel. Only a boy of ten, and with the softest, most adorable little face you’d ever seen and yet he lay in bed broken in too many ways. If he woke, he’d never walk again. You thought to yourself, maybe if you were to be a proper northern, you should start praying to the Old Gods. Because it certainly seemed like praying to the Seven had done nothing. It left your baby sister disfigured for life, and so far they seem to have left Bran a cripple should they even allow him to wake.

Laying on the other side was his yet unnamed Direwolf. Hardly more then puppies when you first arrived, you had been shocked to see how they had grown. Sitting asleep by his masters side though, you hoped he would bring little Bran any comfort.

Lady Catelyn was silent beside you, working away on something you hadn’t quite understood. You didn’t ask, you weren’t a mother and you didn’t want her to have to explain her grief to you. Your hand gently ran over Brans wrist, your thumb feeling his pulse weak but still beating if you pressed firm enough. “My sister had greyscale as a baby.”

You felt her look up at you, but your eyes were trained on the adorable boy soon to be your brother. “My father bought her a doll from a merchant, and next thing we knew it was spreading fast over the side of her face. She was just a baby she didn’t even understand what was happening to her, but we all did.”

You felt your eyes sting, but forced them back with a harsh swallow. “I’ve never heard my mother cry like that. She lost four boys in the womb, and yet that was the most I’ve ever seen her cry. And my father?” You stumbled. Voice coming out harsh, and cracked slightly from the pressure to appear steady. “People used to say the only thing that he would ever smile for is me, but they don’t understand. They didn’t see the desperation in his eyes, how far and hard he searched to bring people to Dragonstone just for a chance to save her life. And none of them saw the tears in his eyes when he was finally allowed to hold her again.”

Reaching up with your other hand you ran your hand over the side of Brans face, brushing some hair to the side. “I’m sorry. Me and Robb both tried telling them to put it off, but the Queen insisted that a wedding might do everyone some good.” She tried saying your name, but you interrupted her. “It’s okay if you don’t come. If I were a mother, I don’t think I’d leave him either.”

Looking back at her, there were tears in her eyes and a soft smile that broke your heart. Your relationship with her was always complicated, but in this moment, all you saw was what no one had given to your mother when it was Shireen.

Leaning over to her, you hugged her tightly. The pain in her heart evident in how both weak yet tightly she hugged back. Pressing a kiss to her forehead you spoke quietly, “I’m sorry.”

Passing by the busy servants and suspiciously watchful Queen you paid no mind to the preparations that were to be for you tomorrow. At first it had felt like you and Robb were to be wed for some unknown plot of your fathers, but now it felt like a distraction.

Don’t look at the broken boy in bed, look at the happy couple. For their own pain, you had to hand it to the three of them. Lord Stark, Robb, and Jon truly what Starks were made of. Strong willed, and keeping calm acting as a pillar for the much younger and more worried siblings. Arya clearly a big influence on her direwolf Nymeria, as the wolf was agitated and struggled to sit still the past days. On multiple occasions, you found the wolf almost trying to rile up her own siblings to varying success.

Her and little Rickons direwolf Shaggydog had the most energy. As if getting out their tension by chasing and play fighting. Sansa’s Lady was truly an apt name. Stuck by her side and was poise and put together, only getting in the way to provide any comfort to the redhead in what Sansa thought were moments no one was looking.

Grey Wind was as strong headed as Robb. Their mother gone, he had taken up the mantle of leader of the pack and seemed to be a calming presence for the others. Much like how Robb’s confidence in ensuring his siblings Bran would be alright, provided such comfort to them. The more time you spend with Robb during the day, the more used to Grey Wind you got.

He grew larger then the others, a gorgeous mix of greys and browns in his colour and the more comfortable with a new closeness which Robb grew with you over the past few days, the easier it was for Grey Wind to come to your side when not with his own master. Lord Stark had joked that they seemed to sense you were about to become a wolf yourself.

It was the final direwolf however that you enjoyed the most. Pure white with striking red eyes, Ghost was smaller then the rest but quick and silent. He made very little noise if ever, but was always aware of his surroundings. Keeping out of the way without sacrificing his watchful canine eyes from their view, and listened to his master better then any of them.

Jon and Ghost it seemed, were one in the same. From the same family, but not truly one of the pack as the others were. While the others followed their master like an animal companion, Ghost and Jon were almost like friends instead. Certainly he took Jons feelings around people seriously, considering that as you sat out in the godswood while the moon set itself up in the night sky, you were suddenly almost thrown off balance.

Looking down, the small white direwolf had leaped into your lap. Leaning up to give your cheek a lick before settling in. You scratched at his back, “I don’t know what you’re asking for, but I’m getting up in about ten seconds.”

“Maybe he just likes how soft you are.” Looking up, you utterly failed to fight back both the fluster in your eyes and the embarrassed smile that you tried to hide, turning away from him.

Jon’s curls looked more wild and free again, growing out quickly from the clean cut given before your arrival. The wilder look suited him better. His cloak around his shoulders had a bright closer to white fur around him that you knew first hand was warm and comforting. Coming to sit next to you, he reached over and ran his fingers over Ghosts ear, making him shake his head with a barley audible huff at being disturbed. You both laughed gently, were it not a wolf in your lap, a commoner would mistaken you both for that of a couple with their newborn.

You were to be married tomorrow, and in two days you and Jon would part ways for what could be life for all you knew. Two days, but tonight was your last. Tomorrow you would be Lady Stark, wife of Lord Robb Stark, and there was no room in that duty for another or fairness in your heart.

Leaning against his shoulder, you knew in the eyes of the old gods there was no judgment as you rested your head there. His arm coming to pull you into his side as he looked down to you, your own trained on Ghost.

More then once you and Jon had almost kissed, it would be too easy. To fall into it again. You didn’t fall into it the first time, it was just a bond that always existed. The last time you had ever kissed, was when you came close to giving him something else.

The opportunity was right there, and no one would have been there to stop you, but neither of you were people who could so easily push past the honour you were raised with. Deep down in his mind, Jon knew you could never just marry someone like him, not for who you were. He just didn’t expect to come to the finality of it all, only months after almost having you.

Not that he told it to you, but there was a smugness in Jon that said that at least if he had one thing over Robb, or two, was that he was your first kiss. Knew what your lips tasted like, and knew what a cruelly addicted sight your bare body looked like. Though, not if he asked you, you’d say that wasn’t a perk.

Reminding Jon that he was muscle and you weren’t. Only receiving a dark, undoubtedly lustful look as he muttered that your softness is exactly what he dreams about before kissing you, having pushed you back into the furs of his own bed.

A far off moment, sitting together now, cuddled with his cloak around you against the Weirwood tree for the last time. “We never had a chance did we?” Pulling back, Jon tried looking at you with a slight question in his narrowed brows, but you just continued to run your fingers gently over the slumbering Ghost. “I mean, being with you is easy. It’s always been easy, but being together?”

Resting his chin on the top of your head, he breathed in deeply. “No. No we never had a chance.”

The truth didn’t make it hurt any less. But you weren’t children anymore. You would marry Robb, return to Kings Landing and serve on the small council at the Hand of the Kings Side, in place of your own lord father and Jon would become a man of the Night’s Watch.

In what world did those two things have a chance at crossing over?

Turning your head, you rested further into his neck and his warmth was unyieldingly comforting. “You know right? Even if I don’t say it?”

Jon had enough, moving to pull your face up to look at him by your chin. “I know. And you do too.”

Your heart skipping a beat you smiled partially, “You know it’d be a whole lot easier not to kiss you if you weren’t so handsome.”

Smirking, Jon pulled you closer. Your back more pressed against his chest as he wrapped the edges of his cloak around your front, hiding the blissfully unaware Ghost from the cold air. “Oh I’m handsome, am I?”

Rolling your eyes, you relaxed in his touch. “I’m not blind, Snow. It’s an unfair thing about you Stark men, you, Robb and your father, all way too handsome for your own good.” You had always done that. Included Jon when referring to the Starks without question. It was something that only his youngest siblings would still do, and that's just because they weren’t yet mature enough to truly understand why he was treated different.

You were though. You knew why, but you and him were always the closest even before the messy feelings of early teenage hood started to take place, and since then you were only more steady in that belief. He was a Snow, but his blood a Stark. And no matter what he called himself, he would always have the blood and integrity of his father. “Should I be worried? Marrying my brother, and running off to Kings Landing with my apparently handsome father?”

Pinching your sides, you tried elbowing him but Jon was far stronger and held you still with a laugh, your voice high and defensive. “I didn’t mean- sorry next time I’ll call your family ugly, alright?” With a pause, it slipped out before you could stop it. “Jealousy another Stark trait I should be worried about?”

You could feel the smirk still plastered across Jons face in his voice at your ear, “When the girl looks like you, any man with half a brain would be jealous of letting you go.”

It was far later then you should’ve been awake, but peeling yourselves apart for the last time was too difficult. It was quiet for a while, nothing but the quiet hums of the woods to pass the silence. His voice rasped in your ear, a small shiver down your spine at its closeness. “Where’d we meet?” He chuckled at your blatant confused face. “If we had a chance, in another life where’d we meet?”

“Are we not still us?”

You enjoyed hearing him so light and casual, it felt like I’d been months long amount of days since you’d seen such casualness. “No, well I mean I’m still me and you’re still you. But we’re not highborns, no titles or duties. Just two people somewhere in the kingdom, where’d we meet?”

Eyes squinting in thought, you considered something that was the opposite of the horrible paranoia of Kings Landing, and far from the darkness of Dragonstone. “I hear Highgarden is beautiful in the summer.”

Jon nodded against your head, “Alright. So you’re a bar maid in Highgarden, and I-”

Laughing loudly you tried pulling away, “Excuse me, why am I a barmaid? Isn’t this a fantasy?”

With such a tone of seriousness you felt light at how easily it came to him, as if it was something he’s thought of before. “Yes, and if you’re a bar maid it means I have an excuse to pull this pretty little bar maid in Highgarden down onto my lap as she passes by.”

“That’s aggressive of you.”

“Maybe this particular bar maid makes me aggressive.”

Back and forth you went, what is job was, how you’d fall in love, if you stayed in Highgarden or travelled the realm elsewhere. How many kids you’d have to which you certainly had protests as to how easily Jon kept raising the number each time he mentioned it. By the time you had planned out a new life, it was late enough that you needed to go back.

You needed some sleep, and Jon wasn’t the only brother who you wanted to talk to before this was all over.

Ghost lept out of your lap and shook his fur out on the ground as you both watched him with a fond smile. Looking back at him, you held onto his wrists and he your waist. This time, neither moved in or even tempted the idea of a kiss.

Raising a hand to cup the side of your cheek, he ran a thumb over the soft skin. “Don’t look for me in the ceremony.” Before you had a chance to spiral, he leaned down to meet your eyes more level. “I’ll be there, but don’t look for me. You’re going to be Robb’s now, and I want you to be okay with accepting that.”

Nodding, he made you promise out loud. “I promise.”

He nodded once. “You’ll be each others tomorrow, and I’ll be at the wall. I want you two to be there for each other, no matter what. Besides, it’ll be easy.” You tilted your head. “Robb’s easy to fall in love with, and I think it’s impossible not to fall at least a little in love with you.”

The hug you shared wasn’t the last before you departed, but it was the last one just for you.

He sent you off first, not wanting you to linger with him on your mind. Jon needed you to be okay with being Robb’s, and he himself, needed to just get through these next few days. He had an entire life at the wall to grieve about you.

The handmaiden was quite mad at how you ignored her. Something about the Seven, not seeing the bride but you went towards Robbs anyways. You were to be married at the Weirwood under the eyes of the old gods, it didn’t matter what the Seven wanted anymore.

Not quite dressed up, Theon looked you up and down as he opened the door. “Didn’t think you were that much of a bore.” You pushed him out the way with a roll of your eyes, he laughed as he closed the door behind him. You were glad that the northerners weren’t so dramatic.

With his mother tucked away with Bran, he escaped what would’ve been her insistence of shaving and another trim. His facial hair growing thick and his curls much more Tully Red in the daylight. “I want to ask you a favour.”

Nodding once, he said anything. Taking a step to you as you sighed out shakily, hands ringing together, he said your name as he came into your space. Looking up at him, you sighed out again. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Taken back, his eyes narrowed in curiosity. “That’s not a favour.”

Somewhat flustered, you pulled away. Sitting down on his bed, unable suddenly to send away the thoughts of the very next time you’ll be in this room. “I- I don’t want you thinking I don’t want this, or you, but we didn’t plan this, or talk about it before it happened, and now we’re here and,”

Robb knelt down to your level, not yet touching you in your panic, but speaking slow and in a low, comforting tone until the edge fell from your lips. His steady energy slightly bringing you down a little bit as you tried again. “My parents are miserable together.” Your hands started to wring together in front of you, “They barley tolerate each other, I’ve never seen any love between them. And same with my Uncle. He and the Queen basically hate each other I’m shocked they could stand each other long enough to have three kids together.”

His brows narrowed as you put it all together. “Everyone I know whose married for duty, married because they had to...I think your parents are the only ones I know who ended up happy, who actually love each other.”

Robb leaned in slightly, “Are you worried you’ll never love-”

Shaking your head you felt the anxiety in your chest boil up like never before. “Robb, look at me. I’m Stannis Baratheons child, daughter of the supposed most miserable man in Westeros in the most loveless marriage, are you sure you’re okay with marrying me?”

There it was. The first true hint of insecurity that you’ve allowed yourself to be honest with since you had been told of this arrangement. Two out of three Baratheon Lords were in miserable marriages, and when you looked at Robb, you hated the idea that you were forcing him into just another of that cycle.

The girl in you wanted to cry at losing one love, and the woman in you hated yourself for possibly dragging another into something he’d come to hate. You’ve known Robb for as long as you’ve known Jon, and you watched him grow into the man he is now. Both of you could do great things together according to Lord Stark, but what if you were too much like your father to ever inspire love?

Robb stood up, sitting down next to you as he turned his body close. Your name falling easily from his lips. “You’re not your father. No- look at me. You are not him, you’re not any of them. I’ve known you since you were eight. You’re stubborn, and strong willed and always willing to do what duty asks but that isn’t all of you. I’ve also seen you laugh, get into trouble with me more times then I can count, you care about my little sisters and my brothers like their yours too. My father already sees you like your his own, and despite everything, I know my mother does too.”

Running a hand over your hair, he watched tension in your shoulders deflate ever so slightly. “I’m not worried about marrying you, because I know what I’m getting myself into. And no one can tell me to be happy about it, but I am anyways.”

Gently you raised your hand, enough to slightly lay over the arm Robb had flat on the bed, your thumb finding this pulse, unlike little Brans, his was steady and strong. “You shouldn’t be. You get told your marrying me, and then the day after I get dragged back to Kings Landing with half your family for who knows how long.”

Your heart raced, as Robb twisted his arm, holding your wrist the same way you were his. An easy, charming, boyish smile on his lips. “And we’ll have the rest of our lives to make up for it.”

Deep in your mind, you wished Robb would make this harder. You wished he wasn’t so easy to be charmed by, but you knew him too well to trick yourself into thinking he wasn’t being genuine or honest. “So about that favour...”

Narrowing his eyes, there was a flush in your cheeks that you hated was making him smirk. “What about it?”

You sheepishly tried pulling away, but he yanked you closed by is hold on your wrist. Looking down anywhere but his face you felt like a little girl again, only that time you didn’t have to be the one to ask for it, Jon kissed you before you knew what was happening.

Robb though? Oh Robb knew exactly what you were trying to ask, but was almost sadistically enjoying the process of making you say it out loud to him. You flushed more at what other implications this potential side of him would bring. “I, okay I’m not some innocent flower.”

He raised his eyebrows and you smiled indigently, “I mean, I’m still- I haven’t- shut up.” Robb was flat out laughing at that point but let you fail at getting this out with composure. “I know you’ve been with women before, physically..”

“Does that bother you?”

Shaking your head no, it was no lie. You may have to get used to the idea of being married to him, but again, you weren’t blind. You had eyes, you knew exactly what women saw in Robb Stark. “What I’m trying to say, I’ve kissed someone before but not you.”

Much more serious, Robb clearly did know what you were asking, but watched with his gorgeous comforting blue eyes intensely as you whispered. “I don’t want our first kiss to be in front of all of them.” His family, the royals, all those you didn’t know, the old gods, and even Jon. A first kiss in front of him felt too personal, to intimate.

Moving close, you felt his breathe on your skin. “Do you want me to kiss you? Here?”

The room slipped away though, Robb’s voice was so warm and so was he. The hand on your wrist moved to rest at your waist while the other hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you firmly. His lips would brush against yours if either spoke, but he waited for a single nod before kissing you.

His kiss was different. Soft, but coaxing. Like he knew what was holding you back, and just let you fall into it on your own. It was simple and gentle at first, but as soon as you let out a tiny sigh, something in Robb slipped for a moment. Kissing you again, harder this time. His hands tighter and his kiss a little deeper.

Leaning into his front, your hand found the back of his neck and into his curls, and your other against his chest as if they always knew what to do. It wasn’t until you let out what might just have been a small moan, Robb close to pulling you into his lap did he pull away. Pressing a kiss to your forehead and running his hand once more over your hair.

“Can you live with that? For the rest of your life?”

Robb smiled softly at the very new venerability in you. Pressing one more kiss to your cheek, he knew you didn’t mean only having a kiss. But was he happy with such a kiss was your question. “Wait until tonight, I’ll tell what about you I’ve been fantasizing about living with.”

The grin on Robbs face as he pulled away wasn’t the charming boyish one earlier. No, this one was far more that of who he was really, a wolf. A wolf who looked you up and down and made you realize that Robb Stark just might not be as dashing and honourable as he’s led you to believe.

A thought that should’ve made you nervous, but as you walked back to your room, ready to let the girls doll you up and argue about not touching your hair, you started to think that maybe that wolfish grin, actually excited you.

Just when you thought you were going to die of a heart attack, your to be lord father gave you a reason to have a whole new panic. The ceremony was more fancy then any of you involved wanted, not the Starks nor you, but your own father insisted on marrying you off with the royals in toe.

He wasn’t here. Your mother neither. Both of them, Lady Catelyn and Selyse were either sickly or caring for the sick and weren’t here, but Ned Stark was. He was here, and your own father wasn’t. Stannis was not a consistently comforting father, but part of you felt hurt that he wasn’t here to see his oldest daughter, his own heir, marry for the first time.

Instead, the man who had seen you raised half your life here, the one who would be your father by marriage once this was done was the one who approached you. Looking out into the distant woods as you clearly struggled to hold your nerves back. “I didn’t think this was the thing that’d worry you so much.”

Spinning around, Lord Stark reached out to steady you with a chuckle. “I’m sorry, I just...this is a lot..was it this nerve wracking when you married Catelyn?”

Not pushing you towards the woods, he stood beside you an arm around your shoulder as he rubbed your upper arm gently. “Terrifying. I’d rather face a thousand armed men then get married in front of all those people. I certainly wouldn’t have wanted someone as delightful as the Queen at mine either.” You huffed a single laugh out and swallowed the rest. “And I know I certainly wouldn’t want the person I love watch me marry someone else.”

Blood in your veins froze, your heart stopped and nothing but nausea flowed up your lungs. “I-”

He wasn’t even angry, or disappointed. He chuckled with a fondness. “I’ve seen you spend half your life here, sweet girl. Watched you grow up alongside my own sons, and I’ve watched Jon be in love with you since the first day you ever arrived.” If you cried, you’d mess up the annoying amount of makeup they insisted on, but you felt a sob in your chest. “You made him happy, and he made you happy. For a time, a long time I thought that was enough. But I also know for a fact that Jon never saw marrying you as an option. He always was painfully aware of who you were.”

You felt the stinging, and you stood still in his hold. Forcing deep breaths to push away the panic.

“There’s a good number of things I regret about how I raised him. It doesn’t feel good knowing that he’s always felt inferior to Robb and now the woman he loves is marrying him too. If I could do it again, would I even be better. Force Roberts hand harder, be more honest with Cat, let him just be a Stark and there’d be nothing in his way for you. But I didn’t do that, nor do I know if I ever should’ve.”

Looking down, your arms crossed over your chest. “I don’t want you to assume I’m just thinking of Jon while I’m with Robb, it’s not that. I’ve known Robb for just as long, and we’ve always been just as close, save for, you know.” His hand was soothing like a true fathers comfort running up and down what he could reach of your arm.

“Here’s whats going to happen. I’m going to walk you out there to my son, you’ll kneel together before the Weirwood and pray and when you rise you’ll be a Stark. Part of you will always be a Baratheon, but you’ll also be our family now. And no matter what, wolves always protect those in their pack. I’m not going to assume the worst of you, because I know you better then that. You and Robb will be good for each other, and just because losing Jon hurts doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re not willing to love Robb.”

Looking up at him you frustratingly wipe at the tears, and he pulled you into a hug. One that you hadn’t felt in a very long time. It had been too long since you felt the hug, the love of a real father. Muttering into your hair, you could feel the same smirk that you could always sense on both brothers. “Besides, I can tell you for certain, having one night with your spouse before being dragged halfway across the country will do wonders for your heart.”

You laughed a lot at that one. Pulling away he looked you over, gently wiping away the rest of the tears on your cheeks. “Come on, sweet girl. You have a wolf waiting for you.”

If you were being honest, it was a blur. There were so many people, and most of them you’d never want present at your wedding in any lifetime. The golden hair of the Lannisters mocked you, the bored and judgmental sneer of your cousin annoyed you, and the silent watching of an Uncle who you barley knew anymore, but you were thankful that this wasn’t in a sept.

The crowd silent, no words spoken by anyone except you and Robb. He looked tall and fierce, curls shining more red in the peeking sun through the leaves, eyes bright and blue like the sea as he looked at nothing and no one but you. The fur around his shoulders making him look large like the wolf he was said to be, and soon it too would be yours.

Whatever small words you exchanged, you heard none of it but the blood in your veins. Thankful when Robb took your hand and knelt down with you, facing away from the crowd. The Seven was what you were raised to pray too, but you were a wolf now. And the wolves answered to the Old Gods.

A fate you were perhaps always meant to have, feeling much more heard in your silence of the Weirwood then you ever did in a sept. Eyes open, looking up the carved face at the same time, the crowd was silent, Robb grabbing both your hands to stand as he kept your eyes.

Draping the very fur he wore over your shoulders, he gently pulled you in with two fingers under your chin. This kiss was far softer and fairer then the one you shared in private, but this was also all your anxiety could handle. And Robb knew it.

Were it a more jovial occasion, it was tradition for a northern groom to carry the bride to the feast but Lord Stark had the sense to give you two a moment alone and King Robert was more then happy to direct the crowd to where the wine and food sat.

Your heart racing, Robb gently held your waist with his forehead pressed to yours. Eyes both shut as your hands rested on his chest. You left tomorrow, so all you had was now and tonight.

It’s what he demanded of you, and what he wanted, but it didn’t change the fact that it hurt Jon Snow a great deal to watch you marry his brother, and not once did he ever see the transfixing beauty in your eyes.

You didn’t look at him once, and Jon couldn’t get to the wall fast enough.

Truth be told, the first big laugh you had was at the sheer idea of your father here. Meals with him, there was no laughter or rambunctious behaviour. Just silence, diplomacy, and the mind numbing dings and clogs of Patchface. No joy in a meal under Stannis’s watch, except for the fool himself. Patchface there who was only lucky enough to be in a job, because gods help her, for whatever reason the fool made Shireen laugh.

You couldn’t imagine your father here. The drinking, the laughter, the never ending line of food, talk, and fun. Truth be told, you and Robb spent little time there. You glanced nervously at him more then once, and in your bubble of privacy he would rest a hand on your thigh firmly and a whisper in your ear to at least eat something.

Arya tried many times to come and talk to you, but Sansa yelled at her each time. Telling her to leave the two of you alone, the three of you girls would be in Kings Landing together anyways.

King Robert, on now one too many drinks made an innocuous comment about beds, or sex, or something vaguely incoherent and you and Robb looked to the other. You wide eyed and nervous, but there was something in his that settled it. Leaning to your ear, his voice felt like a rumble. “Normally I’m for tradition, but I’ll be damned if I let this lot see any of you like that.”

One of the men in the crowd had seen you like that, but with the way Robb looked at you, for once, Jon hadn’t crossed your mind. Too much nerves, too much wine, and a fat load of worry about being in a mans bed proper for the first time.

By the time the crowd noticed, Ned just chuckled at Roberts comments about the bride and groom slipping away before a gods honest tradition. “I told Cat I wasn’t going to let their be a bedding ceremony because I didn’t want to hurt someone on our wedding night.” Shrugging one shoulder, he grinned almost proud. “Glad to know my son’s the same.”

The worries of what was to come, ended up being broken slightly by the fact that as soon as Robb opened his door, Grey wind was sat in the middle of the bed. Large body splayed out like it was already bed time. Rising his head up at the sound of the door, you ended up bursting into laughter at Robb having to tell him twice to go.

Shutting it behind the growing direwolf, Robb shook his head something snarky on his tongue that died as he looked to you. Draped in his furs, furs that made you look far smaller and the gentle almost innocent look as you stepped around his room. You’d been in here countless times, slept in here countless times, but never like this.

Trying desperately to hold back your nerves, you looked out the open window focusing on steadying your heart. But the warmth of Robb enveloped your back as he reached over you, closing the windows and sealing you both alone. The crackling of a fire almost enough to hide the shaky breathe as Robb gently ran his hands down your arms.

Resting both on your waist, Robb wrapped one around your stomach, pulling you into his chest. He didn’t let you ruminate on the worry, dipping his head to level his mouth with your ear. “If you don’t want this, I need you to tell me.” Freezing in his arms, he spoke almost quieter but it raged so close to your ear. “We don’t have to do anything, but you need to be honest with me about it.”

You felt light on your feet. You’ve never heard this tone from Robb before, never so intimate in your ear and the deep rumblings of his voice felt as if something strong inside was being held back. The act itself scared you, it always had. But another part of you wondered if you should be fearful of the young wolf behind you, or if that fear excited you.

The arm around your stomach rose up, tilting your head to turn slightly to the side, enough that part of him was within your sight as he murmured your name. “I know you’ve never done this before, is it just that, that scares you or is it me?”

Shaking your head fervently, you startled him. “No, no it’s not you. It’s just- I should know what to expect by now but,” Taking a deep breathe you shut your eyes. “The girls in Kings Landing all talk about men and their first time like it’s painful, violent.”

Robb chuckled deeply, vibrating through his chest into your back and down between your legs. It was a dark laugh, and you felt overwhelmed at how little you really considered what he might be like. “It’s only painful if the man is a worthless, brute who thinks getting off is better then getting their lady off.”

Was your chest heaving with you hard you felt yourself breathing, your eyebrows raised and lips slightly parted you felt more waves between your legs and having it all be because of Robb was more then enough to leave you speechless. Reading your body like a book, Robb leaned down more, brushing his lips against your neck. Grinning at the sigh you unknowingly let out.

Turning slightly more you could see him a bit better. “Will it hurt?”

Smiling like a predator, he pulled you closer to him. “Only if you want it to.” Laughing at your breathless expression, asking why some women would want it to hurt. He moved a hand to your hip and pressed his lips closer to your jaw. “Don’t worry. If you want it, we’ll get there. Tonight’s not about that though.”

Suddenly pulling away he yanked his cloak enough that it slipped from your shoulders and pooled onto the ground. Turning you in his arms, Robb gripped the sides of your dress tightly in his fists before pulling it up and off you. The fact that you let him do that, not telling him how little you had on underneath might have been a dangerous idea.

Usually such a dress was worn with layers underneath, and yet, all that remained on you was that which covered your most lower regions. Your softness, plush skin, and tits all on display. Holding your hips, Robb closed his eyes breathing deep for a moment. “For a girl whose never done this before, this is awfully naughty of you.”

Indeed was the charming boy no longer here, but a man, a wolf looking at his mate like prey.

Swallowing the pounding in your heart, you reached up to Robb, slowly pulling layers up and off of him for yourself. His hands were much more confident then yours were currently, but he stood still watching and letting you undress him at your own pace.

Staring was impolite, and yet Robb didn’t mind as you looked at his chest now totally free. Just as your fingers reached for his pants he snatched your hands. Raising them in the air as you gasped in surprise.

“This is about you. Lay down for me.”

Watching you with dark eyes, you couldn’t ignore how intensely he looked you up and down as you lay back on the top of his bed. Your palms bracing you up before being tossed back down as Robb suddenly climbed up the bed and over top of you. A hand on each side of your head as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “Do you trust me?”

Without even considering it, you answered the raw truth. “Always.”

One hand reached up, grabbing your jaw roughly as he pulled your lips back to his. This time he kissed you nothing like before. His kiss was rough, demanding and deep. Guiding your every move and commanding that you obey. He tugged your hip with his other hand up to press into his own and as you gasped, he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

Lightheaded, you surrendered to his touch. As if all will of your own bled out onto the bed leaving nothing but Robb to command you as he pleases, and yet the idea didn’t scare you the way it was described by others. Your hands reached up and grasped his waist, a small sound leaving your mouth into his.

Switching between tasting you with his tongue and biting at your lips it, Robb let go of your jaw and ran it behind your head and grasped your hair tightly. Pressing his body down firmly, his hips naturally rutted into yours. He smirked as you gasped.

The rougher he kissed you, the more your hands moved on their own. Reaching behind his neck and wrapping around it to sink into his hair he ground his hips into you harder. A gentle moan leaving you, Robb left your lips, running the same ferocity down your neck. His lips and teeth no doubt leaving marks that a proper lady should be ashamed of.

He didn’t quite stop, kissing down your neck more until he reached your breasts. Grinning at how hard you were breathing, he stopped that right in it’s tracks as his hands cupped your chest. A needy cry left your lips, turning to a longer moan as Robb ran this thumbs over your nipples. Just as one hand grasped one, did he lower his mouth to bite at the other.

Pleasure shooting through you, your back arched into his body and limbs felt like they seized from the pleasure. His teeth switching between a gentle nibble and a harsher bite just to pull a gasp from you, he played you like an instrument. Getting every sound from your pretty lips that made his cock that much harder.

Pulling away, he hovered over you looking down at the almost in awe expression. You weren’t used to such a side to this man, and he seemed to reveal in your innocence over it. Leaning back more, you followed the sight of his dark eyes, parted lips and down his chest to where he hands slowly pulled at his pants.

Swallowing hard, he tilted your head up his a hand firmly at your jaw. “Keep your eyes on me.” Not letting you look down as he stripped himself bare. “Good girl, keep them on me and only me.” Slowly moving down the bed he pulled your hips to, grabbing your underwear and pulling them down.

The coolness of outside did nothing to take away how warm and wet you were between your legs, and Robb forced you to stay on his face. Making you look at his eyes, greedily pushing your knees apart and expression turning dark as he stared at you. A slightly whimper leaving you, he leaned back over you, one hand running over your thigh, first on the outside, then inside, and slowly upwards.

Just as he reached you, Robb bit at your bottom lip. Using the chance to slip his tongue inside you just as he ran his hand over you. Cupping you entirely and already he smirked into the kiss at how soaked you were. Lips brushing yours as he pulled back enough to speak, his fingers gently running back and forth across your soaked slit. “Good girls don’t get this wet, do they?”

Shaking your head no, all you could do was hear his voice. Eye slipping closed as your legs shook and a coil within you twisted at such an easy touch. Robb continued. “No, good girls are sweet and innocent. This doesn’t feel very innocent to me.” Two fingers now soaked danced up and ran across your clit.

Jumping at the shock of pleasure, you grasped him by the shoulders with a whine. “It’s all for you-”

Stammering the words out as Robb now rubbed tight circles against your clit. Your muscles tensing and his own hips refusing to let you close them you had to just take it. His other fingers still soaking up whatever you drenched him with. “I know it is. You ready for me to open you up? Make you cum before you take me?”

You’d say yes to pretty much anything Robb asked of you right now. Nodding, you leaned up to kiss him, making him smile into your lips as he slipped two soaked fingers deep inside to his knuckles. You gasped so loudly, were the windows not closed no doubt the outside world would’ve heard you. Sinking them deep in one go, you writhed in his touch.

Robb slowly slid them out and back, the wetness between you making the sound obscene, but it was the only music Robb could stand to hear. He never picked up the pace, but he did, right as you tensed in his touch? Stopped rubbing at your clit, and slit a third finger down to sink inside you with the others.

You cried his name and he kissed down your neck as he slowly pumped them inside of you. Clenching around his fingers he bit your skin harder trying to force his cock to shut up. Screaming at him like a howling wolf to just take you already.

Pulling back from your lips he looked you in the eye, feeling you clench around him as your sounds grew higher. Something burned hot inside of you as the other twisted and turned so tightly. One free hand, Robb ran over your lips, and something sweet inside you, pressed a gentle kiss to his fingers as he did so.

In return? He ran his thumb roughly over your clit as pumped his fingers slow and deep into you as you came around them. You moaned his name, but muffled it as Robb gently sunk two fingers into your mouth at the same time. One hand grasped his wrist, and yet even as you came something inside you obeyed like you were a submitting prey.

Robb almost snarled at how well you sucked on his fingers, and how he wished you two had more time then tonight. He couldn’t stop the thought of how beautiful you would look on your knees before him, obediently sucking on his cock with his hand guiding you up and down his length tight in your hair.

Pulling out of you Robb pulled your body up to press against his bare one and kissed you full of tongue and a greedy desperation. A desperation you yearned for back. It was a strained rasp of your own in his ear that had him shudder. “Please, Robb. Please fuck me.”

It didn’t even occur to you to try and be sweet or innocent about it. You could feel his cock pressing against you between your still shaking legs and you felt lightheaded at how thick it felt against you. Kissing your ear, he murmured much more gentle, “Are you sure?” As you nodded he bit your earlobe and hissed into it. “Out loud.”

Nodding again, your hands wrapped around his neck as you kissed him. “I’m sure, I want you.”

Kneeling up on the bed, Robb ran his hand gently down the side of your body. His dark eyes soft for just a little while longer, as you felt something in your chest at him. Pulling your hips more up into his lap you think you understood why he kept his eyes on you.

His chest led down to coarse, rough hair surrounding a long, thick cock that you wondered if it would even fully fit in your hand. Your chest heaved as you stared, and he slipped into a deeper tone. “It’s not polite to stare.”

Slipping a hand behind your head, Robb kept you looking down, watching as he ran the tip of his cock over your entrance, up brushing against your clit and back down. Barley sliding in each time until you begged his name once more. This time Robb watched your eyes, as he kept your head looking down to watch him slide his cock inside you.

He was thick, and the stretch itself stung in a way that made you gasp but not a pain that you had feared from it. No, the deeper he sunk the more you soaked his cock. Only halfway in, Robb tugged your hair to look up at him before he in a much more punishing thrust, bottomed out.

His face snarled at how tight, how warm and soaking wet you cunt was and he pulled you right back into an equally as rough kiss. He didn’t go fast, but part of him reasoned to go more gentle, and yet?

Your cries, your begs of his name as each slow, rough fuck had your arching your back into his body all the more. Each pound of his cock inside of you slapped loudly in a way that had him grip your hips so tight, you could already feel the bruises.

Sweat built up on both your bodies and you ran your hand through his own increasingly damp curls, scratching his scalp with your nails that had him fuck into you harder each time. For all his talk, little thoughts came to his mind as Robb fucked you.

Like something of an animal took over and all he could think of was how much he wanted to fuck you more, harder, faster, fill you until his cum spilled out of you and then fill you more. You cried out, nails scratching down his back without even realizing you were doing so, but muffling each sound as you bit into the meat of his shoulder. Robb, fucked you harder and struggled to stay slow.

You clenched tightly, enough that he had to pound into your cunt roughly just to sink as deep as he could inside and pulling away enough he could see tears at the side of your eyes but you rather then begging for mercy, begged for more as you kissed him.

His hands held your knees, pushing as wide as possible as Robb lost composure. Fucking you faster and just as one hand moved to rub at your clit you came around him. Robb leaving your other knee to press his hand against your mouth at how little you could contain your cries.

Fucking into you once, twice, five more times he pushed inside as deep as he could sink and filled you with him. His cum warm and thick, it felt like there was so much more of it then a normal man would have but you let Robb pull you into another kiss, this one rough and sloppy as he filled you with his cum as his tongue did your mouth.

Never leaving, his hands eventually turned soothing, his kiss softer and his voice not commanding but assuring. Telling you how good you did, how perfect you were. Holding you in his arms and him yours, it was just the two of you in that moment and nothing more.

It was only when you started to laugh, did Robb laugh. Yanking you into his chest as he flopped onto his back with you on top of him. Kissing you gently as he ran a hand over your hair. “Aye, a man could get used to this.”

He should’ve let you rest, but he took you once more that night. This time, far less able to hold back how fast and greedy he wanted to be about fucking you. The only downside, was how exhausted the night made you.

Slipping into a deep sleep, that only meant morning would come quicker. And too quick it did.

That morning, you both stayed in bed as long as you could. Robbs back against the wall and you against his chest, far less worried about the lack of clothes either of you still had. “You were born for this, Robb. It’s not in you to fail.”

Kissing the side of your head, things were feeling a bit easier, a bit more normal between you even in such an intimate manner. “Everyone says that right up until they fail.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned. Leaving his grasp to gently face him, your body in his lap. Hands on his chest, your eyes often trailed over him. He didn’t question your gaze, you had to get used to him as much as he was getting used to you. It was still new, no matter how much a decade and a half of friendship had formed the foundation.

No joke was in your face though. “I’m serious, Robb. Even if you don’t believe in yourself?” Shrugging one shoulder you smiled softly, “I’m your wife now, so I’ll just do all the believing for you.”

Squeezing your hip, he rolled his own eyes. “And let you do all the work? We’re a team, remember?”

Saying goodbye to Robb however, was easier then what waited for you outside.

Packing up your hose, you heard the two of them in the distance. “My mother?”

“She was very kind.” You tensed slightly, hoping no one noticed but you very much doubted kind was the genuine word Jon should be using. He didn’t deserve her ire, not now, not ever.

“Next time I see you, you’ll be all in black.”

“It was always my colour.”

Your eyes closed, trying to tune their goodbye out. You had no right to invade their privacy.

Part of you hoped he would ignore you. You wouldn’t have to handle this and you could ignore it, but Jon knew you way better then that. You’d hate yourself if you left it at this. Reaching over you, Jon pulled part of your things up and secured it without even saying a word. Looking up, he was closer then you thought.

Looking at each other, the responsible thing would be to nod, shake hands, say a cordial goodbye. But Jon stood with his bright eyes, a grey so deep they looked black at times and you wanted to cry. You felt pathetic for being hardly able to hold back such a display of emotions, but the love that Jon had looked at you with for so many years was as strong as it always was.

You had no doubt that you looked just the same.

Jon pulled you into a hug, one too tight and too emotional for the company around and yet neither of you cared. Neither of you knew if this would be the last time, and both of you resented the world for forcing that as a possibility. His hand held you to him from the back of your head as you sunk your face partway into his neck and the other into the fur around him. “I miss you.”

“I miss you.”

Already, even in the others arms, the grieving already begun. Pulling back, you held at his shoulders and he shamelessly cupped the side of your cheeks. “Think I could get to the wall before they catch me, if I kiss you now?”

You burst into a laugh, one bordering too close on a cry. But you tilted your head. “Now or never, Snow.”

The kiss was pressed to your cheek, slow and unrushed before hugging you once more. For too many years you and Jon ignored the inevitability of having to separate like this, and it sat deep and uncomfortable in your stomach to do so. Like leaving the other behind would be a mistake in the long run, but you couldn’t understand why your soul screamed at you to not make it. You knelt down, kissing Ghost on the forehead as he licked at your cheek, whispering to him. “Protect him, no matter what you hear me? Next time I see him, you better make sure he’s as healthy as you are now.”

Seeing the other Starks approaching, you two looked at the other one last time so close you could feel the other. You took off with the company as they all headed out to the Kingsroad, giving enough space for Lord Stark to speak to his son alone before they too parted ways.

You couldn’t hear what they talked about, but you knew Jon Snow better then anyone to guess. As his father turned to leave, you and Jon looked from the distance at the other once more. You said nothing and neither did he. His life was up north now, and yours is both by Lord Stark’s side and your future with your husband. A future you wanted, and one Jon didn’t want to get in the way of. But as you both rode off in opposite directions, that sinking feeling in your gut just screamed louder, the further away you both got.

Neither of you having any idea, what horrors would bring you two back to one another.

[arellabella]

One thing that use to really annoy me about ASOIAF fandom was the insistence that Theon was the one who sacked Winterfell and this was and still is something that many believe.

It was absolutely astonishing to me because we know who sacked Winterfell, it is shown to us in Theon's last ACOK chapter. So why do many believe that Theon was the one who sacked Winterfell and not Ramsay?

It's not until recently I've figured out the answer, mostly because I'm older and wiser. There's a saying if you repeat a narrative long enough it becomes the "truth".

We might have seen what happened in ACOK and who is actually responsible for the sacking but we spend every book after that with the narrative that Theon was the one who sacked Winterfell and it's a narrative either believed and accepted by everyone or a narrative that has yet to be corrected. The only brief time we see it corrected was during Davos' chapters with Wex but not even Theon has yet to correct it. He has corrected the fact he didn't kill Bran and Rickon, though mostly to himself but not on the sacking.

To make the narrative even more believable from a reader's stand point is that no one that thinks to ask questions espeically those who knew Theon.

Jon doesn't think Theon would kill Bran or Rickon but he has no doubts about Theon burning Winterfell to the ground. The idea that might not be true has never crossed his mind like it does with the deaths of Bran and Rickon.

Robb doesn't question either and nor does Catelyn.

And I think this plays into the narrative being believed rather than the truth even if we have seen the truth with our own eyes. Because if even those who know Theon have no doubts about his guilt in the Sack of Winterfell then it must be true. Right? Afterall Robb, Jon and Catelyn are quite good judges of character and on top of that Theon has lived with them for 10 years so if they believe it then we have to believe it. Right?

Add on another layer that not everyone will read Theon's chapters twice either because they don't know his character, because they don't those chapters as important to the overarching story or even with Theon fans I know some will skip his ACOK chapters because they don't like him in those chapters but do his ADWD chapters.

So the real culprits who was behind the sacking are forgotten about through this constant false narrative that is repeating constantly in ASOS, AFFC and ADWD.

Repeating narratives can twist the truth and make people doubt what they saw with their own eyes or what they remember.

I really don't know if this was something GRRM has done on purpose but if he has it's absolute genius on his part because sometimes a narrative can become the "truth" if it's repeated.

[mamawasatesttube]

Sorry, I know you don’t really like people bringing up Jason but I’m very curious. I read Straight on Till Morning several times before really joining Tumblr and I was surprised by how much you seem to dislike him compared to how nicely he was written in said fic. Is it cuz it’s a future fic so he can be more chilled out than in current comics or something?

Feel free to ignore me if you want. Curiosity does not owe me answers.

no worries, i don't mind polite questions! :P

so there's two things. a) sotm was written when the only real comics i'd read were sb94, yj98, tt03, batgirl (2000), and nightwing '96 (iirc - i might be forgetting one or two but the point is, when i was pretty new to comics). at this point wfa had tricked me into thinking jason actually had a consistent character arc that i simply hadn't read yet, and i assumed it would be weird to write a fic where dick, tim, and cass were all around as kon's friends + damian was there being jon's friend in the background, but jason didn't get mentioned, so i worked him in bc i thought that was like. gonna be weird if i didn't, even tho i didn't know what he was doing in postcrisis yet. i mostly just wanted to write about kon and did not yet have the strong "actually i do not care for 99% of post-rebirth comics" feelings i have today. if i were to do the sotm rewrite in my mind, jason would actually still be in his villain to antivillain era because that's my actual favorite era of him. i think it's fun when he's hanging around being like... a vengeful ghost who's just determined to make his problems Everyone's Problem. i'm not really interested in soft angsty daddy's boy jtodd or whatever sdkjfh and that seems to be the most popular version of him i see. it's either soft angsty daddy's boy jason or it's power fantasy cop-adjacent jason who has never done anything wrong in his life and is completely valid in every decision he's ever made. neither of these interests me.

which brings me to b) it's not so much that i dislike jason todd as a character so much as that his fans are so fucking annoying to me. that chapter of sotm? multiple people in the comments were there ONLY to talk about jason, even though the fic is literally about kon and not about jason and he just happens to appear for PART of one scene that chapter. it made me get sick of hearing about him. like theres soooo many jason todd fics out there can you go read those. i want to talk about kon! and i've had people bring him up on my completely unrelated fics too like he doesn't even get MENTIONED like one fic is about clark kon and tim, and someone was in the comments like "omg i bet clark was thinking about jason here" and i was so ... dude. read the room. or the fic even. it is not about him.

but even more than the way a lot of jason fans have this apparently compulsive need to make him the main character of the entire universe, i really can't stand how many of them i've seen spout literal straight up copaganda and/or defense of the death penalty. like they will bend over backwards so hard to defend why he was right to put 8 heads in a duffel bag or why it's morally correct to kill rapists that they start spewing right-wing talking points. and the constant need to make him the perfect imperfect victim ("he's angry and loud unlike GOOD victims--") and all of that just... it really turns me off of 99% of fan content about him that i've seen. it makes me genuinely kind of uncomfortable. like if you think there's a category of criminal that it's okay to execute (without a trial, even) i want nothing to do with you. can you guys just say it's sexy when a man is covered in blood after murdering a room full of people without having to be like "and he was right to do it too!!" because i promise he was not. and if you SAY any of this people will come up with a whole thing about how you must hate victims and/or poor people or some shit. its... really something.

all of that being said - i think there are interesting things you COULD do with his character. i think he can be a fascinating character! with stories worth telling! the family tragedy, the horror story, the vengeful ghost! but at this point with how rancid i find his fanbase i just really only want to see jason takes from people i know will not start spewing copaganda at me + people who i know appreciate tim kicking him in the balls (bc he kicked dick in the balls and tim is a bitch).

anyways. bring back tentatodd 2k25 who's with me

[transdimensional-void]

jon, sansa, and “my half brother”

i’ve noticed that this particular jon quote is something of a rorschach test wherein your reading of the line is colored by your view of sansa:

He missed the girls too, even Sansa, who never called him anything but “my half brother” since she was old enough to understand what bastard meant. – AGOT, Jon III 

those who assume the worst of sansa read this as “once sansa learned i was a bastard, she changed how she referred to me in order to constantly remind me of my inferior status.” a slightly more charitable reading would be something more like, “once sansa learned i was a bastard, she stopped seeing me as equal to her other brothers.” both assume that sansa originally called jon “brother” and changed to “half brother” once she learned he was a bastard. 

those who are more inclined to a favorable view of sansa, though, might instead read it as “once sansa learned what the word bastard meant, she chose to call me something else.” this reading assumes that a younger, more ignorant sansa called jon a bastard without understanding what she was saying--but changed what she called jon to “half brother” once she did understand.

i tend to believe the second reading is the correct one because it better fits both the context of the quote and the evidence presented by sansa’s own words and actions throughout the series. in terms of evidence, we never witness her calling jon a bastard to his face, whether in her memories, his or anyone else’s--and we do witness her conscious care for courtesy and kindness toward those she interacts with no matter what she thinks of them inwardly. as for the context of the quote, jon thinks this about sansa in the midst of a chapter where people at the wall are repeatedly calling him bastard derisively, as well as the mocking “lord snow.” but the section where the line about sansa appears is a section where he is thinking nostalgically about his siblings back at winterfell. it makes sense that he is missing sansa’s courtesy of not calling him bastard to his face right at that moment.

but i noticed that the pre-released alayne chapter from twow actually subtly gives us sansa’s perspective on the above agot jon quote.

in the chapter, she meets harry hardyng for the first time, and the very first thing he does is call her “littlefinger’s bastard”:

“If it please you, I will show you to your chambers myself.” This time her eyes met Harry’s. She smiled just for him, and said a silent prayer to the Maiden. Please, he doesn’t need to love me, just make him like me, just a little, that would be enough for now.

Ser Harrold looked down at her coldly. “Why should it please me to be escorted anywhere by Littlefinger’s bastard?”

All three Waynwoods looked at him askance. “You are a guest here, Harry,” Lady Anya reminded him, in a frosty voice. “See that you remember that.”

sansa blushes in embarrassment and has to work hard to hold back her tears. she finds his treatment of her hurtful. but why? because a boy she wanted to like her was mean to her? 

well, fortunately for us, sansa herself tells us what is most upsetting her about the interaction, later when she is able to discuss it in private with littlefinger:

“And how was your first meeting with Harry the Heir?”

“He’s horrible.”

“The world is full of horrors, sweet. By now you ought to know that. You’ve seen enough of them.”

“Yes,” she said, “but why must he be so cruel? He called me your bastard. Right in the yard, in front of everyone.”

sansa isn’t upset merely because harry was mean to her. what she is fixated on the most is the cruelty of his calling her bastard to her face in public. she is shocked that someone would be so callously cruel. keep in mind that this is a post-KL arc sansa who, as littlefinger helpfully points out in the same scene, has already experienced many of the world’s horrors. and yet, harry’s behavior here still shocks her.

jon tells us that at a young age, sansa learned what people meant when they called him a bastard, and that changed how she spoke to him. thirteen-year-old sansa tells us she thinks it’s shockingly cruel for a nobleman like harry to publicly call a bastard a bastard. with these two facts in mind, what sense does it make to conclude that younger sansa was going around intentionally reminding jon of his bastard status through her choice of language?

once again, someone inclined to assume the worst of sansa might choose to read her response in the twow chapter as “she can dish it out, but she can’t take it” and see it as her finally learning how her treatment made jon feel. however, in jon’s quote above, he explicitly says that she “never called him anything but ‘my half-brother.’” 

in other words, jon himself tells us that he never heard her call him “bastard,” at least not once she had learned what the word meant. in other words, even if you are assuming the worst of sansa, based on jon’s own testimony, her treatment of him (always calling him “my half-brother”) was better than harry’s treatment of her in the twow scene (calling her a bastard to her face in public). it is also, importantly, better than the treatment jon is receiving from many of his “brothers” at the wall in the scene his quote comes from him.

if we interpret sansa’s decision to call jon “half-brother” through the lens of her twow alayne chapter, i believe it becomes abundantly clear that in the jon scene, he is reminiscing nostalgically about sansa’s kindness in choosing not to call him a bastard. sansa’s choice of “half-brother” was a reflection of her understanding that calling him bastard was shockingly cruel behavior.

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

I understand that there is a sizable amount of Jon stans whose delusions can be aggravating. Trust me, I’ve come across my fair share of people who think that the sun rises only for Jon Snow and no one else. But, it’s really annoying when certain sections of this fandom act like reading Jon as Azor Ahai is a result of Jon fans making shit up. No, we’re not. We’re literally reading what the text is telling us. We’re not reading into it, we’re reading it straight up. Mel’s singular ADWD chapter is literally just: hey Mel pay attention to Jon Snow, also there’s random stuff happening all over Westeros, and also pay extra attention to Jon Snow.

Mel’s visions are absolutely correct. What’s not correct is how she interprets them to fit an agenda/make herself appear more credible to others (Jon, Stannis). We already know exactly what this looks like when she sees towers being submerged in water, says it’s Eastwatch by the Sea when asked, even though in her head she’s like “oh it can’t be Eastwatch because that place doesn’t look like that”.

ADWD shows us that Mel looks into her fires searching for Azor Ahai and sees “only Snow”. There’s no other way of reading that other than “oh yeah if Mel is specifically looking for Azor Ahai and is seeing Jon Snow, then Jon is the Azor Ahai she’s looking for”. And the gag with this is Mel’s entire purpose, her existence, is to find Azor Ahai. But she completely misidentifies him so when she encounters the real deal, she’s in far too deep to make the obvious and necessary pivot. And it’s even funnier (and I think that’s what GRRM is going for) when there’s nothing special about Mel’s chosen hero Stannis, but there’s a lot that is special about the one she’s ignoring: Jon. Mel literally tells Jon “you’re a super special magic boy let’s make babies because of how super special you are, and these babies will be even more powerful than the ones I made with Stannis” but at the same time being like “yeah mr not-that-special Stannis is totally the guy I’m looking for”.

Plus, Mel’s “only Snow” is quite literally reaffirmed in Jon XII when he dreams himself atop the wall, armored in ice, and wielding LIGHTBRINGER. This isn’t some ordinary flaming sword. This sword burns “red in his fist”, which literally equates it to “the red sword of heroes” - Azor Ahai’s sword. Not only that but Mel’s ptwp is definitely going to be reborn. She has visions about a grey girl on a dying horse WHICH IS TRUE!! What’s not true is this girl being Arya. It’s Alys Karstark. She then has visions about daggers in the dark, which again happens!! Read the last few pages of Jon XIII ADWD. The one that hasn’t come yet but will (based on Jon XIII) is a “promised prince born amidst salt and smoke”. There’s a reason why GRRM included these things in the narrative. And there’s a reason why they happen sequentially. So unless Winds comes out and GRRM is like sike forget that ever happened, it’s pretty safe to assume that Jon is Azor Ahai.

[syndrossi]

resonant ch31 dvd commentary

This one was a doozy, as everyone on Tumblr had a front row view of. I wasn't thrilled with the draft on Thursday, but after some additional eyes and another comprehensive round of edits, I'm happy with how it turned out.

You can really see my struggles with it in the words cut, which were a minimum of 1500 (those are the ones where I extracted more than one paragraph into my scraps doc).

Favorite line(s):

The walk back to the holdfast was like a slow wakening from a dream, and yet Daemon felt desperately tired, his body aching with a fatigue so deep it seemed to scrape the very marrow of his bones.

I was quite proud of the visceral feel of this one.

Jon stood without meaning to, Jon Redfort’s hurt mingling with the rage that surged within his chest. “She hated him. She hated every reminder of him. They dyed Rhaegar’s hair until they couldn’t, and even before that, she could barely look at him. She loved me,” he said, the words choking him, the truth of it almost unbearable, Lady Stark’s love through a distorted mirror, only this time, he was Robb. “And Raymar would cry himself to sleep, convinced it was his own failing.”

The theme of Jon's role being flipped so that he is now in Robb's shoes is one we've been exploring since chapter one, where he notices the way Raymar is treated vs him. It's such a painful thing to deal with, because it both stirs memories of his own treatment by Lady Stark, and the guilt that Jon Redfort has always felt about it. Even though it's not directed at him, the secondhand experience through Raymar reopens those wounds.

Jon dealing with the part of him that is Jon Redfort is another theme we'll explore later on, particularly during the Runestone arc, but we're seeding some of his struggles now.

(Jon continually urging Rhaegar not to mourn Rhea is partly born of this, too. On some level, he believes she does not deserve his grief. And it's easier for him to ignore his own grief that way, or avoid dealing with the guilt-tangled love her feels for her.)

Favorite Details

Marriage hunt

Since the harvest ball is approaching and pretty much all of the marriage-minded misses of the court have been carrying out their pursuits offscreen/in non-canon missing scenes, it felt appropriate to sprinkle in a few hints of what's going on in the background as Daemon and the twins deal with more pressing matters.

Daemon's chair

It's hard to explain in narrative format where Jon was sitting/where Daemon always sits, but it's basically at the end/"head" of the table, while Viserys usually sits at the end of the side facing the window. It killed me a little when I realized that's where I've always written Daemon sitting in his scenes there with Viserys, and it's so obvious why: it's the closest Daemon can get to feeling like his brother's Hand. Similarly, Viserys seats him in an inverted version of that during their supper the first night in King's Landing, with Viserys at the head and Daemon to his side.

Dynamics

Jon & Viserys

This was a fun one to finally write, since we've only had brief interactions between them, from other POVs (Daemon, Otto, Rhaenys). Viserys sees Jon as a mixture of Daemon and Baelon throughout this scene, with Baelon coming out more toward the end. And we can see Viserys respond to Daemon-y Jon in a similar way that he might to Daemon, by getting defensive/frustrated.

Viserys is in a weird place with the candle business where he accepts, generally, that magic is a thing. The boys are fireproof, there is a prophecy that he thinks they will fulfill, he's read about the distant communication made possible by the dragonglass candles of Valyria, and he's seen the red candle spark to life, just as the black ones did once or twice when he was a boy.

But Jon is a child, and unlike Daemon, Viserys has a fairly good understanding of what an eight-year-old is generally like, so he approaches wild claims of high magic with a fair bit of skepticism. Over time, I expect this will change.

I enjoyed weaving in both Baelon and Daemon through the conversation, and the past bond Viserys had with his brother. Viserys absolutely cut little!Daemon's apples for him when he was old enough to carry his own knife. (As did Baelon.) And even throwing in some of Jon's impressions of Viserys and Daemon are alike and not.

And even a few small parallels between Viserys and Jon that I doubt many people will draw: an unwillingness to give up control (Jon not wanting to tell Daemon about the drag marks in the secret passage) and not trusting their brother (Jon, at the end, deciding to "protect" Rhaegar by not letting him in on his plan to go after the candle). They both are convinced of their own mandate to solve problems (the prophecy for Viserys, the candle for Jon).

Daemon & Rhaegar

Rhaegar was in a special hell with Daemon in the latter part of the chapter. He's operating at maximum Aerys damage-control mode there, reading Daemon at speeds enviable by modern CPUs so that he can figure out how to defuse the situation / "fix" him before any (unintentional) harm is done. And the parallels with Aerys's paranoia are incredibly uncomfortable, even if he understands that Daemon is suffering under an outside influence.

It's also terrifying being an eight-year-old child and being dragged along to the dragon enclosure by a father who doesn't seem to hear a word you're saying (or care, if it were Aerys), and you're pretty convinced this is some candle magic at work, but how do you stop him if he decides to take off with you on dragonback? And even if he's unwilling to force you, can you really let him go by himself, in such a vulnerable state?

Meanwhile, Rhaegar better be careful about his plan to claim that the bruise is the result of a training accident, because a blow from a wooden blade doesn't go all the way around the arm, kiddo. Imagine Daemon thinking he's trying to protect Cole after being handled roughly by him. Or just his response in general to his sons downplaying injuries that were clearly dealt by an adult.

@inkykate asked for Rhaegar's POV here for the upcoming winter promptathon, and I'm very tempted!

Quick-hitters

Lady Sera and Lady Dynessa are both from this little impromptu ficlet.

Originally, there was a plot thread where Jon and Rhaegar discussed telling Erryk and Arryk about the candle. At one point, it was in their debriefing at the start of the chapter, a request from Jon to Viserys during their breakfast scene, and even the start of a scene where they actually tell the Cargyll brothers. I cut it because there was a lot going on already and we can revisit it later.

The Rhea grief/anger outburst from Jon caught me by as much surprise as Viserys, but it was lurking beneath the surface. And I cry at a dime, so you can bet I was a mess writing it.

Can we appreciate for a moment the breathtaking gall of Viserys telling Jon he should be grateful for him repeatedly banishing Daemon because it resulted in his birth? Imagine him saying as much to Daemon himself!

The candle is candling hard.

I didn't go into the dragon dynamics with Daemon because this is already quite long, but there was some interesting stuff there for those with a keen eye, including hints at how some of the candle's (sorcerer's?) magic works.

Daemon actually did something so unthinkable (hurting Rhaegar) that Qelebrys hissed at her beloved not-Rhaegar. The heartbreak!

Lots of people keeping things to themselves. So far, for example, Daemon hasn't mentioned the bounty on him to anyone.

I have fun with Rhaegar's strengths vs Jon's, especially when it comes to dragons. Jon has a fairly significant leg-up with his warging experiences and his former quasi-bond with Rhaegal, but Rhaegar is basically a horse girl, except with dragons, so what he lacked for originally in experience, he's making up quickly. But I also like to throw in nods to Jon being able to pick things up that he's discovered very quickly, once shown/pointed out.

Finally, there were quite a few bits cut out of the chapter. I'll probably throw them in a separate post later, since this is pretty long!

[unmotivatedwrit3r]

One in Eleven Million (ch. 3)

damian wayne x reader x jonathan kent

(A/N): Can you tell my ADHD brain has no sense of time? I was fully like 'oh yeah it's been a week' and it's actually been 3, I am so sorry. Thank you to everyone following this series; it is complete so I swear you will get the full story! (Also shoutout to @glorified-red for body doubling w/ me and being overall amazing; I appreciate you.)

Previous chapters linked here and here.

wc: ~1050

warnings: mentions of non-graphic injury

~~

Damian’s bicep throbbed and he switched his rolling carry-on to his other hand. He’d disinfected, stitched, and wrapped the bullet graze, but that was hours ago now and he hadn’t kept any painkillers in his backpack. Even if they weren’t in his carry-on, he wouldn’t have pulled them out on the plane. As much as he’d learned about the stranger he and Jon were sitting with, he didn’t trust you enough for that. 

Jon’s carry-on bag was loud, wheels clattering against the floor and echoing in the mostly empty airport. It was a small bag and a cheap one, bought mostly for appearances and convenience. Damian’s, on the other hand, was from a safe house 90 minutes away from the airport. It was the only reason he hadn’t been stopped at security with Batman WE technology in the hidden compartment. Jon’s suit—sans the belt in Damian’s suitcase—got through security with no problems. 

He may not trust them farther than Jon could presently throw them, but Damian could at least admit that the stranger on the plane was an unexpected boon. With Jon already on edge from the solar flare and subsequent stranding and Damian himself running on not enough sleep and an even smaller social battery, having a gruff, immoveable asshole in between them would have made the flight more torturous than it was destined to be. With these delays, even more so. A childish part of Damian wanted to call Richard back and say that they did need a pick-up, actually. Some combination of pride and exhaustion stopped him. A few steps ahead, Jon’s laugh rang out, joined quickly by a laugh made familiar by only the last few hours. 

Fine so it was pride, exhaustion, and seeing Jon happy. Sue him. 

While Jon followed your—yes he knew your name, he just didn’t know you enough to use it yet—guidance through the airport, Damian watched the signs. The literal ones and the body language ones. Nothing on the plane ride had given him reason to think the stranger meant any harm, but Damian was raised with extreme paranoia on all sides of his family. Jon was his family too, though, and with his super senses compromised, Damian’s instinct would have to do. 

“Okay so since this is a shuttle, I think it’s this door.” Damian looked up at the sign you were pointing to. Zone 8, it read, Airport Shuttles. Jon shrugged.

“Looks right.”

He took the lead this time and you followed. Damian stayed behind, eyes catching on your backpack. You don’t have clothes with you, he remembered. By the looks of it, you didn’t have much with you at all. 

There was a shuttle leaving by the time the three of you reached the platform. 

“Excuse me,” you asked a woman standing nearby. Damian vaguely recognized her from the boarding line. “Are you here for the hotel shuttles?” The woman turned around, launching into a tirade.

Damian took the distraction for a chance to talk to Jon. 

“No change right?” Jon shook his head, hands rubbing up and down his arms. 

“None. I didn’t really expect any this early. Maybe tomorrow if I’m lucky? Or the day after.” 

Damian swung his backpack off of his shoulder to pull his jacket off. 

“You’re not regulating temperature properly—” 

Jon’s hand on his arm stopped him. 

“Your arm.” Damian cursed under his breath and pulled the jacket back on. 

“How long’s it been since you changed that?” Jon asked. 

“I’ll change it at the hotel, it’s fine.” 

“It’s not.” 

In the corner of his eye, Damian watched you extricate yourself from the tirade. 

“You’re not one to talk, currently,” he said. “It’s barely chilly out and you’re shivering.” Jon’s response was curtailed by your return. 

“Oh but the Metropolis folks aren’t built for this kind of weather, don’t you know? It’s clear skies with a chance of red cape sightings over there.” Your own jacket was still on, though unzipped. 

A snort of laughter escaped Damian before he could hold it back. Damian blamed it on the fatigue. He blamed the spark of gratification he got when you delighted in his reaction on that too. Jon rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah yeah, very funny.”

Your eyes locked onto something behind Jon and Damian tracked your gaze to the shuttle. Jon took a step back as it parked right beside him. 

“Bluiett, Archanza, Helioz!” Yelled the driver. 

Jon extended his arm, ushering you inside. 

“After you.” 

“Thanks.” 

Damian clambered on after Jon. He’d taken a seat across from you. Damian sat next to him. 

The shuttle ride was, for the most part, quiet until the first stop. 

“I don’t have any pajamas,” you lamented, head dropping back against the window behind you. “Or toiletries.” 

Damian wasn’t sure if you were expecting an answer, even if he did know what to say. Jon’s eyebrows wrinkled. Damian thought his thinking face was adorable. Jon thought it was embarrassing.

“You can borrow something of mine if you want?” Jon offered. Damian held back a smile. Jon had very little clothes-wise in his carry on—just sweatpants, an extra set of jeans, a t-shirt or two, and underwear. And a Superman suit. But still, he offered. You smiled awkwardly, eyes dipping down to where your own backpack rested on your lap. 

“Um, no I’m good. But thanks.” 

Damian’s eyes tracked your face. For the first time all evening, he found what he was looking for. You didn’t quite trust them either, not yet. You were wary of them. Not afraid, not like you were when you got on the plane, but wary. Jon and he were strangers and you knew it. 

“Even hotels as bad as these should provide some sort of soap,” Damian offered. 

For the first time all night, your hopeful smile was directed at him. 

“Yeah, I forgot about that, thanks.” The relief in your voice told him you were being genuine. Damian nodded in return, giving into the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“I think I’m taking sleep over a shower anyway,” Jon added. 

“Easy for you to say when there’s options,” you teased back at him. Damian might not have laughed the way Jon did, but he cracked a smile nonetheless.When the three of you parted in the hotel elevator—you on your own on the second floor and he and Jon together on the third—Damian might not have known everything there was to know about you, but his instincts whispered trust. Good enough for him.

[jingleshoes]

~~Blinked Out~~

Chapter One

SPOILER ALERT FOR ANYONE WHO HASNT FINISHED TMA OR SEASON 1 OF TMP

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

it was a cold night and honestly weren't all of them? everyone was already well into their work for the night, working on cases, marking them, and sending them off, the only weird thing was...well...none of those voices Alice had affectionately named had really come up yet, maybe that wasn't too uncommon but there would at least be one going every hour and a half or so...but no...none of them, until Sam finished up one of his cases and started onto the next one was Chester, Sam seemed surprised and paused it before he could finish the first few words

"Hey Alice, Chester's back!" Sam announced with a smile earning a Excited cheer from Alice

"Ayyy! My favorite Spooky robotic voice! guess he couldn't stay away from you to long hey Sam? how does it feel having more game with a weird old text to speech then actual human beings?", Alice asked with a smug look as she leaned back in her rolling chair and Sam rolled his eyes "Ha Ha yes very funny Alice, just thought you'd be happy to hear.", Sam said with a smile as he focused back on his computer and Alice shrugged and looked back to her own work as Sam pressed the space bar again to unpause the voice and listened to the case as it droned on, near the middle though, Chester stopped reading and Sam looked back to the case

"what..?" Sam muttered as he tried to read where Chester had left off but then Chester went off script entirely. "where am I? I should be dead. he killed me. I told him to! it hurts- it hurts to think! we where supposed to be together" and after that the computer appeared to turn off entirely, Sam rolled back a bit , seeming scared and Alice looked up a bit passed the dividers

"you alright ? Case get to you again?" Alice asked as she sat straight a bit only to see Sam stammering

"the-the-the uh- the computers broken I think is all- Chester uhm- wasn't saying the case? like usual?" Sam said as he looked from Alice to the computer before seeing a hand reach out of it and he screamed "holy shit!" Alice yelled, falling out of her rolling chair as Sam got out of his chair in terror, Gwen was out, and of course their boss was in her office at the moment so, Celia was just walking in from the breakroom with a mug of coffee

"hey what's all of the - hhhhaaAA! whaaat the hell is that!?"she yelled in a panic as she dropped her mug, clearly any tiredness she felt before retrieving the coffee had completely left her due to the adrenaline rush of fear as one hand became two hands, reaching out on either sides of the computer and throwing out a man with long salt and pepper hair partially tied up and dressed like some depressed college professor in a winter jacket, he looked like he had been hit by a car but no one around seem to car what he looked like cause he just crawled out of a computer, huffing and puffing like he had been running for his life moments before! The man from the computer looked up at everyone a moment, blinking and wincing as though he was in terrible pain, and with a groan he tried to get up off his hands and knees but as he did this he only fell back down "damn it." the man said and he fell back to the floor, turning himself over to stare at the painful light of the ceiling, Alice, Sam, and Celia all looked between each other not knowing what to do or what was going on "uh- Excuse me ??Who on Earth are you?" Alice finally spoke up only for Jon to look that way and after another moment he sat up and stared "I...I'm the...I'm Jonathan Sims... "he said as though he was asked by a paramedic after a car crash. Celia looked at Alice and Sam and then in her panic, slowly backed up into the break room hoping to be forgotten in the background, Alice stared at Jon and Sam seemed flabbergasted by the name drop "you're...you're Jonathan sims?- You cant be- Jonathan sims is- he's dead!" "you know this guy!?-"Alice said quickly before being interrupted by Sam

"well no! he's!- I was- HE has been dead 20 years! I don't know who this guy is!" Sam said "I do not like being talked about like I'm not here." Jon said as he started to sit himself up and look around, he didn't feel that connection with the eye he had when he was on the ...it was gone...but somehow still there? like before the Eyepocalypse... it was an odd feeling but not as overwhelming he didn't feel like he was as powerful as before.... he felt sick... he wasn't the one reading all those cases, though it was in fact his voice spouting off story after story, so he felt tired, he felt hungry, he felt... sick. "well sorry! Man from computer- if we need to discuss amongst ourselves about a random dead man emerging from the depths of our- definitely cursed old shitty computers!" Alice retorted before watching Jon pass out to the floor as Alice and Sam both stared "shit..." "yeah..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

OKAY this is end of chapter one - and my very first fan fiction EVER so- hope you like it- i will hopefully have the next chapter in soon

[starkskeep]

And I might be okay, but I'm not fine at all (r. stark)

And I might be okay, but I'm not fine at all r. stark imagine

Pt. 3 of Oh, all I used to do was pray, Right when I felt the moment stop

Pairings - Robb Stark x female!Reader

Summary - You have finally healed but the tension in Winterfell looms higher than ever before. A new arrival to the keep threatens any progress Robb has made with you.

Word Count - 1,203 words

Warnings - Angst, mention of infidelity, Robb being a shitty husband but I swear he is trying

A/N - I'm having way too much funny writing angsty Robb Stark so this has now become a multi-chapter imagine. I'm thinking about having two endings: one hea and one where it's just all angst. Let me know if you would enjoy something like that or if you prefer one ending over the other.

Songs I listened to while writing: Cherry Wine (Hozier), Cinnamon Girl, Carmen (Lana Del Rey), Midnight Rain, All Too Well (Taylor Swift)

It had been a month since the attack and you had finally been allowed to resume your normal duties. It had been dreadfully boring being stuck in bed but no one wanted to take any chances with your health. If there was a positive outcome from your encounter with Ramsay, it was that the Stark family had finally opened their hearts to you. Catelyn and Sansa had taken up much of the charity work that you had been doing in prior. They would bring you embroidery projects and sit beside your bed as they updated you on the progress of your work as you all stitched new designs. Sansa showed you quite a few new embroidery tricks. If you were not joined by Catelyn and Sansa, it was Arya and Rickon in your room. The two looked as if you had hung the moon and the stars since you had sacrificed yourself to save them, unknowing if you would survive facing off against Ramsay or not. Arya had decided that she would teach you sword fighting like Brienne had taught her or maybe archery, whichever one you took to best. She did want you to be left defenseless again. It was Arya’s belief that if you were brave enough to protect them, you had to be smart enough to know how to protect yourself. Rickon was less energetic but still just as attentive. He would use your room as an escape from his lessons by bringing you pictures that he had drawn and books so that you could read to him. Once or twice, he even brought you sweets that he had snuck from the kitchens. Even Bran visited you from time to time. He could sympathize with being stuck in bed and how bored one quickly grew from it. Bran had shown you card games that could be played from bed and you were quickly becoming quite the gambler, even though he often bested you.

The issue arose from the eldest of the Stark boys. Robb and Jon were quite sparse in their visits to your bedside, not that you minded Robb’s elusiveness. It still left you with an uneasy feeling whenever he showed you sympathy for what had happened. You were unsure how to accept his kindness after six months of trying yet still being brushed to the side. What concerned you was the rumor you had heard of Robb and Jon fighting over you. Some maids had been whispering when they thought you were asleep about how Jon wanted to keep Robb from visiting you after he had made you cry when you had first woken up. Jon believed that Robb’s presence would be a reminder of the pain you suffered and would therefore only hinder your recovery. He limited his visits so as not to fuel rumors that you and he were engaged in an affair as revenge for Robb’s infidelity. That, of course, was not true. Jon was your first true friend in Winterfell and he cared and looked out for you the way he would Arya or Sansa. Robb, thankfully, did not have to face Jon again for his visits were also few and far between even though he wanted to be by your side. He had duties as the King in the North to attend to as well as a very pregnant Talisa quickly approaching her due date.

You were sitting at your dressing table after having just bathed that evening. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you gently traced the scar on your neck that had been left by Ramsay. The area is still tender and you hiss at the sensation. Another flaw is to be pointed out.

Unbeknownst to you, Robb had entered your chambers and was watching you from where he leaned against the closed door, watching as you carefully trace the scar. He can’t imagine how much pain you are in. How there are scars both physically and emotionally marring you. He frowns at the thought. He walks over to you. Robb wants to ask you if you are okay but he can’t find the right way to do so. He desperately wants to make things better between the two of you.

You shriek in surprise once you look up into your mirror and notice Robb standing close to you. “My lord husband. What are you doing in my chambers? Is there something you needed from me?” You pull your dressing gown tighter against you as if the fabric could protect your heart. 

Robb is startled by your reaction. He doesn’t respond to you for a few moments as he processes your reaction. Why did you scream like that? Are you afraid of him? He can see the vulnerability, the pain, the fear in your eyes and it breaks his heart. Robb reaches out his hand to rub your shoulder in what he hopes you will perceive to be a comforting gesture. “I was worried about you. I know today was your first day returning to your duties. I wanted to make sure that you did not overexert yourself.”

You flinch slightly at the hand on your shoulder and possibly the sentiment behind your husband’s words. Before you can answer him, a servant knocks on the door to your chambers. You call for them to come in. The servant enters and bows to both you and Robb before turning their full attention to him. “Your grace. Talisa Maegyr has given birth successfully. The babe is a girl.”

Robb stares at the servant in disbelief. He knew that Talisa had begun her labours but believed he had more time before the actual birth. His voice grows quiet. “A…a girl?” Robb looked down at his hands, unsure of what to do with himself. He wants to be happy. Robb had loved Talisa once and would make sure she and the babe are cared for but he can’t help but feel resentment towards himself that every moment he tries to make peace with you is ruined by his own actions. 

You shrug off the hand on your shoulder and get up, wanting to put distance between you and Robb. A pained smile is on your face as you speak. “Congratulations on the birth of your daughter. I’m sure you are eager to see her and Talisa. Go.” You turned to walk to the bookshelf of your room. Busying yourself with scanning the titles so that Robb can’t see the tears in your eyes. 

Robb stares at the back of your head. His face is pained as he looks at the ground. A stray tear slides down his cheek. He closes his eyes and sighs. What should be a happy moment for him instead feels like his heart has been broken into a thousand pieces. Robb has come to regret the way he treated you. He should have tried to love you the same way his father had tried to love his mother. It had worked out for them.  Robb felt like a failure.

When he finally opens his eyes after a few deep breaths, he plasters a fake smile on his face and follows the servant to where Talisa and his new daughter are resting.

Next Part

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

Interlude of Jealous Desires

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader x Tormund Giantsbane

Length: 16.8k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, allusions to past rape, smut, outdoor sex, exhibitionism, jealousy and possessive tendencies, oral (f and m receiving), p in v, anal, f/m/m threesome (no m/m interactions), soft dom/sub dynamics

Notes: Tormund will not become a love interest or a consistent participant in Jon and the Readers relationship, his interest is much more casually physical. Takes place during as of yet unpublished chapters, but there are no actual spoilers for any future plot. Can mostly be read as a one shot, but the story does canonically take place in Heart of the Great Wolf.

It was turning into an obsession. What started as a fleeting jealousy, turned into a strange new desire that grew inside him until it burned bright into a need. But he didn't know why at first. Jon had been jealous before. Jealous about many things but he knew a lot were about you. 

He was jealous of how much time in your previous years in Winterfell you would spend working alongside Theon, when Jons duties were further away. He was jealous how he had to spend time with you entirely alone, just to be able to even hold your hand. Jealous that Robb would always be the one to escort you to feasts or events, because it wasn't appropriate that a bastard walked you arm in arm to your seat. 

But this was new. This kind of jealousy was one he never really had before. Part of him felt it a bit, knowing you were thousands of miles away from him married to Robb, but he didn't have to stand there and watch you two so consistently. Didn't have to see the look in his brothers eyes watching you. But he did have to stand there and see that wanting look shine in a different pair of blue eyes. 

Jon knew if he could, Tormund would've taken you for himself. It was obvious early on and it never really went away. He just respected Jon enough not to do anything about it. He would watch, and wink, and flirt and pull you close with an arm around your shoulder, though it never pushed a line that was too far. 

But it made Jon seethe all the same. 

Maybe once upon a time the insecurity would've hit, but the jealousy wasn't about that anymore. Jon was confident in what you two had now. There was an intensity between he and you that was impossible to tame, and he could rest easy knowing you both wanted each other deeply. But he was jealous that being so open with you came easy. That Tormund wouldn't hesitate to joke and smirk and flirt with you, when Jon thought he was bordering on too bold just kissing you in front of other people.

What started as a jealousy of the ease you had with one of his closest friends, turned to a strange taboo of wanting to fuck you out in the open, so whoever just so happened to walk by, could see what he did to you and now it all led here. Fighting against a possessiveness in his head, he wanted this, but he also hated it. 

Part of him felt guilty, he knew how you would react but Jon also was fairly certain he could gently coax you into it. You put a lot of trust in Jons hands during sex and that wasn't about to change now, but he also knew it sometimes was easier to come at you with a plan already in place instead of simple asking. 

He knew what you had been through, and he knew he Would never overstep what he knew were your limits, especially since you yourself didn't necessarily know those limits if asked. 

You technically were more experienced then Jon now. Once at the same level together, you surpassed him in marriage, as he was well aware Robb had experience. Spent enough time around groups of girls Robb used to be involved with and Jon learned quickly his brother clearly had a healthy drive for women. Then Robb married you and Jon only got hints in visions that you knew more of sex then Jon did. 

By the time you returned to him, the only experience Jon had was..well it was forced on him, and that was the end of him wanting to think about that. 

But you didn't go from just marriage to here, no. Things happened in between and now while you still were more experienced then Jon was, it fell into his responsibility to ensure you were safe the whole time. 

It all led here, Jon approaching a certain figure as he was leaned against the landing overlooking the training yard of Winterfell. Knowing what exact details he had been going over again and again in his head to ensure no room for mistakes would be left. But, perhaps it helped, that he trusted Tormund, and maybe that's why he was the only person in existence Jon would ever go to about this.

He could at the least, trust Tormund wouldn't hurt your mind or body. So, after a week of obsessing over it in the dark of night, Jon came to Tormund's side that afternoon. 

Both men looking out to the yard as Jons eyes naturally found yours, trying to navigate what you were doing around a young one vying for your attention. But you so easily let yourself be distracted by the little one. You did so for many of the younger children of the free folk, you had always been good at that. You spent years on and off, helping raise all of Jons younger siblings, and you once had Shireen too. You were easier going and smiled more with children then adults, and Jon loved that. 

So talking about you in such a filthy way as he watched you pick the little one up into your arms with a playful shout, it made Jon feel like a bit shameful. But as he spoke, arms crossed over his front with a low roughness, the second it was out there he couldn't not follow through to the end. 

“You want her.” 

Raising an eyebrow, Tormund slowly formed almost an amused expression as he and Jon kept their eyes both on the same person. “There a question in there, Snow?” 

But Jon didn't look his way, just at you and how bright your rare smile shined, even from up where he stood. “No. The way you look at her, talk about her, I know you want her.” His jaw clenched somewhat, a bit of, not quite jealousy, but something frustrated pooled out. “Lots of men want her. Hard not to, she's beautiful, smart, knows how to take care of herself.” 

“She's also quiet and sweet which is why you're so fucking sappy about her.” Both men smirked with a bit of a chuckle. No denying such a fact there. “And you're so damn territorial, I don't know why you haven't tried throwing me out of this place. Considering if you never came back, maybe I'd be the one fucking her good at night.” 

They had reached the point Tormund could make such a joke and Jon wouldn't take offence, but he didn't laugh, nor smirk. Instead a darker tint fell into his grey eyes as his face sat more like stone as hesitated before almost hissing it out. “What if I let you?” Tormund finally turning to look more at him but Jon didn't face his way yet. “What if I let you fuck her?” 

“Why would you do that?” 

Inhaling deeply, Jon barley could take his eyes from you. As if he had to be watching you to make sure what he was saying always had your best interest in mind. “You wouldn't be alone with her, I'd be there the whole time.” 

He figured the man could live with that, but he knew he was about to have to find the words to back himself up as Tormund smirked, looking back at you. “Little crow wants to watch another man take his woman, is that it?” 

But Jon said no. Short and almost angry as he inhaled and exhaled deeply to will his heart beat down once more. “At first I was only going to make you watch me fuck her. Knew you wanted her, I'd make you sit in the room and watch me take her apart all night, but you wouldn't be happy just watching.” Jons voice lowering even more as if a true secret, “And neither would I.”

Leaning against the wood railing, Tormund appeared far more casual and aloof then what the subject between the men was about. “Would be cruel making a man just watch.”

The agitations sat deep in his chest, but Jon knew it was something he would have to live with in order to follow through with this. He wanted this only slightly more then he hated the idea of sharing you with him, or anyone. “I'd have rules.” Tormund nodded, and Jon leaned forward to rest his forearms against the railing as the other man currently did. “You break any of them, do anything she doesn't like or want, or hurt her in any way-”

Tormund smirked, “Kill me, stab me, toss me in a dungeon. Got it. Your girl, your rules. What about hers?” Nodding to you, currently blissfully unaware as you stood in the yard chatting with Maege Mormont, one hand constantly moving to entertain the child you held, who almost tried turning getting your attention into a game. 

But Jon knew the way you'd look at him, the way you would cling to him when it was all over and even the moments Jon would take you hard and fast in the middle of the day you always held onto him a little tighter just before returning to the world. His heart sunk more into his chest, you put so much trust in him and Jon took every bit of it more seriously then any other. The worst thing in his mind would be to hurt you in any capacity similar to what you suffered through at Ramsay Boltons hands.

“Whatever she wants. But she won't have any.” Tormund glanced to him with a curiosity but it was much clearer that time around that it wasn't just lust bringing Jon to this idea, he was trusting Tormund with something important. “She'll do whatever she thinks you want. Means I need you to listen to what I say, beacuse she won't be confident enough to say no.” 

The two men stood for a little while going back and forth, finally coming to an agreement, and Jon knew there were a few more details to iron out before they parted ways. “You can't cum inside her.” Tormund did nothing but listen, thankfully as Jon lowly muttered out some of his own hard limits. “You can anywhere on her, or down her throat. But nowhere else. I don't care how close you are, you pull out of her, or I'll kick you out then and there.” 

To his credit, Tormund only smirked. In his own mind, he had no problems with Jons rules but it was amusing to him how stern and aggressive he spat them out with while his eyes were somehow soft while watching you from afar. “Anything else?” 

Exhaling deeply, Jon lowered his tone a bit more. “There's something I need you to do. Tonight.” 

You remembered the early days of your time in Winterfell. Late afternoons turned into evenings where you wanted to be away from people in relative quiet and many times you would end up in the small sept with your back against the wall. Legs sat in front of you as you made your way through whatever book found its way into you hands that time. It was always quiet, and you knew the few who visited would come at specific days and times. Meaning you would always be left in a peaceful quiet. 

It felt a tad ironic at the time. Many of your days on Dragonstone were spent finding new and inventive ways to avoid your septa. Septa Moelle in a way fit right in with the company on the island. A wrinkled face that was sharp as an axe, face always twisted in perpetual disapproval with eyes narrowed in stern suspicion and you suspected she hated you as much as you hated her. 

It was easier at first, you spent half of your lessons with her and half with Maester Cressen, and so it didn't leave her much time to sniff out what she disapproved of. Cressen was always far more kind to you, and understood your more difficult moments. 

He hadn't been a fan of Dragonstone as a place to live but he also had lived many years in Storms End previously. He was the Maester there and helped raise the Baratheon brothers, especially after your grandfather and grandmothers passing. Stannis wasn't as charming or wild as Robert and Renly and it left your father as his favourite, making the older mans fondness for you just as natural. 

When you had returned from Winterfell the first time, he was eager to build on what you had learned there and enjoyed that you were able to open up more now. Septa Moelle, was not. She got along with you far less after that. And every time you came back from Winterfell it got worse. 

She would call you difficult, scold you every time she thought you spoke out of turn, say that the Stark boys were teaching you to act like an animal. She was not unlike your mother in such a way during your more difficult years growing up. 

You had been pressed up against a wall listening to your mother speak to your father over their late supper, about Septa Moelle's complaints that you had not shown up for your embroidery lessons again. “She's a stubborn little beast.” 

Your father was quick as he was dismissive, barley looking to his wife and saying, “She's a child.” 

Shaking her head, your mother had her own exasperated tone. “You barley know her. You think because she smiles and listens the days you have her, that makes her sweet. She's sullen, and stubborn, and sinful. We need to stop sending her North.” 

You had felt the urge in your heart to burst into the room and protest, but you also knew you would only get lectured for spying on their conversation. Your father had yet still to change his dismissive tone. “Lord Stark has been a good influence on her education. And it's the only place our daughter has been able to befriend children her age.” 

Selyse shook her head with a dismissive huff of a doubtful tone. “They are a bad influence, nothing more. She shouldn't be spending so much time around boys at this age. It should worry you as well.” Your father asking what specifically should worry him, and you recalled at the time not having a clue what they were talking about. “How old will those boys be soon? Thirteen? Fourteen? Do you really wish for our daughter to spend so much of her young years around these Northern boys verging on men? Septa Moelle already has expressed that it might be prudent to start ensuring her maidenhood is in tact when she returns-”

Your father clearly grew impatient, voice raising. Not to anything close to a yell, but on a man quiet like him, the slight raise was with enough of a tone that it may as well echoed throughout the entire island. “Do you think Eddard Stark is a man raising his sons to violate a young girl, a ward, that we have repeatedly trusted in his care?” Your mother didn't say anything, but you could imagine she was tilting her head with a flatly expressed plead for him to listen to her, which he didn't. “I will not have her septa checking to ensure she is innocent just because you two disapprove of their company. Her attitude is one thing, Selyse. But it is another to say that they've done anything to her. She's more likely to be influenced negatively just being around Allard then she is the Stark boys.” 

That almost made you laugh. Allard was once Stannis's squire, and now was part of your household guard, normally assigned to watch you. He was rash and vocal about deeds you would listen to in as much shock as entertainment. He, each time you sailed North, had been there to accompany you. Telling you of the girlfriends he had in Oldtown, Kings Landing and Bravvos. He would laugh at your shocked expression and jest that were he and his father to have remained smugglers, his father said he'd likely have one day ended up sentenced to the Wall. “Now that's a worse punishment then I could ever imagine, tiny doe.” 

You had asked why and he didn't elaborate. Later when you had brought it up to Maester Cressen, he had laughed himself as he promoted you to continue the lesson he had you writing out. “If you don't know what that means, then I think we can assure Lady Selyse that the Stark boys are nowhere near as a threat as she worries.” He had then told you men of the Nights Watch would take no wives and father no children which is what Allard was referring too, and he almost laughed more at how you almost were more confused. 

“Why would he be thinking about girls like that when at the Wall? He would have more important things to think about.” 

Cressen rose an eyebrow at you, knowing it would pass you by. “If memories of what Robert was like growing up tell me anything, girls would be the only thing that boy would be thinking about.” 

But then you were older, hiding away for quiet in a little sept. Lighting a candle before The Maiden with the thought that if you were going to be here anyways, you may as well be honest about which of the gods would have issue with your actions most. 

It was different now, though. You felt no call to the sept, nor Seven. Especially not in the snows of winter. Now you would some days find yourself in the godswood by the Weirwood. You did not have obligations to the old gods in your words, prayers, or even actions as if always to be guilty. You could stand amongst them, and know they understood you were doing your best. Wondering who could see you here, what they were trying to say as the cold winds blew through your hair. 

Only, the ones which could see you were not quite that of the gods you thought you were speaking too,  and not knowing more then one pair of eyes was watching. 

“Hiding from me are you?” Your head turning quickly to the side only to relax at the sight of Jon approaching. You couldn't help but wonder how he wasn't cold. Not dressed anywhere near as layered or warm as he should, but somehow still managing to look cozier then yourself. Stepping back, your eyes glanced up to the red of the leaves before looking back to the snow and night. 

A small half smirk creeping it's way on to your features. “Actually, I was thinking about what a bad influence you have been on me.” Jons head tilting back in amused question as he repeats you, a smirk forcing itself off your face to remain impassive as you turn to face him. “If I recall I was an innocent girl before you came along and ruined all that.” 

His eyes narrowed a little, arms crossing over his chest. “And how did I do that, exactly? Remind me.” 

Just as he came a little too close, you sensed his ploy, and twisted and ducking under where he moved quick to grab you. Flipping around to face him with your eyebrows raised. “Such a brute, grabbing at innocent girls in the woods at night.” 

Jon only rolled his eyes trying to smother a great smirk, before this time catching your arm as you moved from his grasp. Just as he did once before, Jon took little strength to move you. Tossing your back right into the Weirwood tree behind you. Both of his own gloved hands pressing against the bark beside your head as he leaned himself in enough to look down at you. The glint in his eye almost ready to laugh more then it was lustful. “Maybe you have a point.” 

Your laugh almost caught him off guard, letting a hand slip down to run gently along your waist while the other toyed with your hair at the side of your head. Your own hands innocently finding his own waist as you leaned back a little bit more relaxed. “My father sends his kind, innocent daughter to Winterfell, and what does this strong, Northern boy do? Shove her against a tree because he has no reasonable way of expressing his feelings with words. I was never the same after that.” 

His voice low, more of a muttering husk as he glanced to your lips and up. “No, but you are more fun this way.” Your expression falling flat, and it became Jons turn to laugh. 

Trying not to grin nor melt at how little you felt you got to hear it, and how much his laugh and smile made him impossibly handsome. “No, I get it. The charmless, rigid, bore of a Baratheon girl had to be shown how to open up by brute force.” 

Leaning more into you, Jons breath could be felt dancing across you cheek as he moved towards your neck. “That boring Baratheon girl sure responded eagerly for someone who now says she didn't want to be kissed.” A breathy laughed shared between you as it melted away in you, feeling in place a shiver taking home up your spine as he so gently trailed his lips along your neck to up just below your ear. Pressing a tender kiss there before holding your waist tighter, free hand moving your hair from in his way. 

The exhale leaving you was shaking, Jon once more teasing you with light presses of his lips along your neck again. Both hands smoothing up and down your waist as he did so. For only a moment did your hands find their way up his chest before you tried pulling back. Glancing around with more of a flustered whisper. “Jon, you remember where we are right?” All he did was hum though, never letting his kiss do anything but tease against you right over where he knew your neck was sensitive. “You want to do this in the godswood?”

You felt the smirk, not even needing to see his face. Your hands against your better judgment drifting up and already tangling themselves in his curls. “These aren't your gods with all those rules, darling. The old gods don't care what a man and his girl do with each other out here.” 

Head tilting with a sigh, giving him more room. As his lips were gentle and soft, his facial hair scratched at your neck that he knew was the reason your breathing picked up. Another whisper as you tried to hold onto something sensible, “Anyone could come out here and see us,” 

If you thought that would do the trick, you were entirely wrong. Moving his hands to your hips, Jon all but growled into your neck, “Good.” Before shoving you roughly, your back flat against the tree as he pressed himself tight against you, teeth biting down. Keeping you flat and still as his teeth bared. Biting up and down without even giving you a light brush of his lips or tongue to sooth the pain, just marking your skin until it turned colour for him. 

His hips pushing into yours as much as he could, and you hadn't the mind to realize he was wearing far less and far easier layers to feel his cock pressing hard against you through. Doing so on purpose, knowing how easily you worked him up, could fluster you when he was bold about showing it. 

Your voice caught in your throat, trying to hold back whatever deep sound of need was brewing inside of you but your neck burned with how rough he was treating it. Everyone was going to see it come tomorrow morning you knew, but moving to your jaw, Jon gave the same rough scrape of his teeth before meeting your lips. 

Capturing the sound in his own mouth, Jon kissed you deeply. Every breathe from you now poured into his mouth as you clung tightly with your hands in his hair. The feeling of him running up and down your dress before Jon just started to pull the material. The cold hitting your legs drastically, but the whimper only made Jon grow greedy. Hand it all over to him, his demanding kiss spoke. 

Pulling only far enough from your lips did Jon raise one hand up, biting the end of his glove before roughly pulling it off. You didn't even see where it ended up, Jon using that now free hand to grasp your jaw and tilt your head up to once more capture your lips. His were always so soft but he guided you with such a command that you surrendered to him. 

Letting your lips part open the second his tongue brushed against your bottom lip, and a needy moan gracing him as he slid his tongue in your mouth to brush against yours. His other hand, still gloved rose up to grasp the side of your face, holding you to him as he ground his hardening covered cock into you at how much you gave yourself over with ease. 

Your nails scratched at his scalp, something almost like a grunt vibrated deep in his chest, moving his uncovered hand back down to where he had yanked the skirt of your dress up, trying to will himself to part from your lips but always pushing you back for more the second he pulled away. Hand moving to the back of your neck, Jon barley tore from your lips, rasping deep against them as the slight trails of saliva still connected. Tempting him right back with each mutter. “You remember the first time I touched you?” 

Your head felt light, floating a bit as you nodded. One of your hands returning the gesture and scratching slightly along the back of his neck, voice hardly a whisper. “In the wolfswood..” 

Nodding, Jon bit your bottom lip, a hiss leaving him as he switched from a kiss to his teeth leaving your lip tingling as he slunk his hand over the thin fabric hiding you. “You have no idea what was running through my head, hearing you've never came before, knowing I touched you even before you did.” Another bite as he brushed his tongue against yours, fighting between a kiss and rambling deep against them. “Almost felt guilty, thought about you every night, trying to imagine what you'd feel like around my cock, knowing it wasn't even close. Only to have you tell me you've never touched yourself as if I wasn't going to lose my mind over it.” 

His fingers ran across the material, already feeling it was damp but increased the pressure anyways against you. Another sound deep in his chest as he held your forehead against his as his own breathing picked up. Voice still rambling, and you knew from how deep and almost mumbling it was, he could barley control what he was saying. “Gasping for me the second I did this,” his fingers slid under the fabric and brushed with purpose over your clit. Rubbing tightly against it, but this time unlike years ago as he recalled, Jon new exactly how to dangle you off that sweet edge right into painful and desperate  for him. “You wanna know what it was I really wanted to do? What I was thinking about while touching my beautiful, innocent girl for the first time?” 

You nodded, and Jon said nothing, skipping right to showing you.

Breath catching in your lungs, your back arched pushing your front right into Jon as he crowded you more. Two thick fingers sinking deep inside you, sliding right to the knuckle as you clenched around them already. His jaw clenched, breathing harsh through his nose as he watched your mouth drop open. As if nothing ever prepared you for when any part of him was inside you, you were tight but soaking around them. Sliding rough along a sensitive wall as he pulled them almost all the way out and sliding right back as deep as you could let him. 

The hand on the back of your neck turned you up again so Jon could watch your face, a slow but steady pace as his fingers moved inside of you. Your hands almost dropping instinctively to his shoulders but you knew he wouldn't let you hide there. It was almost humiliating how much Jon loved making you look deep into his eyes when some part of him was inside you. He didn't do it for that, but his insistent intensity over it always was too much for you. 

The coil inside your core spun and twisted as he sparked such burning pleasure inside you, your lips grasping at anything to say only to have something equally as humiliating come out instead, your hands grasping at whatever you could of him as you did so. “I never-” Your face almost twisting as the sting of a third finger joining interrupted you. But Jon ran his hand over the hair at the back of your head now gently, trying to prompt you. 

His voice was too low and sweet for how steadily his fingers fucked up into you. “You never what, darling? Be honest with me, it's alright.” 

You might have regretted saying it later, but you gasped it out in needy moans trying to follow along with it. “I never touched myself when I was with you.” His brows narrowed slightly as your hips almost grinded into his fingers with a strained gasp. “I wanted, gods, I wanted to do everything with you..wanted..wanted to give you everything..if, if I touched myself I'd be keeping all that from you and I didn't want that.” 

Fingers thick and as deep as they could to the knuckle, Jon leaned back to make you look at him with a slight almost shocked expression. “You never had an orgasm that I didn't give you?” When you nodded, Jon swore deep under his breath before roughly capturing your lips with his. 

Both of you knew that wasn't counting your time with Robb. But Jon never gave that any thought, the fact that during his most insecure years you trusted every single aspect of your pleasure only with him made his head spin. Thinking that maybe he really did ruin you, but that only made him desperate to do it even more. His thumb rubbing at your clit in right circles before giving up and letting the heel of his palm just grind roughly against you as his fingers ran along your walls. 

Jon knew he should've slowed down, but then he finally sensed it. Felt that feeling of being watched, and he knew exactly why. That growing urge to show you off, to prove how perfect you were for him with pride. Pushing you closer and closer to an orgasm, he felt you clench around him only to pull out of you the second he realized you were seconds from falling over that edge. 

Lips parting from yours, you watched his eyes so dark they were of black ink as they looked over you blown wide open. Your voice was small as the sting from losing it so close had you feel strained. “Jon, please..”

Shaking his head, Jon moved both hands under the skirt of your dress. Grasping the edges of your underwear he pulled them down. Kneeling slightly to pull them off one foot at a time. Looking up at your heaving chest, his fist tight around the material before he shoved them away on his person without a single intention of giving them back as he stood up.

Your hands moved, trying to undo things to pull him out but Jons hands were faster, and rougher then yours. Looking up to your eyes, he didn't even blink as he did so. Your hands laid useless on his waist, digging into the leather as your heart raced and screamed at you. Running them up to cup both of his cheeks, Jon finally moved, all but kicking your legs apart as he ran the tip of his cock along your soaked core. 

Still one hand on himself, Jon used the other to yank up your leg to rest at his hip. His palm sliding down  to force the material of your dress to pool against you, exposing your actions to that side of the world. Pushing his tip into your clit you whined just as he sealed his eyes shut with a hiss. Holding a groan he swallowed it down to his chest before ensuring you were looking at him. 

Letting it slid back down he just barley sat at your entrance, one tiny slip and he could inch inside of you but his eyes were too soft for that yet. “Tell me you still belong to me,” Your brows narrowed in confusion, but Jons head tilted slightly almost pleading you to be honest. “I belong to you, but tell me you'll always belong to me, no matter what,”

You felt confused but nodded, “I belong to you Jon, I always will belong to you, I love you.” 

Jons face twisted, almost as if conflicted with something before deciding on a path. Sliding his cock slowly but deeply inside of you. The burn from the stretch of his cock was more then his fingers and you shook in his very touch. Sliding just as deep you gasped as you leaned this time into him and he let you for a moment. 

Only a few times did Jon steadily slide almost out of you before coming right back. Your core right back to twisting only this time it was harsh and breath stealing. Hands grasping his shoulders and part of his neck you looked up at him, his mouth parted in need before he grabbed your other leg, not letting himself leave your warmth, Jon picked you up properly. 

Shoving you back into the bark of the Weirwood did Jon barley let himself leave before thrusting hard back inside of you. His cock dragging along that same sensitive wall but now with a roughness that were there nothing in his way, would have loudly slapped and echoed in the empty, cold night. You clenched around him tightly, your heart pounding in your chest as you begged his name. 

Almost having to gasp for air, Jon captured your lips again. His cock not pounding very fast, but hard and rough. Rough enough you felt yourself cry out at particularly painful ones that Jon didn't even realize bordered on too much, but you knew you were utterly soaking his cock each time wanting exactly that pain. Since connecting your lips, Jon didn't let you leave. Leaning into you the second it felt as if you were to pull away for air. 

Fucking up into you again and again, Jon growled in his chest, almost snarling into your mouth the harder he pounded. Chasing something deep inside of you, as you clung and arched into him with nothing to support you behind the clawing inside your core to snap. A burning despite the snow and cold air around, nothing leaving you that wasn't whines in his kiss. 

You both knew it wasn't going to last. But, what you didn't know, was that Jon had other ideas for you that would more then make up for it. Pushing tightly against you, Jon sunk his cock deep as he thrusted only to slide his tongue back into your mouth just as he did so. One hand on your thigh now free to hold the back of your neck, keeping your lips fused to his. 

So close, you soaked around his cock only for Jon to groan your name against your lips. His cock so deep and so rough this time around that as your hands tangled themselves up in his hair, you were begging his name something you weren't even sure you understood. A cry that had to trust whatever he gave you, and all Jon gave you was nothing that was yours.

Pushing you more into the tree, Jon tried to push your free leg more so it widened you to him. His hips pounding rough into yours and only increased in how much it both felt good and was a painful feeling that only Jon could make you desire again and again. 

Muttering against your lips, “Don't come, don't you dare come, darling. I'll make you feel better, I promise. But right now, you need to trust me and not come.” Your head hid in his shoulder, nodding obediently as it almost made you tear up how much effort it took to hold back.

Your name groaned from his lips freely, just as you felt his cock deep inside you throbbing before as deep as he could go, finally came. His cum always was quite warm, but compared to the cold around your skin it felt almost hot in comparison. A deliciously thick never ending sea of his seed pouring deep inside of you as Jon moved you to look you in the eyes. 

A thought coming to his head almost came out of his mouth, but it wasn't the time. Not when he was being watched, not even for what this was this time. Holding it back as Jon once more bit and greedily guided your lips as he came and came deep inside. Nothing would leak out with how much was going deep in you, your whine against his lips as he shook. 

It felt like minutes passed before Jons seed had finished spilling inside of you. Panting heavily against your lips did Jon pull back to look you over, your voice needy as you leaned your forehead against his own. His hands a little less tight but you felt the bruises no doubt already there. A whisper only he could hear. “I love you so much,” 

Lust mixing with the raw feeling of your genuine innocence, Jon hadn't left your warmth yet but wrapped his arms around you. Coming up to pull your head into his neck as he did your hair, smoothing over and over again along it. His voice rasping in your ear, “And I love you, so much, so so much.” 

It took him a good few minutes to convince himself to pull out of you. Forcing himself to remember that he didn't let you cum for a reason, when he could stand there and want to let his cock pound fast until you soaked him so much there was no hiding it. But as you gently helped put his clothes back into place, Jon held both of your cheeks and let another kiss go to your lips and then forehead. 

Your hands around his waist keeping him close to you. “Why am I not allowed to cum?” 

But his answer, almost would've made you laugh were you not so overwhelmed with how much of Jons cum spilled inside, how much of it was there. How you could feel how warm and thick it was, and how he was so deep, it barley left any trace on your upper thighs as he left your core bare under your clothes. Jons answer though, was rasping and low no room for questioning despite his gentle touch. “Beacuse your King said so.” 

You let a breathy laugh escape, and as Jon started to chuckle as well, he nudged your nose with his before a gentle kiss was back on your lips. Eventually, Jon would convince himself to guide you back into the castle. But for now, as you nuzzled into his neck, Jon looked back to the watching eyes he could not see. 

Jon would take you once more in his room, spreading you bare across the fur to taste you before the fire, still refusing every orgasm for you, and yet he still wasn't satisfied. And he wouldn't be until this happened, and despite all the rules, all of the back and forth and the possessive nature inside him? Jon couldn't stop thinking about what he had planned for you the very next night. 

He knew Tormund had watched, and now Jon would ensure the only other person he'd trust with you, got their fill of you. In a very literal sense of such a word at that. 

You had been trying to figure out what had him on edge all day. Nothing seemed to stand out, and no one else acted as if anything was wrong or out of place, yet Jon spent most of the day a bit on the short side with people. Taking more time then normal to hover over you to the point you had spoken without looking, when your eyes had been on the papers in front of you for too long. “Can I help you with something, your grace?” 

Only then did you glance up, something sat on the edge of Jon's tongue but he just shook his head. A hand pulling you somewhat close to press a kiss to your forehead as he passed you by and left. Almost huffing out a laugh, you had returned to the task in front of you and thought little more of it for the time being. Theon had given him a glance as he left, turning to you somewhat amused, “What's wrong with him?”

You had returned to looking over your task at hand, but that time you did smirk with a chuckle. “Rest assured, there is always something wrong going on inside Jon Snow's head. Best not worry too much about it, or you'll drive yourself up the wall.” Tossing him the stack in front of you suddenly you nodded to them. “Now help me sort through all of this before it drives me up the wall, myself.” 

When you had come upon him yourself, it was growing late into the day as the sun had long since set far enough the sky was mostly dim save for the horizon. Almost amused how the tides had turned, him sat in his study with his elbow propped on the table so he could rest his forehead in his hand. You could see a deep, twisting in his expression even from where you stood behind him. Maybe you'd have surprised him were Ghost not to perk up with bright eyes the moment you gently slunk into the room. 

Turning to see what caught the direwolf's attention, Jon had a much softer smile fall over his face then he had any right directing towards you. Reaching one hand out, you returned the gesture. Letting Jon guide you to rest on his lap, you sitting to the side now with your hands gently along his chest and collarbones, his keeping you steady by your waist. “You've been in a strange mood all day.” 

Jon hummed low in his throat, grey eyes soft as he let them trail what appeared to be in an innocent manner along what he could see of you. “Have I?” 

A small nod of your head, you leaned forward with a hand cupping his cheek. Meeting him half way to gently press your lips to his only for a moment, before muttering against them. “I know you have a lot on your shoulders, I just want to know what I can do to help.” You knew Jon had been keeping some of the more difficult parts of ruling from you, trying to give you easier things to focus on, or tasks that he knew you would enjoy rather then feel frustrated with. But now it meant you were watching his shoulders tense, and his mood struggle. 

Running his hand up to rake through your hair, he barley shook his head. “You are helping. You take care of the little things so I have the time to deal with the difficult ones.” 

A smile forming on his face as you sighed flatly. “We can share both of those burdens equally, you know.  Otherwise, I'm just going to assume that you like being somewhat miserable all the time.” Your face twisted, trying to keep a playful smile from it as Jon let his other hand at your waist pinch you. Giving hardly anything of a small shove to his chest before he left your hair to trap your hand against him. 

His eyes too easy to melt into as was his voice rasping and alluring. “And you worry too much about everything. I prefer you like this, relaxed at the end of the night instead of worked up.” Your shoulders dropped a bit as you let your other hand toy with the curls loose and long. Finding his eyes, yours were narrowed only slightly as they shined with a small ask to listen, but he didn't. “You've done enough, I want you to let other people do things for you sometimes.” 

Sighing out, you shook your head with a tired disapproval that you both knew wasn't serious. “And what about you?” His head tilted somewhat to the side, and yet the tenderness in his eyes grew as the frown growing on yours was much more genuine as you looked at him. “Doesn't feel right, letting you do all the heavy lifting. If those people out there are going to insist on still calling me Queen, then I need to be doing more then just stand beside you. I need to help you. I want to help you, Jon.” 

Jon watched you carefully, his face soft but fallen a bit into something harsher as he looked over the seriousness in which you spoke. “You fought and died for these people. That's enough. Spent your whole life doing things for other people, but I don't want that. I'm happy doing all this, long as I know your relaxed.” 

It was barley a smirk or even a lightness but you were close enough Jon caught both. “Not doing a very good job then, are you?” Rolling his eyes, Jon sighed and grabbed your hips to lift you up off of him, onto your own two feet. 

Pulling you into his side with an arm around your waist, Jon guided you out into the halls of the evening castle. “You're difficult, I'll give you that.” Your face twisting as you commented that you weren't sure if he was insulting you or not, the look on Jons face only added to the playful offence. “I'd never insult you. Only tease you.” 

Muttering under your breath with a shake of your head, “Relentless teasing, you mean.” 

Just as Jon had reached the outside of his chambers, he suddenly turned to you. Moving you by the hips against his closed door with a small thud, crowding you with a playful raise on an eyebrow to accompany the bemused smirk. “We both know this is nothing compared to what I could be doing to you. And maybe,” One hand moved to tilt your chin up gently to meet his eyes as he leaned in. “I have far better ways of making you nice and relaxed for me then I've led on.” 

Your hands trailed along his chest resting down more across the leathers on his stomach. “And what does that include precisely, Snow? Going to take a miracle to accomplish that with me of all people.” 

Reaching behind you, Jon opened the door before wrapping an arm behind your back to keep you steady. Yourself not realizing, he also did it, so you would not be able to turn around and see what his plan was before he could properly guide you into it. Slowly stepping inside, Jon only leaned his arm back to slam the door shut with a loud bang. Not wasting time after to run his hands along your shoulders before slipping your cloak off, tossing it off to the side of nowhere. 

Your hands now keeping steady on his waist as he looked down at you with a darkness creeping up and fast that matched the deep rasp of his voice as he held you tight to him by your hips. “Won't take a miracle, just doubling the amount of work it already takes to make you beg for me.” 

Lungs hitching the air flowing through you as Jon eyed you up and down, his grip feeling more like need then it did entirely intentional. But Jon wanted you just the right amount of worked up before he let this night happen. The other pair of eyes was willing at the very least for Jon to do so first. 

Not given much of a chance to respond, Jon trailed his hands up to the middle of your dress, hands hovering right at the small string of clasps that kept it together. Normally he would wait for you to nod before undoing them, but this time Jon only stood silent with his eyes never leaving yours as he unclasped them. Leaving your front open as only the thin, dark shift underneath would remain were he to shove the rest of it all on the ground. 

For now though, he seemed to have left it. Looking down at you, one hand now running along your neck gently, down the middle of your throat as he exhaled deeply through his nose at how you almost nervously swallowed at the sensation. “There's something you should know,” Your eyes flashing in an innocent concern, making Jon feel all the more like a lecher. “Last night, you were worried someone might see us out in the godswood?” 

You nodded, but the tensing in his arms was soothed as Jon traced a hand along your still covered breast while the other tilted your chin to look at him. His fingers tracing around the small bud before he could feel your nipple through the fabric. Not slipping his hand in to touch you, but never quite letting his thumb leave it as he watched your breathing pick up again, your eyes fluttering as you tried to focus. 

“Did someone..” Jon only nodded, stepping a big closer turning your head up better to look at him as he did so, running his other thumb in tandem over what he could reach of your throat. “Who?” You felt the nerves in your blood rising as it conflicted with the sparks of pleasure lighting a fire between your veins. 

For a split second, Jon glanced behind you with a sharper narrowed look and just as you thought you saw him nod he grasped your breast more roughly and pulling a light gasp from you. But one that was far surpassed by the feeling which followed. The loose fabric of the remainder of your dress was pulled from your body and tossed behind you as a low voice rumbled close to your ear. “Fucking cruel not letting a woman cum twice in a row.” 

Jon clearly expected the reaction, as soon as your heart raced in your chest you gasped loudly, turning around only to have Jon pull your back tight against his chest, one hand on your hip the other draped across your stomach to keep you against him as your hands grasped his forearm almost in defence. 

Many blue eyes haunted you now. Deep bright ones which were nothing but memories of sorrow, pale ones that some days you still felt as if right in front of you, and shining unnatural glowing ones like crystal that were coming for you all. But these ones, never were in the realm of intimidating until right now. 

Tormund was said to have the name of Giantsbane and whatever came about to give him that, could've easily come from his stature alone. He was as tall as he was broad and the aura which followed him was that of a man larger then life, but never before did you feel so small in comparison. His eyes ran down you as freely as they ever had, and he spared no care in hiding it in front of Jon. 

His chuckle was deep in tone as he nodded up to Jon behind you, “That why you're always so on edge, pretty crow? Whats the longest he's not let you cum?” 

The fact that Jon hadn't said a word made you feel even more nervous, but as your mouth stammered for any answer and finding none, Jon squeezed your hip. His voice was low, quite low and felt much more rough and controlled then before. “You can tell him.” 

Breathing it out as if one word, it only made Tormund smirk a he stepped closer. “A week..” 

Glancing behind you, he raised an eyebrow with a deep, knowing accusation. “You keep her like this for a week, Snow? Don't know how she hasn't come running to me already, woman like her should be getting more then she can handle.” 

The arm across your stomach pulled you a tad closer, the feeling of Jons hardening, covered cock suddenly pressing into your ass with no shame as Jon grasped the edge of you dark shift, raising it up just slightly too indecent in other company, so Tormunds greedy eyes could look all he wanted. His voice though, wasn't directed at you. “You saw her last night, the way she clung to me when I filled her, imagine how good that feels when she cums around you after a week of denying her.” 

It was the way they spoke to the other about you, Jons hands so greedily all over you and Tormunds eyes seeking the rest, but then they stood there speaking about you as if you weren't even there that made you feel dizzy, but in that moment of quiet did Jon lean his mouth to your ear. “Do you want him too?” 

Something inside you was a mixture of difficult to ascertain feelings. Part of you felt utterly humiliated, nothing was even showing but in just a shift you felt completely exposed in front of Tormund, but you also felt nervous and intimidated the ease in which he was standing in the room getting whatever eyeful he was enjoying. But then again, that rushing of blood between your legs hadn't left even though you thought it should have. 

You didn't answer though, eyes wide and mouth agape as your chest clearly heaved along your heavy breaths, and Jon pulled you back to press your ass into his cock more. “It's alright, we're not trying to force you into anything. Just want you to be honest.” Your voice breathlessly asked about what, and Jon kept you in place as Tormund now stood close enough you could feel his own degree of warmth as he stood tall over you. “Do you remember what I told you about him? That thing you thought I was lying about?” 

Mouth moving to answer, Tormunds large hand tilted you to look up at him. His light blue eyes deep and so blatantly wanting as he rumbled low, “Speak up now.” 

Swallowing nervously, you felt still confused, not quite sure what was going on even though both men were so obviously on the same page. “He, he said if you had the chance..you'd-” Jon squeezed your hip and Tormund leaned down just the slightest as his touch had let to leave. “That you'd take the opportunity to be inside me if you could.” That certainly was a bit more formally stated then what came rambling out of Jons mouth that night, but it was the broad strokes at the least. “But he wasn't..it was only a..”

Knowing you were trying to grasp at your words to claim it to be a joke or an exaggeration, Jon stood firm behind you, letting Tormund run his hand along your jaw and neck with an almost smug shine in his eyes. “Your crow's telling the truth, been wondering how good you'd feel around my cock a long time. Would've taken you for myself all the way back in Castle Black, if he didn't come back first.” 

Just as Tormund moved to reach for the thin straps of your shift, did Jon from behind you glare something mighty, making the man stop mid movement. Almost challenging the other to keep going before Jon rasped out, “She hasn't said yes.” 

Tilting his head down to look over you, Tormund had a knowing in his eyes that you felt as if could see right through the little covering you had left and could see how conflicted the wetness forming between your legs left you, and he knew it wasn't Jons touch alone doing it. “I know want when I see it, Snow.”

But Jon this time, didn't do it to tease. Instead his hands moved to your waist and tugged you back almost half a foot as Jon did. His voice bordering on something dark. “I don't care what you think you see, she says yes or it all stops here.” 

As you quietly muttered, “Jon?” His head turned to look at you more over your shoulder as he realized with a bit of guilt, that you weren't grasping what was going on as well as he thought you would. He could tell you felt embarrassed and turned on to a degree but his heart fell heavy as Jon looked at your innocent confusion meeting the others eyes. “I don't..I don't understand..you want him to...” 

Sighing deeply to himself, on glanced up at Tormund a silent ask to give him a moment. Turning you in his arms to face him, he held you one hand on your upper arm, as it reached up to rest against his stomach, his other cupping your cheek as he spoke much more tender then before. “I just want you to feel good, darling. And I really think letting me and Tormund be with you tonight will feel good, he wants you, and tonight I want you to want him.” 

There were the nerves Jon suspected, flickering eyes to nothing before landing on his chest as you tried to not fumble through your words. “But I love-” 

Running his thumb along the skin of your cheek, Jon leaned down so your eyes met at the same level. “I love you, and you love me, I know you do. But it's okay to want things you don't expect. You're not doing anything wrong by wanting this. I'll be here this whole time, I'm not leaving you alone. I'm here to make you feel good just as much as he is.” 

Your head dropped in thought, Jon gently turning you again to face Tormund who at least looked a little less intimidating as he stepped close to you. He was warned you would be incredibly nervous before you said yes to it, but instead of being off putting as he thought, Tormund found himself rather enjoying seeing you so out of your element, between the two men. “Snow's trusting me with you, and that don't come easy, pretty crow. He's fucking possessive, but he trusts that I'll treat you right. You just have to let me.” 

Looking up at Tormund, you felt his large hand trailing up your thigh and hip and back. Toying with the edge of your shift as you glanced back to Jon. “Are you sure-” Letting a hand grasp at your jaw, Jon leaned over your shoulder as he tilted your head enough to capture your lips with his. 

Cupping the side of your cheek firmly, Jon coaxed you to follow his lips until you relaxed in his touch, him pressing one more kiss before nudging your nose with his. “I was the one who asked him for this. I wanted him to be here, Tormunds the only one I trust to touch you, even just for tonight. But you have to say yes, or it ends here. Either he stays, or he leaves, and I'll take care of you myself.” 

Turning you then to look up at the much more wild man, Tormund was allowed the space finally to grasp at your hip. Leaving only Jons other hand at your waist on the other side, being what kept him to you. “Believe me, pretty crow. I have plenty of ways to take care of you.” 

It was maybe out of nerves, but you knew him leaving this room now felt like the wrong option, so you nodded. Jon mumbling in your ear that he needs you to say it out loud, so you looked more confidently up to Tormund. “Okay, I want this..I..” Turning to partially see Jon in the side of your vision, “What am I allowed or not allowed to do?” 

Jons chuckle was dark, and so was Tormunds as both men now moved to keep you in the middle of them. Jon tilted your head by your jaw back to face the taller one with a whisper in your ear. “Do whatever feels right, he knows what he's not allowed to do.” A hesitant expression still looking up at the taller man, Jon finally gave you an easy prompt. “How about you start with a kiss. Show Tormund how sweet tasting your lips are. I'll be right here.” 

But right here, meant in the room. As Jon gave you a tiny push, you realize he had you leave his touch entirely, only to be grabbed by the hips by Tormund and pulled into his front. Initially your hands found their way on the wrists grabbing you, but slowly you looked up to his face. Willing yourself to calm down enough, and that maybe if you just followed Jons first instruction it would get easier. 

Which was exactly what Jon wanted. He knew part of him would hate this, and already he did, but another part of him desperately wanted you to enjoy Tormund tonight, needed you to feel good when both of them were touching you. Sharing you made him feel angry and possessive, but there was little that didn't make Jon feel that way towards you anymore. This was a step. He needed to work through this angry possessiveness before it frightened you away. 

Slowly, you let your hands drift up to Tormunds chest. The moment you even slightly leaned up, Tormund happily took the reins from you. One hand moving up to your jaw as he pulled you up as he met your lips halfway. 

Your nerves running ragged, his kiss was rough and aggressive. Keeping you dangling off an edge of out of control but never letting you fall. Kissing Tormund was entirely different from the only other three people who ever had to you. Something wild and overpowering as he kept you by your jaw and neck right up against him, distracting long enough to run his hands along your shoulders and shove the thin straps of your shift partially down your arms. 

Pulling away, Tormunds own breathing picked up as did the darker glint in his eye as he nodded to your hands on him. Pulling them away for a moment, Tormund let them free the fabric as he yanked the rest of the material off of you. Left in no clothes did he very freely stand back to look much easier all over you with something that you couldn't decide made you excited or nervous. 

It was a strange feeling actually, realizing that none of what was under mattered to him. Tormund knew about the scar, and the rest of the marks along you, most from Ramsay didn't even phase him as he pulled you right back to him. One hand rough as it grasped at one of your ass cheeks, digging his finger tips into it as he kissed you, only to move with the same ferocity down your neck to match the bruises and teeth marks Jon left the night before on the other side. 

Grasping at his shoulders, you unknowingly arched into the touch, a stuttering gasp leaving you as he pulled you closer, your hips to his with the hand still grasping your ass. The foreign feeling of who was doing it, the scratching of his beard and overbearing size you felt as if you'd be powerless against him. 

From where you were kept, you couldn't see where Jon was or even hear and it made your heart race nervously. You weren't sure what fear made you more uncomfortable. If he really had just left you with Tormund all alone, or if just didn't want to touch you while someone else was. You didn't want that to be the night.

It was like he could sense you though, realizing in an instant Jon had yanked you from Tormunds greedy hold. A soothing feeling as you felt his chest bare as you were. Turning you in his arms, he grasped both of your cheeks as he muttered angrily, “I'm not leaving you,” His lips biting and harsh as he kissed you, the much more familiar sensation easing the tension in your chest as he coaxed you to let him control the kiss. Hardly pulling from you as he mumbled, “We're both going to be inside you, don't you worry,” 

You were trying to interject, wanting to ask what he meant but Jon did not allow you the air. Your hands wrapped around the back of his neck into his curls while one of his own wrapped around your waist and back, pulling you into him. His lips stealing your breathe and leaving you lightheaded as he didn't stop. 

Trailing down the side of you neck he left marks on the night before, you gasped and jumped as he followed the exact same trajectory that left your neck so marked in the first place. The sting and burn mixing deeply with how much you arched into his touch. Nails scratching along his scalp and running the other down his chest. For once, his scars felt comforting. They were something you knew. 

Moving up to your ear, his voice was a strained husk, “Let him touch you, darling. He's always wanted to.” Moving so you turned around to where the bed was, that time you almost didn't contain the whine before it left your mouth. Pressing a kiss just below your ear, Jon ran his hands up and down your waist. 

“Maybe she's just impressed for once, Snow.” 

Jons hands tightened in something you sensed was much more possessive then he wanted to lead on, but he nudged you over to the now much more bare Tormund. By bare, you meant completely. Tall and large, giant was the right word for it and you felt yourself purposely trying not to stare but it only made the man laugh. 

Tormund closed the gap, grasping you by the front of your neck and pulling you up for another kiss as he in what felt like what would be much of the night, yanking you from Jon. “If you say sorry for staring, that's going to hurt a mans ego.” This time Tormund felt much more ready to continue, turning you to the bed and effortlessly picking you up by the hips to prompt you onto it. Half chucking you into the middle as he climbed over top you, eyes looking between your legs as they parted naturally. 

Without sparing any time, Tormund kneeled between your legs and spread them wider without a seconds thought before leaning a bit more over you as his hand cupped all of you. Shaking his head as he glanced to the side, “Wonder who all this is for more, your little crow?” Shifting his touch so that Tormund could sink a finger knuckle deep into your cunt, a gasp clawing from your mouth as your head leaned back against the soft fur, already clenching around at the suddenness of him. “Or the one actually touching you?” 

Voice failing you, one of your hands grasped at the fur beside you, as Tormund started steadily moving inside you before letting a second slip beside the first and sinking deep once more. Your other hand reached up as if needing something to hold onto more, only to have your lungs work again as a familiar hand grasped it. Interlocking your fingers with his, Jon had sat down on the bed now leaning across so he could keep a hand on you. 

His other tilting your head to the side where his lips hovered over yours as you stuttered out quiet sounds of need as the twisting inside you spun. “This is about her, Tormund. Not your pride.” Uncaring as to what his response was to be, Jon pressed his lips to yours. Keeping the hand on your jaw so you couldn't get pulled from his lips. A bite to your bottom lip, you instantly parted letting Jon slide his tongue into your mouth to brush against your own. 

Your whines into his mouth only made him kiss you harsher, but your insides twisted as Tormunds other hand grasped at your breast, twisting your nipple until you gasped out a cry into Jons mouth. Your free hand raising up to hopelessly grasp at Tormunds wrist but he twisted the small bud just as he picked up how fast his fingers slid inside of you. 

Ever so slowly, Jon left your lips not without returning for multiple smaller kisses before he helped you up, sitting more upright on the bed, Jon, just as bare, knelt behind you, one hand at your waist while the other grasped at the breast Tormund didn't occupy. Both men working in tandem to grope greedily at your chest. 

Working together now, Tormund moved from your breast to more pull your hips up so his fingers could sink deeper at more of an angle. The coil twisted and suddenly it twisted too fast as a hand belonging to Jon that wasn't at your breast, moved to rub rough and tight circles at your clit. 

One hand holding onto Tormunds forearm as the other reached behind you and threaded through Jons curls as he buried his head leaving presses of his lips along your neck. Both men fast and rough, their hands large and calloused but they sent you hurling towards the end of a desire that had you clench around Tormunds fingers. One more sliding to make three and you whined out with a breathy cry to follow. Your thighs tensed as they spread wide for him, and Jons touch to your clit rubbed at the same pace Tormunds fingers slid in and out of you. 

Propped up with a hand still at your waist, you were forced to sit upright as your head fell back as the coil snapped. Tormunds fingers now sounding much more soaked each time he slid them inside of you that you felt a flush work up your chest to your cheeks. Leaning forward as your orgasm gave you aftershocks as he refused to pull them out. Only slowing his thrusts instead, this time you leaned up to meet his lips as he picked the pace up again. 

Knelt behind you still, Jon seemed to shift as you felt his cock, hard as he could be pressed right into your ass and grinding as he rubbed your clit still. Not having the ability to trail down to your wetness as he liked, you started to almost try and flinch from his touch as it felt like a stinging rawness and yet you pulled from Tormunds lips, to let your head fall onto Jons shoulder at the pain that had you begging for more. 

You didn't even know if words existed for you anymore, your core so stinging and yet the sounds between your legs were so humiliatingly wet. Trapped on the bed between two large, warm bodies before between them they plunged you right into a second orgasm that had you writhing into their touch between your legs desperately. 

Slowly, Tormund begun to pull his fingers out of you enjoying your wide eyes as he moved them into his mouth to taste what you left on him. A nervous swallow heavy in your throat as you reached back more to Jon. His own hands now both moving to your chest, grasping tightly at them and pulling at the small buds just rough enough to have you gasp for him. His rasp low in your ear, “You going to let me taste you?” 

Not anything leading, just a gentle prompt that had you inhale deeply. Your eyes fluttering shut only as you did so, before nodding. Jon gesturing for Tormund, the larger man then grabbed you, moving you right to the edge of the bed, your legs hanging off the sides as you kept a noise inside your chest at your heart racing. 

Kneeling on the ground, Jon without any time wasted, gently draped your legs over his shoulders, as his hands on your hips tugged you to lay in the perfect place for him. Easy gentle presses of his lips along the inside of your thighs. Before he reached your soaked core, he moved back to the other thigh. 

Inching close to your heat, Jon once more moved your hips in his touch to just slightly raise up off the fur as he ran his tongue flat against you, running from your soaked entrance to your clit. Stopping to make small motions along it before sucking it into his mouth that had you arch against the bed with a moan, and Jon only repeated himself. Keeping you on edge as he never stayed for the same amount of time on either, always switching between his lips and tongue each time he heard your stuttering cries grow more consistent, he'd change it up. 

All you could see if you sat up slightly, was Jons dark curls between your legs and you would drop back to the bed with a high pitched sigh, sweat covering your body and dampening your hair. 

Tormund tilted your face to look up at him as he pressed his lips to your, now so eager. Covering your breathless sounds and muffled them in his own kiss, Jons hands on your hips grew tighter, the harder it became for him to hear your cries. Tongue slipping into your mouth, Tormund let one hand drift down to rest gently at your neck. No pressure put down but you felt it as his kiss grew deeper. 

Licking down to your entrance, Jon himself groaned between you at how wet you were, licking all he could reach with such fervour that he wished he could lay spread on the bed to at least let his cock grind into the fur, instead his cock sat leaking and painful at how deep his tongue had to run along inside you. Only making you even more wet as your hips arched to his touch and Jon would yank you closer to his mouth with a grunt. 

Your insides twisted, as your cries kept muffled, your hands reaching up to grasp at Tormunds shoulders as he half hovered over your top. Moving though to once more make a striking series of marks along now his side of your neck, rumbling low. “Those fuckers out there have no idea what they're missing, taste like heaven. Look at Snow, turned him into a starving fucking wolf between your legs, bet if he could chose where he dies again it'd be right where he is now.” 

Jons eyes almost black glared up at him without ever letting his mouth stop drinking from your cunt, a growl leaving him as he reached up to grasp at your breast. His eyes slipping back closed as he lost himself with how much you were soaking his mouth, how much of you was coating his tongue, and how little he ever wanted to do anything else. 

You grasped the hand on your chest, Jon not hesitating to let you interlock your fingers as you cried his name. Tormund wouldn't have been able to hear the deep growls into your cunt as Jons tongue licked deep inside you, only vibrating against you and making both his grip in your hand and on your hip tight. 

In only seconds did you have to realize your orgasm was about to wash over you, begging Jons name only to have Tormund put the slightest bit of pressure on your throat to grab your attention and bite into your lips with a kiss. Which only spurred Jon to move, yanking your hips up off the bed so he could more hold you and hear your voice instead, letting him lean down into you deeper then before. Forcing Tormund to have to follow and capture your lips in a demanding contest between them.

Your body burned as it flooded through you, something tight snapping that was white hot and too bright to even comprehend as you came, Jon drinking every bit you gifted to him with an eagerness that would've had you whine were Tormund not there to distract you and keep you tethered to the earth with his lips. 

Slowly, Jon ease up, tongue making smaller and less wide licks before pressing a kiss to your clit that had you almost jump. His own mouth soaked, Jon rested his forehead against your mound for a second as his breathing heaved almost painfully in his chest. Barley controlling himself, Jon suddenly moved back to kiss and suck at your clit, now just spreading your legs as wide as he could manage before moving his hands under to grip the cheeks of your ass tight, one in each hand. 

Part of you wondered if he almost forgot Tormund was even there, swearing low under his breath as he send you into falling tears as you snapped, another orgasm almost growing painful as was his greed attached to your lips, your cries in the open air the only thing having Jon finally come up for air. 

But using his strength to push you further up onto the bed before flipping you over. Your stomach against the furs as Jon knelt behind you, prompting you to sit up on your hands and knees, “Come on, up for me, there we go.” 

His hands grasped greedily at your ass, groping before pulling them wide in a stinging feeling. His own jaw set clenched tight as he looked at you. Tormund suddenly watching the utter dark greed in Jons eyes as they met the others gaze, Jons voice rasping low. “Here's what we're going to do, you're going to get her ready while I fuck her, then when I take her? Her cunt is yours.”  

Tormund nodded as you looked up at him and he smirked down at you, running a hand along your jaw with almost a condescending tone. “Your crow wants to fuck you a way no proper southern girl like you should want.”

Your chest lurched as Jons hands groped the skin there before a thumb trailing just over your ass, almost collapsing you into the bed at the feeling. “Jon?” 

But he didn't answer, not you. “You have it?” Whatever they spoke about, you watched Tormund nod as Jon continued. “Good, turn her around.”

As they both handled you like a rag doll, Jon pulled you up into his lap to straddle. His cock sat heavy and red between you, but he cupped your cheeks with his mouth slightly agape. “Look at you, haven't even been inside you and you're already a mess.” All you did was nod, wanting nothing more then for him to do whatever he wanted, both of them and Jon leaned in to kiss you again. 

Your arms wrapped around him, finding his hair to cling to as Jon wrapped his own arms around your waist and back pulling you to him. His kiss was purposely messy, tongue licking into your mouth to make you taste yourself from him, and rough bites of his teeth to your bottom lip that he hoped was going to leave a mark. Not once did he let you part from it, and as soon as he knew you felt it, one hand cupped the back of your head and kept you firmly against his mouth still. 

Tormund having spread some kind of warm oil along his fingers did he grope your ass just as Jon did before, only the second you felt him pressing a finger to your ass did Jon keep you with a hand at the back of your head to his lips. Tormund sinking a finger slowly inside your tight ass, a cry desperate to leave but Jon kept you right against him and his lips. 

You felt strange, the feeling of Tormund slowly moving in and out, you thought it should be awful, and yet? You clung tighter to Jons front at the feeling, strange moans leaving you that were as pleasured as they were confused. His other hand now, Jon guided your hips without breaking the kiss to hover over his cock and in one rough go, he had you sink down as deep as he could go. 

Barley able to groan your name into his kiss, Jon moved to let go to grab at your hips. Holding you in place for a moment, Jon pulled from your lips, soaked and saliva trailed between you as his eyes so grey they looked black bore intensely into yours. “Tormund?” 

Moving to kiss and bite at your neck, Tormund begun to slide his finger in and out of your ass at a steadily increasing pace. Jon tense as he held you on his cock, watching your face but the second you felt Tormund test letting a second join, Jon waited only until he was about to slide in before moving you on his cock again. 

The slap of your hips against his, only matched by how desperately you cried out. No ability to hide the watering in your eyes as you burned from how much he stretched you, but how much Tormund was as well. Your hands grasping at Jons shoulders as he bounced you up and down on his cock refusing to let you look anywhere but right at his tense expression. The sound already, the slap of skin almost felt filthy in front of someone else. But, Tormund kissed and bit at your neck almost making you tilt your head to give him more space, but his free hand moved you back to keep on Jon as his other started thrusting two fingers in and out of your ass at a faster rate. 

Taking over where Tormund held, Jon cupped your cheek as he pulled your forehead against his, raking his hand through your hair to the back of your head. Your cries nothing but music to his ears, eyes sealing shut as he hissed at the pressure around his cock. You knew you were clenching tight around him, Jon barley able to move but a few short inches as you were sat deep on him. 

Your hands draped down over his chest, pressing against the scars as you muttered out so softly all you could find words, “Oh fuck..Jon..fuck, I can't-”

Voice rough he nodded against you as he helped set your pace even rougher to push back how tight you kept getting around him. “I know, darling, I know, but you can take it I know you can.” Just as you felt Tormund creep a third finger to slip in, you cried out with a jolt a the feeling. Jon pulling you to hide in his neck as you all but collapsed into him with a shake. His voice rough, eyes peeling up from where he held you close to glare at the other. “Go easy, she's never done this before.” 

Tormund reached a hand around placing it against your lower stomach and pushing down making you dig your nails where you held onto Jon even more just as he pushed forward. “Your the one who wants this, Snow. I get my cock in her pretty, slick cunt and I'm a happy man, you're the one making demands of her.” 

You didn't have the right mind set to figure out what was going on with them, but both Jon and Tormund were well aware of what the problem was. Jons need was fighting with how possessive he was getting. How much he really did want this, but it was clashing aggressively with how much he hated anyone else even having eyes for you, let alone getting as much of you as Jon did. 

Tormund knew this was going to be a struggle the second he came to him with this idea, but in his mind, if the crow wanted this he was going to have to shut up and let Tormund take care of you. You weren't some quick fuck out in the North you were someone the man cared about and he knew Jon had to get over it. 

You peeled your head up, finding Jons eyes as he looked almost concerned at you but you smothered that with a kiss. Much more gentle and innocent then the situation called for. Your hands on his cheeks as his returned to your hips, moving you steady but at a slower pace as your heart calmed down. “Do you want to stop?” 

Jon almost didn't move for a second, something slamming him in the gut at the image. You were a wreck, grasping onto him, too overwhelmed by both mens aggresssive ways of taking you but you still found it in you to look so gently at him asking if you were the one pushing things too far. Worried his aggression meant he wanted to stop, himself. 

He didn't expect that to be the thing that brought him down to earth again, but it just made his heart grow heavy. Shaking his head, he pulled you back in for a kiss before muttering against your lips. “What I want is for you to cum for me. Cum on my cock, and if you're alright with it, Tormund's going to have his chance at feeling what a beautiful, perfect cunt you have. Do you want that?” 

Nodding, Jon finally shared a look with Tormund. His fingers thrusting deep caused you to gasp loud, leaning forward himself to somewhat drape your back against his chest with his free arm around you as Jon fucked up into you. Muttering in your ear, “Making him lose his mind over there, getting pissed at me just beacuse he wants his cock deep in your pretty ass.” 

One hand of Jons held gently at the side of your neck as he leaned forward to where Tormund held, kissing more lightly down his side of your neck as the other groped at your breast. One hand of yours raking through his damp curls while the other reached back to rake through Tormunds. Nodding, you could barley keep your eyes open at the fullness of both men in you. 

Jon muttered deeply into your neck as he moved down to run his fingers tight at your clit, “Let me fill you, cum on my cock and I'll fill you just the way you like.” Once more only able to nod your head as your core tightened and your orgasm waved over your nerves, in an instant you knew whatever sound came from you must have been loud, as Jons head flew up to cover it up with a kiss. 

Barley managing any more thrusts, you felt Jons thick, warm cum spill inside you as he kept you sat deep on his cock. Both of you shaking from the intensity. Kissing you until you felt the last of him fill you, Jon moved from your lips to your neck then up to your ear. “Can you take both of us at the same time?” 

Nodding, “Please, I promise, I can take it..” 

Jon pulled back, heaving breaths of his own as he ran his hand over your cheek before nodding. “Turn around for me.” 

Almost nervously exhaling, you felt both men pull from you at the same time, your hand grasping tightly at Jons shoulder at the feeling with a wince. You could see him leaning in to check on you, but you raised your other hand out, indicating you were fine. Slowly, Jon let you turn so you faced Tormund. 

The larger man wasting no time grabbing you and pulling you up onto his lap. One hand at your waist, the other grasping your chin to look down between you with his own smirk. “Your hands going to look that small around my cock, then they do normally?” 

One hand raking up into his hair, the other you reached down letting your thumb run over his cocks tip already with enough for you to run along him leaking. He kept his composure better but his haw clenched tight as his breathing heavied, watching with keen eyes as you slowly wrapped your hand more around him, letting what cum already there smear more down his cock. A chuckle left him, though. “She always this gentle when she's with you, Snow?” 

Finally feeling Jon press against your back, his own hand covering his cock with whatever warm oils Tormund had prepared you with earlier, as his other hand draped across your stomach over your scar, voice deep but a bit more collected now. “Makes me crazy, just makes me want to ruin her more.”

Your lips parted slightly, Tormund sat up to pull your hand away and guide you right over his cock. “Come on, pretty crow. Show me what makes your wolf so fucking obsessed with you.” Tormunds hands were on your waist but you felt Jons on your hips. 

About to find something to say, Jon shocked you by taking charge for your nerves, and pulling you right down onto Tormunds cock, a crying moan leaving you instantly as the man before you let his head drop back with a deep groan. Your own mouth agape, and you knew the strange lurch in your heart was how you truly never expected to be with the man this way and certainly not so suddenly. 

Not sparing any time, Tormund begun fucking up into you as he purposely sat forward catching your eyes as he did so. The slap of his hips against yours had you clenching tight around him and the degree of sensitive you already were from Jon, had you weak. Hands finding his shoulders your head dropped as you moved with him, getting used to who it was inside you as easily as it felt so good.

But then you felt him, you felt Jons hand on your hip  as he urged Tormund to stop. Pressing the tip of his cock right at your ass, Jon draped you with a hand by your neck back against him to mutter in your ear. “You sure you want this?” But you just nodded, and he kept you pressed back against him as the only one who moved was Jon.

Whatever Tormund prepared you for, you almost weren't ready at all for Jon, a flinch a the slightest press. The hand on your neck curling up to turn and rest your face partially against his, he shushed you gently. “Hey, hey, relax for me.  I need you to be calm, okay? I want you to feel good, darling.” You swallowed and nodded, taking deep breaths as Jon slowly pushed the tip of his cock inside you. 

Tormund sat forward reaching for the space between the pair of you and holding firmly at the back of your neck as he ran his fingers down over your clit in tight patterns. Allowing Jon to slip just a little further in before you winced again, but strangely even to you following up with a moan. 

They went slow, Jon easing inside of you as Tormund was there to distract you anytime you tensed up from how overwhelmed it felt. And yet, as soon as Jon was deep inside of your ass, he groaned deeply. Resting his forehead against the back of your head, looking down to where he was sunk so deeply before pulling out. 

The feeling was so strange, it hurt, it felt odd and yet as Jon sunk back inside your mouth fell open in a silent cry. Grasping onto Tormund as Jon started a slow pace, not pulling out very much when you found the the mans eyes. Instead of asking though, you had a feeling Tormund would rather appreciate you moving on his cock on your own accord.

And judging by the groan he let out as you were slow moving up and down his cock, you were right. Just as much as you didn't want to stop with him either. Jon slowly made you shake and clench as he started to test out a faster pace. Your insides felt as if you were burning up, something overwhelmingly hot and twisting inside you, and as you picked up the pace on Tormunds cock, Jon thrusted harder into you. 

The closer you got to another orgasm, the closer Tormund got as he met your hips with his own thrusts, the more you enjoyed Jons cock in your ass. A whine leaving your lips as you clenched tightly around both of them before you felt the shocks slam into your blood. Sparking everywhere the burning hot star burst inside you and you collapsed into Tormund. His arms coming around you as he fucked up into you fast, his own end being sped towards and you didn't even have the awareness to understand what was happening outside their touch, your mind was a fog of only the two of them. 

But Jon knew, his voice rough while his cock was in a vice as he fucked your ass. Eyes dark and angry as he hissed out, “Pull out of her.” Tormund swearing under his breath as he pounded harder, but in a split second Jons voice rose to something so close to a growling yell, “Tormund-” 

It all happened too suddenly right as you were still too high in the sky from your orgasm, Tormund pulled out of you quickly, stroking roughly at his own cock before you felt him cum all over your stomach. But as soon as he was the only one inside you, Jon suddenly lost his patience. His thrusts turned to pounding, your head falling back against his shoulder he turned you with his free hand to lean back even more as he pressed his lips roughly to yours. Hand on the back of your hair keeping you there, Jon groaned much more freely as you ended up pushing back against him. 

Fisting your hair tightly, Jons voice murmured together roughly. “Gods, you like this, you like my cock deep in your ass.” Almost in awe Jon kept you tilted so he could look down at you while his cock fucked into you as you moved back against him the force of it was felt across your ass cheeks. “Fuck, my beautiful girl, look at you. Taking Tormunds cock, taking mine like this? I don't deserve you, you're perfect, my perfect girl,” Rambling he kissed you again and groaned. 

Burying his head now in your neck, Jon neared his end, and he knew he wanted to cum as deep as he could. Shifting, Jon moved so that as he pressed your front down, your palms having to brace against the furs, he realize how close to Tormunds cock you were again. 

Looking at the other, Jon with a hand on your spine trailed up to your hair again. “You want her mouth?” You couldn't even tell what the two were saying as Jon guided your head to Tormunds cock as he continued to pound into your ass with his teeth gritting at the warm tightness. “Suck his cock, darling.” 

His hand moved you down to take him. Your wetness still on him and now covered partially in his own cum, Jon moved you up and down the mans cock without letting you stop to breathe. His other hand holding tight as he grew rough. Pushing you to take Tormunds whole cock, Jon beckoned the man to take over with a rough, “Keep her right there.” Your heart racing at the overwhelming pressure in your throat from keeping him so deep. 

But Tormund kept you brushing against the wild, orange coarse hair around his cock as you gagged against him. “Gonna swallow every drop, pretty crow. Don't you waste anything I feed you.” 

Moaning against him, you felt him throb inside your mouth just as Jon growled your name, pounding five, six, seven more times all the while Tormund came deep in your mouth. Flooding you with his cum, dutifully making you swallow every drop with a needy moan. Only to have that increased as Jon pounded one last time before pressing himself against your back, head resting in between your shoulder blades as he came deep inside you. 

Filled in both ends, sweat and cum it felt like stuck to your skin as both men thrusted into whatever hole they saw fit to spill into. As Jons hips slowed, you felt gentle presses of his lips to your shoulder blades. Jons hand reaching around to run gently down the length of your throat, the sensation easing the tension and making Tormunds cum a little easier to swallow so deep.

The sounds of you trying to drink every last drop of cum had both men hold tightly. Tormund in your hair and Jon at your waist. 

If you were being honest, you barley were aware of anything after that for a while. You felt the pain and over stimulation as Jons cock slowly left your ass. How you gasped for air as Tormunds cock finally left your mouth, but you didn't really register anything around you. 

Catching your breathe on your hands and knees, it wasn't until Jon noticed the third time you didn't even seem to realize he was calling to you did he move quickly. Pulling you up into his arms, he turned you onto your back, keeping one wrapped around you as the other ran down your hair, murmuring gentle soothing words as you nuzzled into him. 

Glancing up at Tormund with almost a worry at how far you had dropped, the larger man sat down on the bed. Running a hand over your hip gently. Voice low as to not startle you so close but looking with affection at you all the same. “Just keep talking to her, she'll come back to you.” 

Burying his face in your neck, Jon spoke soothingly as he glanced up to the wildling man now grabbing at his own clothes. “I didn't sign up for your neediness, Snow. You're her problem, not mine.” 

Before he could leave, Jon called his name. A genuine look of thanks as he ran his hand down your hair, “I'm not kicking you out.” 

But the man smirked, “Fucking your girl? I'll be here. Staying to watch you act all cute and sappy after? Fuck no.” They both chuckled, and both had a feeling a discussion about boundaries was coming Tormunds way at some point, but for now, Jon let it go. 

The door closing, leaving just the two of you he turned you better to face him as he just ran a hand through your hair with gentle words until you came back to him. 

Finding his eyes, you reached up to cup his cheek and pull him into a gentle kiss as your bare bodies stayed tangled together. “Jon..”

Nudging your nose with his, Jon smiled. “Rest, darling.  You did so well, I'm proud of you.” 

Nodding as you easily let the sleep take over, you curled into his chest with your hands draped by his collar bones. Your voice quiet and mumbling, “I love you..” 

Mumbling it back, Jon kissed your hair, but for now, that was all he could give while you were drifting to sleep. And until you calmly fell asleep, Jon watched you the entire time, only snuggling down into the bed against you did he allow himself to close his eyes. 

He was glad you enjoyed it, beacuse as much as he did too, a bigger part of Jon hated every single second he was sharing you and the likelihood of doing it any more, was slim to none. 

Jon Snow was far too in love with you to open this relationship up to other people ever again.

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

Rhaegar did not love Lyanna, rather it was a seduction to have his prophecy, just as he did not love Elia, that is obvious, it is implied between the lines that he wanted a third child, what they justify to say that he loved her are trivial things.

The story of Bael the bard, for example, is used as an example, but it doesn't say that Bael loved the winter rose, it only says that she loved him.

This quote I saw says the opposite of Rhaegar loving Lyanna someone had a “rhaegar was a romantic hero” shirt. parris agreed then george said there was something romantic to rhaegar. whether a hero or not, depends on the perspective. “today's hero may be tomorrow' villain,” pointing out how time can change reputation.—— asshai interview source of the quote: elio garcia, a writer of twoiaf who was present at the barcelona interview

the opinions about rhaegar are provided by people who were in love with rhaegar joncon cercei or like barristan or jaime who feel guilty and also barristan says that nobody has really met rhaegar but they are based on ned's opinion when ned doesn't speak ill of the dead or badly of people i don't think lyanna told him anything about rhaegar what he did to her if he found her very serious

I think he manipulated her and locked her in his tower without medical help because he didn't do things right because he didn't come to an agreement with his family but he didn't make her his mistress and left her with three guards while he went to fight for his father who killed Brandon and his father and still condemned a child to be a bastard knowing the prejudices of Westeros so it's not a love story

it’s obvious that you have confirmation bias and do not care to engage in a meaningful discussion. it seems that you’d rather play into ridiculous headcanons that border on fanon, but i don’t mind humoring you :)

you claim that it is implied that rhaegar didn’t love lyanna and that he only seduced her for prophecy, and yet the reality is that this is only a headcanon with very little textual basis. the idea comes from one of daenerys HotU visions, which can be interpreted in numerous ways. the idea also sorta comes from a Jon Con chapter when he remembers that the maesters told rhaegar that elia would have no more children. that is all the textual basis that this headcanon has. that is it. there’s no mention of lyanna in any of these scenes. if george wanted to connect the idea that rhaegar only wanted lyanna for a prophecy, he’d find a way to bring it up in a much clearer way. honestly… treating these two scenes like the gospel is dumb as hell, and if i analyzed the text this way i could confirm any crackpot theory i wanted to.

on the other hand, rhaegar and lyanna being a love story has actually already played out in the show (though i hate the show). lyanna and rhaegar also have official artwork where they’re together, and if i need to read between the lines instead of taking POV characters thoughts about rhaegar and lyanna being a love story for foreshadowing, then all i need to do is go to danys chapter as she’s marrying hizdahr as she wishes (putting herself in lyanna’s shoes) that daario would carry her off like rhaegar did with lyanna. that is actual foreshadowing. your headcanon meets the bare minimum requirements of a headcanon, and borders on a fanon take

you also say that bael the bards love story with the winter rose isn’t supposed to be romantic, so i think you actually struggle to read between the lines. please remember that it is ygritte who tells jon snow that bael stole the winter rose. stole. in free folk culture, men stealing women is marriage, and it means the man wants the woman because he chose her. the idea is that a woman must fight back if she doesn’t want to be stolen, and i’d like to remind you that you are the one who said that the winter rose loved bael… so what does that tell you about lyanna’s opinion on rhaegar? also, ygritte actually parallels herself with the winter rose (with some sexual innuendo), which also connects her with lyanna, meaning jon’s playing both bael and rhaegar, and we know for certain that jon did love ygritte. another bael the bard type story that plays out is when jon sends mance to steal arya back. mance calls himself abel and we know that arya was actually jeyne, so i think it’s clear that mance and jeyne are acting as jon and aryas stand ins, which tells me that i should take jon and aryas feelings into account as they are the ones that are actually paralleling the bael (rhaegar) and the winter rose (lyanna). and we know for certain that jon adores arya and that arya wants to go to jon, so i think it’s very well supported that rhaegar and lyanna loved each other. can you tell that i’m reading between the lines? i think i’m doing a great job at it.

you claim that our sources on rhaegar are not reliable, or that bael the bards story isn’t a love story, all while providing a quote (though i do not know where you got it from, and frankly i do not trust you) where george supposedly says that there was something romantic to rhaegar… idk what to tell you at this point. also, the stuff george supposedly says about rhaegar being a hero or not or “todays hero may be tomorrows villain” is literally stated to be about rhaegar’s huge change in reputation. it’s not confirming anything about rhaegar and lyanna. truthfully, it’s only hinting that rhaegar was a romantic. tbh, it seems like geroge considers rhaegar a hero based on the way he worded his thoughts, but that’s just my interpretation of that supposed quote.

your last passage is complete fanon and totally inconsistent with your own logic. if rhaegar supposedly got with her for his prophecy to have a third child, then not having medical help is dumb af. what if the baby died? the reality is that all we know about the tower of joy comes from an unreliable dream ned has. the dream doesn’t depict what actually happened. tbh i don’t even want to cover anything else you’re saying because it’s just not supported by the text.

i don’t think you realize how hypocritical you are.

[esther-dot]

I was reading your comments about Jon's chivalry and protecting the vulnerable. This all brought to mind Jon's TV ending of stabbing Dany in the heart while kissing her. While we don't know whether or not this version of Dany's end is close to what will be the written version, it seems as though it's possible in part because of the Nissa Nissa legend. Jon doing that in the books (or something like it) would align with the Azor Ahai story, but in a warped sort of way, leaving events open to interpretation (as is usual with the prophecies and legends). But in any case, Jon killing a woman will be an act that is antithetical to so many of his values that it seems like it would come close to destroying him even if justified within Jon's universe. I wonder if Martin really plans to bring Jon this low, but also how it will be received. The optics of portraying such an ending for Dany given today's sensibilities could be viewed even more dimly than it would have been when Martin started writing the series?

(about this ask)

I'm so sorry that it's taken me this long to respond! I have finally reread some pertinent chapters to situate my thoughts.

First, I just want to acknowledge how upsetting this spec is to some, and remind everyone, no one wants this ending. We all think it's gross, we're just discussing the possibility, not merely because of the show, because it's an old theory. I looked around and saw posts about this starting in 2013 by Dany fans. So, the presence of this myth is substantial enough, even BNFs/Jonerys shippers felt like it had a strong chance of manifesting (although they believe Dany would willingly sacrifice herself) well before D&D committed their fuckery. I suppose all that answers your question. Man killing his lover is a gross trope, being forced to kill a loved one to save the world is overused, so now, I can't imagine anyone reading it and being happy about it.

In trying to look at the context in-canon Martin has created, he's taken it out of the strict man kills lover idea of the AA/NN myth, and is discussing the idea of sacrificing an innocent child to a god which fans have already compared to myth, Stannis & Shireen = Agamemnon & Iphigeneia. This sacrifice hasn't happened yet, but it's been confirmed as a Martin plot point. Stannis is already burning people alive, justifying kid killing, and Davos has already planted the Stannis=AA, kid=NN idea:

Davos was remembering a tale Salladhor Saan had told him, of how Azor Ahai tempered Lightbringer by thrusting it through the heart of the wife he loved. He slew his wife to fight the dark. If Stannis is Azor Ahai come again, does that mean Edric Storm must play the part of Nissa Nissa? (ASOS, Davos V)

Although, rather than this being a justified death, the fans will be horrified as we're meant to be. Davos' thoughts call into question the idea of killing another for your "magic sword":

A true sword of fire, now, that would be a wonder to behold. Yet at such a cost . . . When he thought of Nissa Nissa, it was his own Marya he pictured, a good-natured plump woman with sagging breasts and a kindly smile, the best woman in the world. He tried to picture himself driving a sword through her, and shuddered. I am not made of the stuff of heroes, he decided. If that was the price of a magic sword, it was more than he cared to pay. (ACOK, Davos I)

and Martin impresses upon us the value of each life:

"Your Grace," said Davos, "the cost . . ." "I know the cost! Last night, gazing into that hearth, I saw things in the flames as well. I saw a king, a crown of fire on his brows, burning . . . burning, Davos. His own crown consumed his flesh and turned him into ash. Do you think I need Melisandre to tell me what that means? Or you?" The king moved, so his shadow fell upon King's Landing. "If Joffrey should die . . . what is the life of one bastard boy against a kingdom?" "Everything," said Davos, softly. (ASOS, Davos V)

The talk of greater good/killing kids reminds me of AGOT in which Ned's story is inundated with the topic of child murder/protecting kids. We have Mycah, his memories of Aegon and Rhaenys, his promise to protect Jon, his guilt over his lies and treason bubbling up repeatedly, his fight against the assassination of Dany, his attempt to save Cersei's children from Robert...we all know, kid killing is wrong according to Martin, so we've already been told that this wannabe AA's actions are contemptible. The myth in which the sacrifice is happy to die, that sacrificing someone is heroic, it's being contradicted by what we're being shown in the Stannis storyline.

Now, while Stannis is being declared Azor Ahai, we're constantly being told he isn't. Jon calls the act a mummer's farce and comments on his cold sword and that is right before a Dany chapter, so the idea is, Dany is actually AA. @trinuviel is the first person I saw lay out the argument for that and contend that being AA is a bad thing (meta parts 1, 2, 3). People have said that Drogo kinda becomes her Nissa Nissa in that scenario. She burns him to get the dragons, and what are the dragons called?

"When I went to the Hall of a Thousand Thrones to beg the Pureborn for your life, I said that you were no more than a child," Xaro went on, "but Egon Emeros the Exquisite rose and said, 'She is a foolish child, mad and heedless and too dangerous to live.' When your dragons were small they were a wonder. Grown, they are death and devastation, a flaming sword above the world." He wiped away the tears. "I should have slain you in Qarth." (ADWD, Daenerys III)

That kinda makes us think, oh, the myth already has a canon counterpart, don't need to worry about it anymore. Only, we've also said Rhaegar impregnating a young Lyanna could be read as a play on Nissa Nissa, with him risking her life to get the prophecy baby, otherwise known as the third head of the dragon. And Jon is not only a kind of dragon, he repeatedly intones that fun little phrase about being a sword, and sometimes, that happens within an interesting context (for speculation purposes):

"I will." Do not fail me, he thought, or Stannis will have my head. "Do I have your word that you will keep our princess closely?" the king had said, and Jon had promised that he would. Val is no princess, though. I told him that half a hundred times. It was a feeble sort of evasion, a sad rag wrapped around his wounded word. His father would never have approved. I am the sword that guards the realm of men, Jon reminded himself, and in the end, that must be worth more than one man's honor. (ADWD, Jon VIII)

So, although there is one character that seems to be Azor Ahai (Dany), I am definitely open to the myth manifesting, or rather, being examined from multiple angles. IMO, that's what Martin is doing and we can use each variation to reassess what he's saying with it. We have Dany and Drogo (the official one/successful one), Rhaegar and Lyanna (not AA, but Jon is born), Stannis and Edric (denied), Stannis and Shireen (he will kill Shireen, but we don't know if he'll get what he wants and we do know he isn't AA)... lots of pics of a similar idea. To emphasize Stannis not being the dude and Dany being the "real" AA, we have that Jon passage and chapter transition:

Even though we have lots of contenders and commentary about this myth with the canon characters, none of it romanticizes human sacrifice, and all works towards the twist that what is said to be a hero/the weapon that will save people brings destruction. If we look back at it critically, Dany has a habit of accepting, or even causing, the suffering of others for her greater good, including sacrificing Mirri to get her dragons. We might even argue that Mirri is a Nissa Nissa for her, as Dany had taken Mirri under her protection before killing her to get dragons.

That being said, even though we're getting told this shit is bad in canon, the indictment of killing innocents and people who depend on you to protect them, it wouldn’t apply if someone were to kill Stannis or Dany. It isn’t on the same moral level as killing a child, or a spouse who loves and trusts you. It isn't the same as invading and then killing people who won't worship your god or accept you as a leader. It isn't the same as killing a slave, simply because, when their times come, Dany and Stannis will be guilty. After their actions, it would be justice for them to die. I think why other parts of the fandom entertain the idea of Dany as NN while also condemning us for entertaining it, is that Dany's vision does have her being grasped at by hands of her "children" and fans have this idea that she is sacrificing herself/her happiness for the greater good already, and in the AA/Nissa Nissa story, it does sound like she offers herself willingly for the tempering of the sword. So to them, it’s part of Dany’s heroism. Dany's death is inevitable to some, at the hands of Jon is ok, but her not dying a hero, that's unacceptable.

But thinking about how it's been discussed thus far, I can't imagine we're gonna get a romanticized version of the AA/NN myth in canon when so far, it's pretty dark/condemned. None of that precludes Jon killing Dany in what you described as a:

warped sort of way, leaving events open to interpretation (as is usual with the prophecies and legends).

which really sticks out to me as the important part of all this.

The idea that Jon might do it and characters recognize it as a tragic love story a la the myth, that fascinates me because of how Martin has written wild rumors into the story (rumors about Dany, Robb, and Sansa spring to mind), and some of us have written reality and what the public thinks into fic as two distinct things because it feels like a potential way the story might go. What is widely known to be true, like say, Jon being Ned's bastard, may not be the truth that we the readers come to know. There's no guarantee that Westeros will know what the readers know about past or future events. We may get a take on AA/NN, the characters in-world may not understand it the same way.

Jon is undeniably a hero, in a world where institutional corruption is rampant and ideals abandoned, he’s a standout in his values. We would expect, and we find, contrasts between him and these other characters (Dany, Rhaegar, Stannis), primarily, his practical actions that are about saving life/protecting life, even from Stannis, so the idea that he would abandon certain values, it's a tough one. The difference is, while Stannis, Rhaegar, and Dany were acting on these prophecies or visions or dreams, things we're repeatedly warned against trusting in the text, Jon would be taking action based on the fact that Dany is a mass-murderer, a threat to all of Westeros. It isn't a sacrifice to an unknown god for some promised mystical good, it's justice. The religious fanaticism wouldn't be a factor, the killing of an innocent wouldn't be a factor, killing a child wouldn't be a factor, killing to achieve a self-serving end wouldn't be a factor. All the things that have been criticized thus far aren't at play.

The moral quandary presented to the audience in AGOT is killing someone who might be a threat, but is a child at the moment, and Martin presents the sneaky assassination / child killing as abhorrent:

Grand Maester Pycelle cleared his throat, a process that seemed to take some minutes. "My order serves the realm, not the ruler. Once I counseled King Aerys as loyally as I counsel King Robert now, so I bear this girl child of his no ill will. Yet I ask you this—should war come again, how many soldiers will die? How many towns will burn? How many children will be ripped from their mothers to perish on the end of a spear?" He stroked his luxuriant white beard, infinitely sad, infinitely weary. "Is it not wiser, even kinder, that Daenerys Targaryen should die now so that tens of thousands might live?" "Kinder," Varys said. "Oh, well and truly spoken, Grand Maester. It is so true. Should the gods in their caprice grant Daenerys Targaryen a son, the realm must bleed." Littlefinger was the last. As Ned looked to him, Lord Petyr stifled a yawn. "When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman, the best thing to do is close your eyes and get on with it," he declared. "Waiting won't make the maid any prettier. Kiss her and be done with it." "Kiss her?" Ser Barristan repeated, aghast. "A steel kiss," said Littlefinger. (AGOT, Eddard VIII)

which is all interesting context for Dany later being assassinated, especially because the first lesson Martin gives us on justice is one that Jon is there for, and then is reiterated in relation to Dany:

Ned had heard enough. "You send hired knives to kill a fourteen-year-old girl and still quibble about honor?" He pushed back his chair and stood. "Do it yourself, Robert. The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. Look her in the eyes before you kill her. See her tears, hear her last words. You owe her that much at least." (AGOT, Eddard VIII)

The convo about killing Dany with LF is about a bedding and before that it was presented in terms of a wedding gift, which makes me squint now knowing the AA/NN stuff:

Yes, it's awful, and I do understand, almost agree with you here:

But in any case, Jon killing a woman will be an act that is antithetical to so many of his values that it seems like it would come close to destroying him even if justified within Jon's universe.

but the way it might tie together the initial discussion of killing Dany and the eventual act weighs heavily with me when determining what Martin might do and why/why not.

The other suggestion is that Arya kills Dany. If having dragons is Chechov's gun for KL burning then Arya being a trained assassin feels like a Chechov's gun for killing Dany. But in that scenario, there is no conflict. No inner struggle. We spent so much of AGOT weighing the morals of killing Dany, it's hard for me to believe when the time comes, it's presented without any moral complexity. Arya is already able and willing to take a life, even when it isn't justified. It doesn't feel right to me that killing Dany would be a presented without an inner struggle, that it would be done easily, as easily as Arya now kills. TBH, it removes the drama if someone other than Jon does it because it will be so highly necessary and just when the time comes. Jon is really the only character who can make it squeamish because of the guy killing a woman thing and because it will be kinslaying.

There is a lot of talk about poison, so I think it's totally possible Arya tries to kill Dany with poison first, but I think Jon is more likely to be the one to successfully kill her, and in a way that calls to mind Ned's opinion on it, See her tears, hear her last words. That would allow Martin to make sure we see it as just/moral, bring home the Targ v Targ issue, and it shades Ned's decisions and values in a very interesting way.

After s8 fans said Ned was wrong to fight against killing Dany in s1, but Martin thinks he was right to object to killing children, so for the two Targ children he was protecting in AGOT (Dany and Jon) to come face to face and one kill the other prevents the conclusion that Ned was wrong. It was the same mercy, the same refusal to see the child of an enemy as an enemy, that saved the boy who will in turn save Westeros. IMO, it's a way to uphold the belief in mercy. I tend to think it’s also Martin’s way of addressing one his questions about his beloved LOTR (what about orc babies etc).

If another person ends Dany, we still get dead Dany, but it doesn't say anything interesting? Killing her wouldn't be a sacrifice on anyone else's part, she won’t be loved and she has to go. But, Jon, who so desperately wants to have honor, if he kills her, it's right as well as an egregious "sin." Ned dishonors himself to protect Sansa (and obvy was committing treason to protect Jon), it feels like coming full circle for Jon, who so wants to be worthy of being a son to Ned to follow his path there too. Also, one thing I expect we’ll keep tracking is kinslaying. Kinslaying comes up with the AA/Nissa Nissa issue in the Stannis storyline, so I do expect that to be addressed in Jon chapters:

We have the whole baby switch to assure us, Jon values human life a great deal. All the same, that involves a moment of cruelty on Jon's side, so Martin isn't interested in keeping him perfectly pure. He likes those moments where doing the right thing is very difficult, even compromising in some way. It's why, while we say Ned committing treason for Jon is a no brainer, Martin writes Ned tortured by it. He likes the inner turmoil over decisions, placing a societal good (honor) against another obligation or ideal and asking what is right.

I wonder if Martin really plans to bring Jon this low, but also how it will be received. The optics of portraying such an ending for Dany given today's sensibilities could be viewed even more dimly than it would have been when Martin started writing the series?

Despite all the ways I think it makes sense, yes, I def think this is one of those areas that if he had finished the series as quickly as he'd hoped, would have gone over better. Dany has dragons, therefore, she will be an overwhelming threat to Westeros, so it isn't like Jon will just randomly kill a woman, yet it's distasteful all the same. Martin is looking at things from the context of his story and the ideas he’s already introduced/talking about though which is why I can wince but kinda understand it. There are other issues where my sensibilities diverge from his, so didn’t like it on the show, I don’t like it for the books, still think it’s probably gonna happen. 🤷🏻‍♀️

[dipperscavern]

the ponderer has been called upon, the ponderer has pondered, the ponderer has answered. FREAKY PONDERER OUT, LIBRARIAN PONDERER IN!

the only mentions of body hair removal from the neck down in the asoiaf universe from what i remember off the top of my head is roose bolton’s freaky ass being clean shaven (which is my favourite thing ever btw hes so fucking weird for that literally what is his issue im crying thats why his son gets down and dirty like that) and then when they shaved cercei for her walk of shame. OH and also, tormund says that wildlings don’t shave as a jest, which would infer that southern women are a bit more concerned about shaving for aesthetics. basically they never mention it in talks of sex. which makes it seem like not a big deal.

historically— being that the asoiaf universe is essentially just a reflection medieval european society in its customs, shaving was not yet seen as a norm. though it did exist in certain contexts; female sex workers would shave their pubic hair to prevent spread of sti’s (i.e., pubic lice), and as a kind of proof of cleanliness. there is documented evidence that high born ladies also shaved but, again, not a norm at the time.

[upon further examination, it seems that shaving being synonymous with cleanliness is largely a result of religious beliefs and their interpretation of cleanliness which i could see happening in an asoiaf context with the high septon and the faith of the seven as they did shave cercei for her cleansing ritual… thats just food for thought; it remains that cregan would not give a fuck though because i do not believe that in the faith of the old gods they conglomerate shaving and cleanliness 🤷‍♀️ JUST FOOD FOR THOUGHT]

TDLR;;; cregan dgaf. northern men in general. i doubt southern men hold clean shaven women in high regard either. there’s probably some freak that likes bare pussy but its not cregan or any stark man. that’s canon. this was way too long of an explanation just to say that hairy pussy is better than no pussy sorry guys

ROOSE BOLTON IS CLEAN SHAVEN?? DID I SKIM OVER THAT CHAPTER? I AM IN TEARS 😭😭 “roose boltons freaky ass” pondering anon my silliest goose (also ur asks r never too long. EVER.)

anyways, shaving being synonymous w cleanliness in the interperated eyes of the seven makes a lot of sense. when i read cersei being shaved i didn’t even really register it, but it definitely makes sense. like the hair on her head (i think) it was kind of a symbolism for her being renewed, wiping the slate clean yk?

i can see some highborn ladies being prickly about it, especially with the amount of lords into uh.. children. so it would make sense they’d want them to present more…. yk? picking up what i’m putting down here?

also, ur so right. i don’t think the old gods would care about that either. jon says something about wanting to take ygritte under the weirwood tree in the godswood, “in the sight of the old gods”. my point is it shows that the old gods are very sex-positive (and jon was like 15 when he said that, so they’re taught those beliefs from a very young age)

and YES. REGARDLESS OF CUTLURE, THE STARK MEN WOULD NOT CAREEEEE FIGHT ME ACTUALLY SWING ON IT

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

I'm thinking about how "cripples and bastards and broken things" isn't just about compassion shared between those who have been systematically othered. Because at its core, it's driven by love. Brotherly love. It starts with Jon who loved his brother Bran so purely and unconditionally that upon receiving news of his survival, was wholly preoccupied with Bran's mere living.

“Crippled,” Mormont said. “I’m sorry, boy. Read the rest of the letter.” He looked at the words, but they didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Bran was going to live. “My brother is going to live,” he told Mormont. The Lord Commander shook his head, gathered up a fistful of corn, and whistled. The raven flew to his shoulder, crying, “Live! Live!” Jon ran down the stairs, a smile on his face and Robb’s letter in his hand. “My brother is going to live,” he told the guards. They exchanged a look. He ran back to the common hall, where he found Tyrion Lannister just finishing his meal. He grabbed the little man under the arms, hoisted him up in the air, and spun him around in a circle. “Bran is going to live!” he whooped. Lannister looked startled. Jon put him down and thrust the paper into his hands. “Here, read it,” he said.

(Jon III, AGOT)

In fact it's his unbridled joy that helps Jon make peace with the rest of the NW recruits, something he had been struggling with for an entire chapter.

And it's this love that leads him to entreat Tyrion and ask for his help later on. He can give Rickon material possessions and pass on boasting words to Robb, but he's quite at a loss as to how he can help Bran. He only recognizes, and empathizes, that Bran does indeed need some sort of help. But it's here that he realized that though material possessions won't do much for his brother, his love can go a long way. He can't give Bran all the things in his chamber as he did for Rickon, but he can give him love.

“Rickon can’t read yet. Bran …” He stopped suddenly. “I don’t know what message to send to Bran. Help him, Tyrion.” “What help could I give him? I am no maester, to ease his pain. I have no spells to give him back his legs.” “You gave me help when I needed it,” Jon Snow said. “I gave you nothing,” Tyrion said. “Words.” “Then give your words to Bran too.”

And Tyrion recognizes this

“You’re asking a lame man to teach a cripple how to dance,” Tyrion said. “However sincere the lesson, the result is likely to be grotesque. Still, I know what it is to love a brother, Lord Snow. I will give Bran whatever small help is in my power.”

(Tyrion III, AGOT)

Though Tyrion is skeptical, Jon's love for Bran does push him to act. And he no doubt relates as he too has a brother whom he loves dearly. So when he finally presents himself before Winterfell's court and is met with hostility, he uses this love to make his case.

“Will I truly be able to ride?” Bran asked. He wanted to believe them, but he was afraid. Perhaps it was just another lie. The crow had promised him that he could fly. “You will,” the dwarf told him. “And I swear to you, boy, on horseback you will be as tall as any of them.” Robb Stark seemed puzzled. “Is this some trap, Lannister? What’s Bran to you? Why should you want to help him?” “Your brother Jon asked it of me. And I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples and bastards and broken things.” Tyrion Lannister placed a hand over his heart and grinned.

(Bran IV, AGOT)

We've seen Tyrion use japes to bring himself out of awkward situations. Yet when his intentions are questioned here, he chooses instead to use the truth to advocate for himself. In this tense moment, Tyrion uses a brother's love (Jon's and his own) as his shield.