#p: aemon jon

[stormborns]

GAME OF THRONES 5.05, Kill the Boy

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

What Could Never Be

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 4.7k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, smut, p in v, discussions of virginity

Notes: A request for a what if Jon and reader had sex before the start of Heart of the Great Wolf. It did not turn out quite what y'all had in mind, but it felt appropriate to end where it did. It also works as a companion piece to the last section of Scattered Memories of the Starks. Series Masterlist Here.

He considered not doing it. Looking down at you, your wide eyes who only moments before had stopped to ask him if he was okay, and for a moment he was not sure if he wanted to say he was or wasn’t. It was a few questions holding him back, and it was those few questions which were of the most importance when it would come down to it.

Jon had been planning this all out. All day yes, but also, for a lot longer then he wanted to admit. This was the sort of interaction that had him question what he wanted for his future for years. More then he could even recall at this point in his life. It seemed normal to get here, bedding a woman. Certainly a beautiful woman whom he had been in love with for most of his life, but he still knew he was pushing boundaries here, he was approaching the limit of what was appropriate, acceptable, or even decent and not sure if he wished to take the plunge into the waters he himself had walked up to the cliff of.

You didn’t come up with this yourself, you still on the side of far too innocent even at this point in your life, what were you to say? What were you to do when the idea begun to brew in the secret quiet between you both? He had taken it as slow as he could for years getting to this point, but even now he was willing to stop right here. Slowly having taken everything off of you, and you with trembling hands having pulled only his shirt off of him, Jon now hovered above you. Your body new and bare for his eyes to feast upon, and your shy legs spread trying to give him what you assumed he wanted.

And he did, Jon did not want you nor anyone to get him wrong about that. But it was more complicated then what he wanted, or what you wanted alone. Far more complicated.

None called you it in formality, King Robert it seemed did not denote the same titles upon his brothers and nieces that other royals like the Targaryens did. But it did not change the fact that you were not just a Lady of House Baratheon. You were a Princess of House Baratheon, the royal family, rulers of the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms. Your uncle was King, your father the Kings brother, your cousins all the heirs to that crown and even you were in that line of succession. If Jon were to think deeply on it, where you were in that line.

Robert was King. Then it would pass to his eldest son Joffery, your cousin which you had never spoken highly of in your life. Then to Robert’s youngest child and second son Tommen, for all intents and purposes he seemed to be a sweet innocent boy who you were rather fond of. You spoke once that he had recently been gifted a kitten for his Nameday, which he promptly named Ser Pounce, due to his tendency to walk about the castle walls and pounce at passerbyers. Then it was a bit muddied. Both Andal law and laws of the First Men dictated that a daughter would inherit before an uncle, but the Iron Throne had it’s own laws of succession that changed that dynamic a bit.

You had explained it to him once. Why and when this had occurred the way it did. King Jaehaerys’s firstborn son and long standing heir to the Iron Throne Prince Aemon had been killed. Fighting a skirmish of Myrish pirates on Tarth when an arrow meant for the lord standing next to him struck him through the throat and he drowned in his own blood. Laws by that point dictated that because the heir to the Iron Throne had his own heir, it should rightfully pass down through that bloodline as it normally would had Aemon sat the throne anyways.

But there was an issue. King Jaehaerys did not wish for Aemons child to become his heir, because it was a granddaughter. An ancestor of yours born by a Baratheon mother, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen. So he created a precedence in which to allow an uncle to inherit before a daughter, so that Jaehaerys’s second son Baelon could become the next heir instead of the Aemon’s daughter.

Where the Iron Throne in your family should’ve passed to Roberts second child and firstborn daughter Princess Myrcella, Jaehaerys’s now created a new succession law which meant that your own father, Stannis Baratheon would be next in line. Then the Baratheon brothers youngest Renly, then Myrcella. And then, you.

Never did you speak on it, but you were sixth in line for the Iron Throne. Which in the grand manner of things, seemed very far away but if Targaryen history told Jon anything that it did not often take much to have distant relatives jump the line and find themselves in a position of great power. King Aegon V was what, Jon thought? Fourth? Fifth in line? Jon did not wish to look down at you now and think that he was putting you in that position. He did not like the idea that he was placing himself, nothing more then a bastard in a position where he was taking away from a Princess’s value.

Of course to Jon, your value was more then your virtue alone, but he was the one who was in love with you. His opinion on the matter was of limited value. You were a Princess, and marrying you off to a High Lord of great strength and power was what you were quite literally born to do, and it was of the upmost importance that your virtue was kept intact. You could not be tainted, and yet? Why was he still here? Why was Jon putting this at risk? Why was Jon not listening to the very important question rattling around in his mind?

What if he got you pregnant?

Yet you looked up at him with innocent eyes, wondering eyes that despite the worry was trusting Jon to make sure everything was going to be okay. And he wanted to promise you that, he wanted to promise you that this would not ruin things for you, for your life, for friendship and all else this was. But, Jon wasn’t sure, and he didn’t know what part of him was selfish enough to go through with this over the sensibilities his father taught him, but here he was. About to do it anyways.

Jon could not quite pinpoint what part of him was wanting this more then he wanted to be sensible. He wanted to tell himself to stop. He didn’t want to get you pregnant, he didn’t want to ruin your reputation, he didn’t want to ruin your life. Ruin the life of the child you’d have because of him. What likelihood would there be that’d he would even get the chance to see them? You’d be dragged back to Kings Landing, or even Dragonstone and his actions would be so disgraceful towards you that he’d no doubt never even see his own child.

They’d grow up a bastard without a father, just as he grew up a bastard without a mother. Lonely, and isolated, and mocked and it was no life for a child. He always told himself for years, he didn’t want to marry. He didn’t want a wife. He didn’t want children. He said it to himself over and over again for years and maybe one day he would fully believe himself. He’d close his eyes at night and no longer seen an image of you and him hidden away in a little cabin far away. Maybe go north of the Wall.

You’d get pregnant, and Jon would whisk you away there. Build you a little cabin out there, a nice hearth right in the middle to keep you warm and a big bed with many furs to keep each other warm at night as you both were free to love and breed as much as both of you could want. Jon never really looked at things in that way and thought freedom, he only ever thought it with you. But, it was a fantasy. Jon knew he’d never take you away from your life, and as much as getting you pregnant would shame his own family now, running away with you like that would shame them even worse. But perhaps only for this very moment, he could hover over you and imagine that what if before going through with it just to lie to himself that everything was going to be fine.

“Jon?”

Your gentle, sweet voice brought him back. A trembling hand lifted up lightly and grazed over the scruff of his facial hair along his jaw before trailing to his cheek. Looking back at you properly, his curls hanging over you both more like a curtain to hide both your nerves, Jon found your wide eyes. Green like emeralds bright in the shining sun looking up at him. His voice did not come out quite yet, a weight stuck in the back of his throat unable to speak, his arms now almost shaking as he held himself up over you. That and his stern silence must have made you more nervous then you already were.

Running your thumb back and forth over the skin kept him looking at you, kept him more focused on you properly instead of drifting away. Once more your voice spoke, a soothing nature fell over it like a mother draping a blanket over her slumbering child, always caring and taking care of others despite your outward nature to be rough and closed off. “Did you want to stop?”

It took Jon only a moment to think about it this time. What of his father was no longer at the forefront, and it felt like something burning hot in his blood which could no longer stop it. You were a Princess of House Baratheon, and he was nothing more then the bastard of Winterfell, but he was going to take that risk greater then he had any right too no matter what. Something obsessive took over, and realized he would not survive letting you leave this room without feeling all of what you were presenting yourself for the taking here and now.

Was it the possessiveness of a wolf doing it? Or was it something more fierce? Jon didn’t know. But his voice was gruff and husking as he spoke it anyways. “No. No, I don’t want to stop.”

He wanted to be gentle, he truly did.

A hand sliding to the back of your head, Jon grasped a thick handful of your luscious dark hair and pulled tight, yanking you upwards to his lips just as he descended upon yous with as much need. Capturing you in a harsh kiss, your hands instinctively reached up to hold onto his forearms to steady yourself. If you were trembling before, seven hells could Jon feel it now in you. The nerves rushing through you, how you both were eager to kiss him back but completely taken aback by his sudden rush of aggression.

Tilting your head to to him better, Jon begun to move more. Shifting forward, his brows furrowed as he struggled to find the right angle to both kiss and feel you against him, instead choosing to reach up blindly as he let go of your hair. Feeling where the pillows against his bed sat before knocking them all down at once, uncaring as to where they landed on his floor.

What felt like a gasp came from you, but it only had Jons blood burn a little more. Now moving you by your hair so you lay more flat against his bed, Jon could hover over you more. His body moving down until he felt you gasp once more into his kiss, the feeling of his body more prominently pressing down into yours, his hips without even much forethought pressing into yours, your bare legs shaking just the slightest, an internal fight within your mind to either close them or open more to explore the feeling his covered length pressing into you was giving.

How hard he felt so suddenly near took him off guard. He was worked up before, he was wanting, but now he felt worked up. Too much so. Jon felt as if he was going to break if he didn’t feel more of you now. Pressing you down more into his bed, Jon deepened his kiss, biting down onto your lips before sliding his tongue into your unsuspecting mouth. Tilting your head once more as he refused your ability to move away from him, your nails digging into the skin of his arms in a stinging kind of way that he wanted more of.

Jon wanted to feel those pretty nails digging into his back to the point he’d be unable to take his clothes off in front of any but you least they find out about the animal clawing at his back in the shape of a girls hand. He didn’t want to know what Robb would think, or worse what Theon would loudly speculate about and who would know within an instant. Arya would, she had caught Jon kissing you once in the stables years previous and now watched over you both like a hawk. Jon knew she wanted more to come of this, but she was still at the age he was when he thought marrying you was once possible.

She didn’t yet realize how impossible it would be and the degree which their father would never allow it. It had been decades he wished his father would ask the King to make Jon a true Stark, and just like that he’d never be the bastard of Winterfell again. Jon would never be a Stark, and would thus never marry you and he wished Arya wouldn’t still look at the both of you wrongly thinking that it would ever be so. He appreciated her support, and her discretion, but it wasn’t possible. And going through with this was just one more risk in the lines of what would never be and Jon would have to be careful going forward.

That logical part of his mind once more attempted to ask what would he and you do about your maidenhood once going through with this. But, the darker, more possessive and burning hot blood in his veins told him to forget it. You were smart, you both could figure out a work around. A story. Surely some woman would have an answer as to how to lie about such things realistically and not be caught.

Or you could take her and run.

No. The word no was emphatic going through Jons head. That was not what he was going to do. That fight within him felt like it was a losing one. He did not want to steal you like Old Nan used to tell him the wildlings did with Northern women. He was better then that, and those instincts speaking otherwise did not have to be the loudest ones. They needed to be silenced, just something feral and primal in his brain which could’ve been the wolf within him. He just needed to stay in the moment, remind himself he was no more then just a man.

A man on his bed, kissing the girl he had been in love with most of his life, his body pressed down against her naked one with her legs spread open for him as he already looked with greed as to what sat waiting between them.

You had done things together, or, Jon had led you through those new experiences with him. Both each others firsts for everything as of now, and Jon wanted this final thing to be his too, but he would ease you into it with what you both already knew what to do.

Lifting his hips slightly, he did not allow you to wonder what to do. Jon let his hand leave your hair, trailing itself down your cheek, trace over the gentle skin on your neck and feel you shiver until his touch before going down your sides. He pulled away from your lips only enough to hear you let out a shuddering exhale as his hand gently moved over your breast without fully touching all of you and then to your hips. Slowly did your leg come into his touch, his hand pulling your thigh up and up for you, his voice rasping deep down at you. “Come on, darling.”

Nodding against him, he could feel your lips almost brush against his he kept so close to your kiss again as he moved you. The position now perfect to let his hand sneak between your bodies, seeking your clit right away. He had to shush you gently, his dark eyes now looking down at your nervous self as you jumped at the touch. So worked up and so sensitive, Jon did not give you the chance to even get used to that alone. Moving in gentle ways, to work you up for only a few seconds, your body tensing up in that way he loved knowing you were adjusting to the pleasure before he pressed down firmer and tighter.

One pattern, then the next, Jon knew fairly well what you liked but he still tended to experiment on you with his exploration. Too did it tease you, which he enjoyed very much. You not knowing what he was going to do next, and not having the sexual appetite and understanding quite the same as a man to even be able to guess what it was he would do next. Instead, you trusted him in a silence biting against your lip, eyes squeezed shut as if that made the overwhelming pressure in your core go away.

Not until he felt you let go, that orgasm wash over you in a sudden rush did Jon ease up. His kiss, touch, all of it. Pulling back enough, Jon looked down at you. Trying to catch your breath, only peeking down enough to see your chest heaving for air as you did so like he was not the one who caused this feeling within you before looking back up to your eyes. Moving from your clit, Jon instantly picked himself up off of you for a bit, running his hand over your hair smoothing it down at the back of your hair as he murmured your name. Once, then twice before you blinked back into the world. “Are you-”

Not allowing him to finish, you nodded. Swallowing deeply, you nodded a second time but now with words attached to hopefully fill him with a confidence that you were not just saying what he thought you wanted him to hear for the best. “I am, I promise.”

Jons eyes narrowed down at you, concern still being able to peek through the growing black in him shining that beautiful grey you always boasted about towards him. “Are you sure? We don’t have to keep going.” You only repeated that you were fine, only for Jon to call your name with a bit of a warning not to lie, and you promised again, only repeating the same few phrases over and over to alleviate that worry in the mans heart compared to the beasts want. Looking you over, he could not detect any lies, at least at the moment. He could only prey to the gods that if you were not ready or became unwilling to continue, that he would pick it up before going too far knowing that you would struggle immensely to speak up for yourself in this regard. It was all up to Jons responsibility, and he did not take that lightly.

Slowly did he begin to move. Pulling himself up to his knees, his hands went to the laces of his breeches. Watching as you pushed yourself up, hands braced against the furs on the bed behind you as you watched his eyes instead of his hands as he undid each one. Loosening the material before he could easily drag it down his legs. For a moment Jon considered making you do it, he wanted you too. He wanted you to be comfortable enough to pull it all off of him but Jon knew he might have to make a concision here, that he was asking too much of a confidence in you which did not actually exist to follow through so brazenly.

Instead, Jon moved to get off the bed. A hand rushing out to sit on your cheek, his rasp now low and gentle. “Stay right there.” Nodding obediently, Jon held a groan back at the sight. How you gave it all up over to him without question.

His feet flat on the ground, Jon only watched you with dark eyes as he pulled it off. Once he would wonder what it was you’d think of the sight of him with no clothes on as he always knew you’d be full of nerves and worries about what he’d think of you, but something in Jon was long since willing to let it go for himself. He knew what he looked like and it would not chance this very moment, so he stood before you and let your eyes ever so slowly at their own pace look.

If he were a smug man, he might have felt a smirking pride at the fact that your eyes widened just the slightest once you reached his cock, but Jon had little comparison to other men and if he was impressive to you know, he didn’t care to know if he’d stay that way. Instead he simply took it for the moment, moving back into the bed and placing you onto your back, did Jon pull your legs apart.

Your back flat, Jon knelt above you upright as he hooked your thighs over his hips keeping you spread open for him in the perfect way. Still he could see the wetness between your legs and the orgasm he had just given you hopefully helped. Your chest heaved for air, but no words could be spoken to comfort you. Jon was about to be as new to this as you were, he had not the experience to tell you how this was going to go.

He could play it out in his mind, but reality was far different then his wonders and dreams. Already it was too different to even compare, so he would have to simply take this plunge and hope you understood that this was for you and him. For the both of you.

Giving yourself fully to each other in the deepest and most intimate of ways to forever bond together the love you’ve forged together in complete secret. Whatever the consequences may be, Jon was apparently willing to risk it. Ruining you, ruining him, ruining the life of the child which may come to be the moment he does this. Connecting with the girl he has been in love with his entire life seemed to be worth it, if just in his eyes. Jon could only hope you felt the same because he moved once more.

Leaning over you better, Jon gripped his cock. Eyes squeezing shut for a moment with a rough husking breath exhaling out as he brushed the tip of his cock along your wet walls. A tiny little cry left you, need and fear as he muttered your name and shushed you.

His lips found yours, waiting until that very moment he felt you ease up. He sensed you stopped clenching so hard that he wouldn’t be able to even get inside you before he finally moved. Told every worry he had to fuck off, and pushed inside of you for the first time. Warm, and wet and tight and every pleasure he imagined it would be and better.

And the moment you called his name, did Jon snap back to the reality he could no longer deny.

He was moving in the real present, his breeches still on and nothing had yet changed from when he told you he didn’t want to stop before kissing you again. But it played out on his true bed with the real you in a way that he knew was the way his father raised him to treat women just like you.

Just as Jon's hand trailed up your thigh enough he could feel the heat between your legs, it was a blessing in disguise when you pulled from his lips almost in a jolting panic. Stammering with wide eyes when Jon sat up, you clearly started to panic. “I- I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..”

Brows furrowing, Jon gently ran hands along your hair at the back of your head cupping you gently to stay in place. “Don't be sorry, it's alright.” You shook your head trying to deny that, but Jon leaned in more gentle in his gaze and softness. “Look at me,” Finding his gaze, he could see the slight bit of nerves tinged with the fear of the unknown. “We don't have to to this. We can stop right here.”

You looked away frustrated, no doubt at yourself. “I'm sorry..” Jon went to tell you again to stop apologizing but you continued, clearly trying not to let your eyes water at how much was running through your head. “It's not you or anything..I...” Sighing out you looked back up at him, Jon letting his thumb run along your cheek. “I don't know if I'm ready..for..this part..”

He didn't say it, but in truth, Jon was relived. He couldn't do this with you, when all he was worried about was ruining everything your life could be by getting you pregnant. You and what children you had shouldn't start here, with a bastard. No matter how in love with you he was, how much he always will be.

Murmuring your name, he leaned in no run his nose along yours. “Do you want to know something?” You nodded, as your hands gently ran through his curls almost soothingly. “I don't think I'm ready either.”

It was strange to laugh at that, but you did, and so did Jon. Laughing gently into the other before he pulled you in for a much more innocent, but eager kiss. “We are a mess, aren't we?” Jon laughed a lot more freely at that, his heart growing in his chest at the giggle on your own lips before he captured the sound with a kiss. Running a hand again along your hair, you moved yours at the same time to shift the both of you.

After a little moving, Jon had you laying mostly on your side as he did facing you, his hand running now freely but without greedy intention along your bare side. Your own hands sat at his chest and collarbones, sharing just an innocent kiss for the way you both looked. Your voice was quiet, but a lot less nervous as the minutes passed between you. “You don't have to, but I was wondering..I want to wait for you..and was hoping maybe you would wait for me too?”

Jon just grinned. “I'm not here to rush you, darling. I'll always wait for you.”

You'd both have to get up eventually, but for now, Jon pulled you into his chest. Keeping your bare frame tucked into his warmth. If only for a little while, you both could spare a nap at least. Wrapped up in the others touch and safety.

As Jon kept your head tucked into his chest, he buried his face happily in your hair. Thinking to himself, that he's never wanted anything as much as he wants to just be with you.

He would take all the time in the world to wait until you both were ready, there wasn't and couldn't be a single soul in the world Jon would ever want to give himself too other then you. You were the woman he loved, you were his heart, something that made his lonely, miserable life worth it. Jon was utterly in love with you, and as long as you both had that together?

The rest would come easy, in time.

[queenvhagar]

"Aegon, the Unlikely, they called him, born the fourth son of a fourth son. Aemon knew, and rightly, that if he remained at court those who disliked his brother's rule would seek to use him, so he came to the Wall" (Jeor Mormont, the Old Bear, to Jon Snow, p. 105, A Clash of Kings).

The second ASOIAF books clearly established that alternative claimants to the throne can and would be used by dissidents to rebel against the current leader, and this would be especially true in the case of an atypical claimant (like that of Aegon the Unlikely, who became king despite being a fourth son).

Rhaenyra's claim was also atypical. Despite the Great Council of 101 AC giving her own father the throne over a woman claimant and reaffirming male primogeniture as the choice of the lords of the realm, she was the named heir by her father. She remained heir even when her father then had three trueborn sons (and another daughter) after her. Added to this atypical claim are her political scandals: being sighted in a brothel with her uncle Daemon in her younger years, having three obvious illegitimate children that she tried to gaslight everyone into thinking are trueborn and pushing for them to inherit multiple seats of power to which they had no real claim, and marrying Daemon immediately after her husband's death (despite the desire to distance Daemon from the throne being a primary factor in her being named as heir in the first place).

Because of her atypical claim and the existence of alternative claimants, naturally anyone who disliked any aspect of Rhaenyra's rule (because she was a woman, because she had bastards, because she married Daemon, or any other reason) would use her brothers as a symbol of their rebellion and fight for them to sit the throne instead of her.

Whether or not she would have wanted it, Rhaenyra would have to deal with the alternative claimants in order to secure her rule. All of her brothers and their children would have to either die or be exiled to remove their claims to the throne. Otherwise, her claim could be contested and there could be war. Even if Rhaenyra did not realize this, Daemon did, and given his past actions of violence to further his own position, it does not seem out of the realm of possibility that he would act on this. He would have to in order to secure his and his family's power.

Anyone who claims that the Green children were not in danger and that they were not seeking the throne in part to protect themselves is ignorant of the world in which this story takes place and of the real-world history of feudalism and monarchy upon which this story is based.

[myocsfanfictions]

The Wolf, the Stag and the Snake (Book 1)

MASTERLIST

This fanfiction is about three girls who lives in Westeros and how their lives changed when the War began. Follow Antea Stark, Cassandra Baratheon and Cyel Sand in their adventures. There is more you have just to wait and see. This fanfiction follows only the books.

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Chapter 29

𝓒𝓪𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓻𝓪

It had been days since that night, and Cassie had been ordered to stay in the tower of Maester Aemon to be sure that nothing else as strange as what had happened with her powers happened again.

Being in the tower was boring, and being forced to bed was even worse. She needed to take some fresh air and train even just for few hours. 

When she had been brought to the Maester, her head felt so heavy and she felt pain even keeping her eyes open. She had no idea of what had happened to her. Cassandra had been using her powers for years, never her head had hurt in that way, never she had seen all that cold and dark. 

The Maester was still looking for a cause, with the help of Sam and Kyuna, that for a woman of the Iron Island was born with sharp intelligence, but they still had no answer. Like they had no answer of what happened to Othor.

Rose and Wylly frequently came to take her company and share some words, she knew they were worried and she was sharing the same feeling, but luckily her body was fine, as well as her head.

Sam was the person she was seeing most, but he was a nice companinon to have. He took care of her and read to her sometimes. Very different from when the boys came to the chamber. 

The first time that happened, she had been so surprised; Pyp, Grenn, Dareon, all of them had acted so worried for her well being. They asked her how she was feeling, what had happened, if there were side effect after what happened. She had been so overwhelmed that she hadn’t been able to answer properly.

And then there was Jon. He had hurt one of his hands badly; the Maester said those burnt would surely leave scars on his skin. He was being very brave, facing pain and he went to her everyday, at the end of their duties. She hoped he was feeling better, even if she knew that what worried him the most was his father.

Knowing that, Cassie had written to her mother, asking for explenations. She demanded to know what evidence they had of Ned’s treason, or her uncles’. She asked why the heritage of Joffrey was put under question and she asked what had happened to Sansa and Arya. But nothing...

No one answered. No raven came. Not for her. But for the Maester. That morning arrived a raven from Maester Pycelle announcing that Ser Barristan the Bold had been remouved from the Kingsguard, and his place had been taken by  Sandor Clegane. 

What in the Seven Hells was going on in King’s Landing?

The more ravens arrived, the more grew inside of her chest a strange feeling of uneasiness thinking about Joffrey as a King and her mother behind him.

“You are so quiet, Cassandra” the voice of the Maester made her turn.

“It didn’t occure me that we ever spoke that much” she answered simply observing the man.

“What is troubling your mind?” the old man asked with his low voice.

Cassandra took a deep breath “The world is crazy, Maester.” 

“And what can you do about that?” he asked making her frown “Is that your place to do something?” Cassandra observed him for some moment before answering.

“You’re a Targaryen, Maester” she said “You know the feeling of having a family that is making foolish decisions.”

“A Baratheon comparing herself to Targaryens” that made Cassandra glare at him.

“A Baratheon, comparing Targaryens to Lannisters” she corrected him “My brother has nothing of Baratheons, he took everything from my mother side. Even the foolishness.” 

“You are a Keeper of Light, before a Baratheon and I’m a man of the Night’s Watch, before a Targaryen.” he said “Do not think too much of things you cannot change. You only being a princess, maybe you could have done something, but that is not your position. That is not your place.”

Cassie looked down, taking a breath. She never felt more useless in her entire life. That was the truth that she would have never spoken out loud.

“Is your mind bothered by Jon Snow’s well being?” at the Maester’s question, she looked up with wide eyes.

“I own Eddard Stark and his family many things” she said “I’d like to help.” that had nothing to do with Jon Snow.

The old man nodded his head “Such deep bond you share” he said as she frowned.

By the Gods, that man was too old to keep on to his duties. He was starting talking none sense. Cassie took a breath, finally realizing that that was her last day of confinentment in bad and that what she quickly said to the Maester. The man only took a breath, before letting her go, without sharing another word.

As she walked out in the yard, Cassie enjoyed the cool wind of the North against her skin, that moved her black hair. She had missed it.

“Princess!” Pyp’s voice made her look down towards the end of the stairs, where Jon’s friends and other girls were training.

“Such a good sight for this sore eyes” he said bowing and that stole a chuckle from her.

“The Gods keep mocking me” she said as she walked down “I’ve missed your nonesenses.” Pyp laughed as the boys did.

“It’s good to see you standing” Rose said putting an hand on her shoulder “Hydi was very worried.” she muttered, gesturing with her head where the little girl was standing.

Cassie took a breath “You can come here little girl.” 

As she spoke, Hydi started to ran until her arms were around Cassie’s waist. She didn’t say anything, like her usual, she just clinged at her. Cassie observed the girl for a moment, before giving a squize to her shoulder.

“The Mathriarch was worried” said Wylliana with a serious tone “Nothing of that sort has ever happened.” Cassie listen carefully, as Hydi let go of her.

“It was like he had no coscience.” Cassie explained what she had already told to the Mathriarch “There was nothing for me to take, but...”

“But?” asked Wylliana.

“It was like something could have taken me.” 

What happened had worried Cassie, the pain, the feeling of slipping away. She had never expirienced such thing, and she really didn’t want to face it again any sooner.

“Look at that!” Grenn laughed loud, looking towards the King’s Tower, where Jon Snow was walking out, with a longsword in hand.

“Well, come about, let’s have a look.” Pyp exclaimed.

“At what?” Jon said.

 “The sword,” Grenn stated. “We want to see the sword.”

Jon seemed surprised by their reaction “You knew.”

Cassie frowned as she turned to Rose, that was looking at the boys with fondness in her eyes.

“What is it all about?”

Rose smiled “The Lord Commander had commissioned the carve of the stone of the pommel, and the boys helped.”

“That sword belongs to the Mormont by generations” explained Wylly. Cassie observed Jon as he unsheath the sword that shined under the pale sunlight.

“My, my...” Cassie said walking closer to the boys, making Jon look in her direction. An happy light shining in his grey eyes. “Valyrian Steel, Jon Snow. Not a common blade.”

“He needed a great reward after having burned down the Lord Commander’s Tower.” Pyp exclaimed with a grin.

“How are you feeling?” Jon asked as he walked towards Cassie, that shrugged.

“I’m standing” she stated before cocking her head to the side with a smile “You saved my life, Jon Snow. I own you this one.”

[waitingforwinterwinds]

Game of Thrones - 52 JON VII (pages 533-548)

Sam shows his senior how to CSI properly, then Jon attacks Alliser after being provoked following news from King's Landing, and has to break out of his unlocked prison cell to fight a (small) zombie invasion.

The Reader, having just done mortal combat with an unkillable cockroach the size of a small mouse, knows that feels.

-

My uncle's men, Jon thought numbly. He remembered how he'd pleaded to ride with them. Gods, I was such a green boy. If he had taken me, it might be me lying here...

No might about it. It's good that you understand, but Jon? 'Was,' maybe get a winter on the Wall under your belt before you start calling yourself a seasoned man?

Last night, he had dreamt the Winterfelldream again. He was wandering the empty castle, searching for his father, descending into the crypts. Only this time the dream had gone further than before. In the dark he'd heard the scrape of stone on stone. When he turned he saw that the vaults were opening, one after the other. As the dead kings came stumbling from their cold black graves, Jon had woken in pitch dark, his heart hammering.

"force vision or inner turmoil" = 🥛

... wait... Is that really how you spell dreamt? I thought it was spelled 'dreampt'? hang on a tic. ... 'dreamed or dreamt-' blah blah blah... oh here we go: 'dreampt is an example of a phonetic intrusion that has fallen out of use but can be found in Shakespeare' Huh, cool beans. So the correct spelling is dreamt, but because of how mouths work, the p just kind of invites itself along sometimes in audio.

"I can't look," he whispered miserably. "You have to look," Jon told him, keeping his voice low so the others would not hear. "Maester Aemon sent you to be his eyes, didn't he? What good are eyes if they're shut?" "Yes, but... I'm a coward, Jon." Jon put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "We have a dozen rangers with us, and the dogs, even Ghost. No one will hurt you, Sam. Go ahead and look. The first look is the hardest."

I love how gentle and compassionate Jon is being with Sam. It's one thing to say "I know my friend's flaws, and I accommodate them," but it's another to actually care to do that. He could have tried to subtly bully Sam into it, but he's taking the time and effort to give Sam support, and making sure to keep it private to limit an external embarrassment. I especially appreciate it after his last chapter. Growth is not always linear in one direction.

Squatting by the dead man he had named Jafer Flowers, Ser Jaremy grasped his head by the scalp. The hair came out bewteen his fingers, brittle as straw. (...) A great gash in the side of the corpse's neck opened like a mouth, crusted with dried blood. (...) "This was done with an axe."

CSI: The Wall I like that they're actually taking the time to try and figure out what happened, instead of assuming it was wildings (though they do suspect that.) No offense Waymar Royce, it's just cooler when Ser Jaremy does it.

Yet his eyes were still open. They stared up at the sky, blue as sapphires.

And what colour were they before he left for the ranging? Cause buddy, I've heard somethings about corpses with blue eyes north of the Wall.

"-The corpses are still fresh, they can't have been dead more than a day..." "No," Samwell Tarly squeaked.

Ser Jaremy: I know how to do my job, what would you know? Jon: Hey, shut up Mormont: Yeah, shut up. Not You Sam you're a delight, tell us everything. Sam: *explains why these corpses are old and weird* Jon: Oh snap, he's right, these are super cursed.

"-They haven't been chewed or eaten by animals... only Ghost... otherwise they're... they're..." "Untouched," Jon said softly. "And Ghost is different. the dogs and the horses won't go near them."

So proud of Sam for speaking up because he knew he was right, even though he was so scared. So proud of Mormont for giving him the chance to speak.

"And might be I'm a fool, but I don't know that Othor never had no blue eyes afore." Ser Jaremy, looked startled. "Neither did Flowers, he blurted, turning to stare at the dead man.

OOOOooooohhhHHHH!!!!!!

"Burn them," someone whispered. On of the rangers; Jon could not have said who. "Yes, burn them," a second voice urged. The Old Bear gave a stubborn shake of his head. "Not yet. I want Maester Aemon to have a look at them. We'll bring them back to the Wall."

Poor Mormont, it's gotta be tough being the guy who would make a sensible decision that gets your whole team killed in a zombie apocalypse.

Obviously he doesn't actually get his whole team killed, and this isn't really a zombie apocalypse (except that it is), but this is a sensible decision that could prove very useful scientifically, if it doesn't all go terribly wrong. Which it will, because of zombie apocalypse rules, sorry buddy.

His guard was sprawled bonelessly across the narrow steps, looking up at him. Looking up at him, even though he was lying on his stomach. His head had been twisted completely around.

Oh Snap!

One thing I love about sprawling stories like this, is when one plot line is experiencing a completely different genre than the others. South of the Wall, and South Proper, it's all court dramas and political intrigue strung through with a few murder mysteries and (civil?) war, over East we've got a magical horse girl who's about to start a revolution, but with the Night's Watch we have Tower Defense Zombie Apocalypse!!!

When Jon opened his mouth to scream, the wight jammed its back corpse fingers into Jon's mouth. Gagging, he tried to shove it off, but the dead man was too heavy. Its hand forced itself farther down his throat, icy cold, choking him.

Oh, now that's interesting. And terrifying. But it makes it seem like the wight is trying to 'infect' Jon from the inside out. Realistically (I say of a magical zombie attack) it's probably just trying to kill him quietly by freezing shut his throat and gagging him at the same time, but the imagery is interesting. And disturbing in its phrasing of the assault in a very specific way.

I would also like to point out that "its back corpse fingers" is not my typo, that's how it appears in my copy of the book. Page 547. I am assuming it was meant to be "It's black corpse fingers" because earlier the narrative made a point of us knowing the corpses' hands were black. (I've likely made plenty of other typos during this daily live blog, but that was not one of them.)

The direwolf wrenched free and came to him as the wight struggled to rise, dark snakes spilling from the great wound in its belly. Jon plunged his hand into the flames, grabbed a fistful of burning drapes, and whipped them at the dead man. Let it burn, he prayed as the cloth smothered the corpse, gods, please, please, let it burn.

Excuse me a minute.

AAAAAAAAAA. YAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSS KILL IT WITH FIRE!!!!!!!!!1

Ahem, where was I?

Good, quick thingking from Jon, excellent tag team from Ghost, amazing adaptability from them both. Poor Mormont has no clue what the hell just happened, though.

[amethysttribble]

WIP Sampler

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Then you can send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you and interests you and I’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it!

Thank you @elesianne so much for tagging me!! I’m going to divide it up by fandom so people can actually know what interests them.

Tolkien

1) No One’s Son, Brother, King

2) Spirit of Flowers, Son of Fire

3) Turkafinwë

4) Ravennië Has a Life

5) HP!Silm AU

Everlasting Song

1) Oberyn Prologue

2) Jon and Aemon’s Chat

Three Houses

1) The Fourth, The Fifth

2) The Lost Generation

3) Quick, Child! Be Honest Before the Dawn

I don’t have a WIP folder, I have a ‘Has Merit’ folder. Which probably says something about me and how I perceive my work :p. Ask about any of them of you want! I’d love to talk about them (tho the Everlasting Song stuff is spoilers and I’d have to be vague)

Oh goodness, I don’t know who’s been tagged already. Please ignore if you already have been or if you just don’t want to do this. Tagging: @aipilosse, @thishour, @theladyhaleth, @faerghusfour

[bethgreenesgf-archive]

Prince Aemon (…) had been inseparable from Naerys. AWOIAF, p. 96

He would give anything to be with her now. AGOT, Jon III

[disneyprincessbuffyannesummers]

ABc’s of Jonsa (this is bad, very bad I’m sorry this is bad)

A is for; Alysanne & Jaehaerys

B is for; ‘i’m a bastard, just like him,’

C is for; children; She pictured the two of them sitting together in a garden with puppies in their laps, or listening to a singer strum upon a lute while they floated down the Mander on a pleasure barge. If I give him sons, he may come to love me. She would name them Eddard and Brandon and Rickon, and raise them all to be as valiant as Ser Loras. And to hate Lannisters, too. In Sansa's dreams, her children looked just like the brothers she had lost. Sometimes there was even a girl who looked like Arya. I would need to steal her if I wanted her love, but she might give me children. I might someday hold a son of my own blood in my arms. A son was something Jon Snow had never dared dream of, since he decided to live his life on the Wall. I could name him Robb. Val would want to keep her sister’s son, but we could foster him at Winterfell, and Gilly’s boy as well. Sam would never need to tell his lie. We'd find a place for Gilly too, and Sam could come visit her once a year or so. Mance’s son and Craster’s would grow up brothers, as I once did with Robb.

D is for; ‘i prince aemon the dragonknight,’

‘I love him, Father, I truly truly do, I love him as much as Queen Naerys loved Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, as much as Jonquil loved Ser Florian. I want to be his queen and have his babies,’

E is for; ‘You have your mother's eyes. Honest eyes, and innocent. Blue as a sunlit sea. When you are a little older, many a man will drown in those eyes,’

I will fall into those eyes and drown.

F is for; A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness.

G is for; 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.

H is for; ‘i want to go home,’ ‘i wish jon were here,’

I is for; ‘touch my sister, and i’ll kill you myself,’

J is for; She had always imagined the Night's Watch to be men like Uncle Benjen. In the songs, they were called the black knights of the Wall. But this man had been crookbacked and hideous, and he looked as though he might have lice. If this was what the Night’s Watch was truly like, she felt sorry for her bastard half brother, Jon

K is for; ‘the only reason i’m not killing you, is what you did for her,’

L is for; ‘of sansa, brushing out lady’s coat, singing ‘you know nothin’ jon snow,’

M is for; It sounds like a wolf, thought Sansa. A ghost wolf, big as mountains.

N is for; Naerys and Aemon

O is for; ‘Tell me, Jon, if the day should ever come when your lord father must needs choose between honor on the one hand and those he loves on the other, what would he do?’

P is for; Sansa sighed as she stitched. ‘Poor Jon,’ she said. ‘He gets jealous because he’s a bastard,’

Q is for; ‘I love him, Father, I truly truly do, I love him as much as Queen Naerys loved Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, as much as Jonquil loved Ser Florian. I want to be his queen and have his babies,’

R is for; Sansa looked radiant.

S is for; ‘Will you make a song for him?’ the woman asked.

‘He has a song,’ the man replied. ‘He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire,’ He looked up when he said it and his eyes met Dany's, and it seemed as if he saw her standing there beyond the door.

‘There must be one more,’ he said, though whether he was speaking to her or the woman in the bed she could not say. ‘The dragon has three heads,’ He went to the window seat, picked up a harp, and ran his fingers lightly over its silvery strings. Sweet sadness filled the room as man and wife and babe faded like the morning mist, only the music lingering behind to speed her on her way.

T is for; warrior princess, he decided, not some willowy creature who sits up in a tower, brushing her hair and waiting for some knight to rescue her.

U is for; ‘duty is the death of honour,’

V is for; He jabbed a finger up at Jon's face. ‘And don't think this means I approve of that nonsense in the common hall. Valor makes up for a fair amount of folly, but you’re not a boy anymore, however many years you’ve seen. That's a man's sword you have there, and it will take a man to wield her. I'll expect you to act the part, henceforth,’

W is for; The words were knives. What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister?

Y is for; ‘Sweet one,’ her father said gently, ‘listen to me. When you’re old enough, I will make you a match with a high lord who’s worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong. This match with Joffrey was a terrible mistake. That boy is no Prince Aemon, you must believe me,’

Z is for; Ice Zombies

Feel free to ask me why I choose each quote or whatever.

[mariposas-sobre-mi]

Tyrion: Sé que la amas. Yo la amo también. No tan... exitosamente como tú. Pero yo creía en ella con todo mi ser. El amor es más poderoso que la razón. Todos lo sabemos. Mira a mi hermano. Jon: "El amor es la muerte del deber." Tyrion: A ti se te ocurrió? Jon: El maestre Aemon me lo dijo hace tiempo. Tyrion: A veces el deber es la muerte del amor. Cersei siempre tuvo razón. "El amor es veneno. Un veneno dulce, sí, pero un veneno que mata." (en King's Landing, Westeros) https://www.instagram.com/p/BxrQAnPFy1DnZ5OaKgNzrUI4erocC46L0tjaqE0/?igshid=1j36i2cc8oj8

[stormborns]

GAME OF THRONES 1.09, Baelor

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

The Lost Chapters of Jon Snow

Pairings: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (Slow Burn), Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 15.5k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, character deaths, graphic descriptions of blood and violence, rape, forced sex acts, abusive/forced relationship, sex under threat of death, male victim of female sexual violence, suicidal ideation, visions of smut & visions of p in v (between Reader and Robb)

Notes: Did you ever wonder what Jons story looked like during the chapters he was not a main character? These are snapshots into how the events of Heart of the Great Wolf effected Jon, that we did not previously get to see in this story. Series Masterlist Here

“Being me a horn of ale, Snow. And pour one for yourself.”

Jon should have known right away that something bad had happened, but in no way did he understand what the world looked like down South enough to guess. Night hadn't even properly hit and already one thing after another piled on top of each other, what was one more thing to add to it, he thought.

He and Sam had said their vows. Brothers of the Nights Watch they were, and yet to start off, from the woods beyond Ghost came trotting out with a human hand in his mouth. They had all went to seek where he found it and two rangers laid dead not far away from the Weirwood beyond the wall. Yarwick had quickly identified them, Othor and Jafar Flowers but with no hint of where his Uncle Benjen may have been, it felt less morose in Jons chest then it did unsettling. If his uncle was simply gone, then why were two of his company back here all alone?

There had to be more to it he thought, and maybe there was. Sam had mentioned that there was no smell to the bodies at all, and at this point there should have been. Lord Commander Mormont's attention had been called over a raven from Kings Landing, and so he made his way to his office, ordering the rest of them to help move the bodies so Maester Aemon could examine them. All Jon thought as he walked into his office, was of his uncle. He didn't at all realize, it was the wrong family member which was to be his newest fear.

Jon was hesitant as he poured, and he could sense the Old Bear was choosing his slow spoken words to him very carefully, sitting at his desk going over what news the raven had brought. “The King is dead.”

Pausing in his movements, far too much to choose one thought, passed through Jons mind. The air in the room felt thick, and he knew that the conversation was not about to end with that as the worst of it. Not quite turning to him, he had no idea if the words came off as calm as he was attempting to sound. “Is there any word of my father?”

Moving to place the ale on his desk, Jon was told to sit. Already he felt sick, he'd rather not sit he'd rather just be told what happened here and now with no lead up. Get it out of the way and maybe Jon could stop the nerve wracking pounding of his heart. Eyes wide, he did as he was told but what came out of the Old Bear's mouth was not at all what he was bracing himself for. “Lord Stark has been charged with treason.”

If that sentence did not make sense to Jon, the next one made even less.

“They say he conspired with Roberts niece- your brothers wife, to deny the throne from Prince Joffery. They both have been arrested as traitors to the realm.”

On instinct, Jon held his hand out. Needing to read the words himself but still it made no sense in his head every attempt. His father wasn't a man who did things like that, his father was the most honourable man Jon's ever known. If a mistake hadn't been made, then something else very wrong had led to this, he knew it.

The only so called treason his father ever committed was rebelling against injustice done to his own family over twenty years ago, but you? You were smart. A good girl. Someone who, insult or honour, always did what you were told. Not a conspirerer in a game of kings. He read the words again and again, and for some strange reason he recalled something the other day.

He thought of you often, he dreamt of you often, but only days ago Jon could recall having a strange image in his head of you somewhere he's never seen next to his father and he had done what he did any other time he imagined such a thing. Threw it away in his mind of simply a yearning to see again the girl he never would.

Not a clue where he was even moving towards, Jon stood up. Making his way to the door he could suddenly see all of them. Leaving on the Kingsroad and the realization that if his father and you were being charged as traitors, what about-

“I hope your not thinking of doing anything stupid. Your duty lies here now.” Stopping mid step, Jon didn't really look back at him. No, not stupid, necessary, but what was that? All Jon knew, was he had to get out of this room. He had to do something, he couldn't stand by and let this all just happen.

His voice was weak, and he knew it was a plea the Lord Commander would not accept but Jon had to say it anyways. Someone had to be thinking of them. “My sisters were in Kings Landing too.” And he was right, it wasn't anything the man accepted. He just told Jon, he was sure they'd be treated gently.

Jon couldn't stop that feeling of anger as he walked about Castle Black. His duty lay here, but if his father and you were rotting in a dungeon, who was now doing the duty of protecting his sisters? Arya and Sansa were just girls, young and naive in their own ways and the gentle they'd be treated with didn't feel like it was going to be the same definition Jon would have of it. It was Joffery and the Queen, who was there to stand in between them and his little sisters if there was no one left there to do it, or care?

What was the point of honour, if it meant Jon had to choose what honour was supposed to mean more over the other?

It didn't get better as time passed. People were awkward around him, people whispered and either looked at him strangely or avoided his eye entirely. He didn't want to think about what they were saying, Jon didn't have time for it. Or the patience.

Standing in the kitchens, he was distracted. Quieter then normal and looking nowhere but where the knife in front of him was cutting and the sights in his head he was being told to abandon the idea of protecting. Giving Arya a sword didn't mean Jon trusted her to be safe with it. She was young, short, small, and too quick and snarky for her own good and even if she knew how to use it, that wouldn't protect her against the power of a crown calling her father a traitor.

The last time he saw her, the way as they always had for years, she jumped high into his arms for a hug and nowhere in that city would a girl barley eleven years old find herself safe enough for long enough for- for what? For him to go get her?

For Jon to leave the Nights Watch and find his sisters? If Arya wasn't safe with a sword, Sansa was even less safe without one. She didn't understand violence, she wouldn't have anything or anyone to protect her without their father, but again, what was Jon supposed to do? Hope his little sisters assumed Jon just didn't know the danger they were now in? Did they believe the treason the crown claimed you and their father had done?

Would Arya and Sansa hate him more or less, if they realized Jon knew they weren't safe there, but had to stand here and choose not to do anything about it? His family weren't traitors, his father wasn't a traitor and neither were you. But Jon could only stand there, and feel that helplessness grow into anger at being told to do nothing for the people he loved.

At least, do nothing actually productive. But he sure did something with that anger, only it helped no one, including himself. The second Jon heard Ser Alliser's voice his muscles tensed, trying not to look or focus but he spoke right at him, walking right up beside him. “Now there's a rare sight. Not only a bastard, but a traitors bastard.”

The worst of it all, was that Jon knew it might have been less of an offence if he reacted right away.

Ten, twenty, maybe thirty seconds had passed. Sam, Pyp and Grenn all taking their turns glancing over to Jon as he stood there in complete silence. His eyes looked up to Ser Alliser, who condescendingly nodded for him to go back to work, to stand there and let the man insult his father.

Too bad for both, his father meant more to Jon then not reacting to that look in Ser Alliser's eyes. In a second, Jon flipped his grip on the knife and felt not a shred of regret going for him. Anger and red hot rage flowing through his blood, but he'd rather see it pour out of wherever he stabbed the man then let it fester silently inside his own mind. Instantly, his brothers reacted.

He could hear Sam and Grenn yelling, “Jon, stop put it down-” Right as he came close, Pyp moved to haul Jon away as Grenn tore the knife from his hand. Every part of him felt as if it was screaming to let him finish the job and damn the consequences, but the three of them knew Jon better then to let it happen.

Leaning angrily into his person, Ser Alliser all but hissed at him. “Blood will always tell. You'll hang for this, bastard.”

Jon couldn't do anything to help his father, couldn't do anything to help you, and couldn't do anything to help his sisters, and now he wasn't even allowed to be angry over it. The Old Bear didn't hang him, but it was clear to Jon as he was confined to quarters, that he had more coming his way. More then just that night, setting an already dead man on fire.

It was days later the next news of a raven came. Funny thing it was, how it was almost a skill the degree to which Jon could go from such an easy mood to something intense and far too angry raging deep in his bones. Sitting next to Sam, he was trying to pry out what it was he claimed he couldn't. “I'm really not supposed to say.”

Tilting his head in amusement, Jon prodded him a little more in jest. “And yet, you really want to say. You want to say that..” Leaving the air open for Sam to pluck up the courage and spit it out already, but just as days before, Jon almost wished he never heard it.

“There was a raven. I read the message to Maester Aemon.”

By the weary look in Sams eye, Jon expected it to be more of his father. But, it was somehow even more conflicting for Jons resolve. It was about Robb. Robb and you. “Someone helped her escape Kings Landing in the middle of the night, a Kingsgaurd. She's reunited with your brother, they're heading South together. To war.”

Every lack of luck in Jons life, the only thing he's heard of you in months, and twice now in days both things left him torn of too much. On paper, he should be happy you escaped. But it wasn't your freedom which left Jon's blood chilling inside him. It was his lack of freedom now. You had fled and joined Robb, going to war with him even beacuse if it wasn't duty you did, it was always trying to do what was right and now Jon had to sit there and do the opposite.

Robb was heading South declaring war on the Lannisters with you at his side, and Jon only had one breathless thought as his eyes drifted to nothing at the surmounting pile of useless he felt. “I should be there. I should be with them. Both of them.”

Jon had imagined you in his head more time then he could count since being at the wall, but it wasn't until he sat there in the hall with Sam, did he realize. Maybe he wasn't imagining you. Jon should be there, with Robb, but maybe, something was forcing Jon with you. It was too detailed, too unknown, an image he had not the creativity to pretend was his imaginations capability. He should be there with Robb, but it wasn't until that day did Jon finally come to understand, something in his mind, was keeping him with you.

Both in armour as you stood in an unknown land next to Robb. His silver and heavy, yours thinner and black almost something like scales as it sat lighter on your person. A shattering of nerves left just a distant heaviness in both your eyes as across was blood on yours and Robbs person, all he could see was Robb twisting his arm to hold at your wrist, and you returned the gesture right back, before the vision was gone. If you and his brother left for war, Jon started to wonder if he was watching it.

Guilt, anger, and confused shame all swirling in his mind, but maybe if he had one thing to hold onto, it was that just perhaps the gods had granted Jon one grace. If there was one hope he clung onto as everything told him to abandon this duty and go to his family, it was that you were not gone from his life entirely.

If Jon was seeing you standing beside Robb at war, he couldn't help but wonder, how much more of you would he finally be allowed to see again. He felt angry and useless here, but if he was seeing visions of you, it might be of some comfort.

Were anyone to hear Jon say what was happening in his head, they'd think him out of his mind no doubt. It was cold beyond the wall, and too easily someone could argue that the cold can mess with the head a little bit. Not even Sam would believe him if he said what was really happening.

There was not a shred of doubt anymore to Jon however. He knew he was seeing you. For a solid fact, Jon knew he was seeing you. First it was dreams, then in waking days he thought he was making things up because he missed you but it was impossible to deny now. He saw things of you that came true, and he continued to see things of you that were happening along the same war path he was not following.

Robb was King in the North now, which meant you stood beside him as his Queen, and Jon desperately wished it was that which he was seeing. Show him his brother growing into a leader, or your rule together, but don't show him this. It wasn't battle and strategy Jon saw. No, Jon would see, hear, and sometimes, somehow, feel only the moments of quiet he never got to.

What Jon had with you, before you had Robb, was minimal in the grand scheme of things. He knew a bit of what being with you felt like. He knew in great detail what your kiss was like, he knew what a truly beautiful sight your bare body looked like, and he knew some bits of how you felt against him. It was supposed to be enough, he'd lay awake at night at the wall and those small parts of you were his only comfort.

Eyes shut in the dark of his quarters, and he could just barley feel your soft skin under his hands or hear your gentle, high pitched sigh in his ears and Jon would fall asleep just a little easier. He would never have you the way he wanted to, the way Robb had you now, but what Jon did have was supposed to be enough.

But then he'd see you, hear you. Not just you, not just alone or in memory.

As he sat close to the ground, back up against a tree, Jon almost dropped his sword as soon as he heard it, and he nearly cut himself by accident as soon as he felt it. Your high pitched sigh in his ear as your breathe trailed along his neck like a phantom. If he closed his eyes, maybe he could feel you actually pressing your lips there. But if he closed them, he may stop seeing it. And Jon couldn't tell if he wanted to stop seeing you like this quite yet. No matter how awful it made him feel.

It was in front of his eyes as much as the crowded yards of Crasters Keep was. He could see both, and hear both. But it was not himself in a memory of you he watched. It was Robb. Robb taking you, the way Jon dreamt of being able to do with you for years.

The room you were in, some war tent no doubt fitted just enough to be fair of a King and Queen, but without the pomp he imagined many others might have wanted. In terms of luxury, Robb was as humble as you were and it made Jon swallow harshly at how easily you matched his brother. Once, he thought it was himself you were made for, but now he wasn't so sure. Robb touched you easier then Jon ever did even after six years.

You were gorgeous this way, eyes barley keeping open and your mouth parting with breathless begs and pleads, but it burned Jon everytime it was “Robb” he would hear you sing. At the mercy of his brothers touch, you moved just the way he wanted and never protested how thrown around he'd toss you about.

Watching as if before him, Jon could see the way you were moulded perfectly to Robbs demand, and Jon, aggravatingly, almost could feel as if he was the one inside you. His brother had you on your hands and knees, your back arching into each thrust as you barley gasped for air before Robb took it away again. It was rough, the way his brother fucked you, but gods help him, Jon could tell you took Robbs cock as if you were born for it.

Barley a word you'd mutter out, just begs for more, begs for Robb to do whatever he wanted, and promises that you'd be good for him as you cried into the air. So perfect it sent shivers down Jons spine more then any winter winds out here. None knew, none could hear, not your cries nor Jons thoughts but you were so effortlessly loud without being obnoxious.

Just the sounds that couldn't be contained, but he would've. Forced to sit there, eyes dark and narrowed, Jon watched and knew he would've by now, flipped you onto your back. Covered you with his body, pressing you into the sheets and stolen every last breathe with his lips. Kiss you so only he could feel your cries and none would hear it.

Robb would mutter filth at you then groan and Jon somehow knew you were clenching around him so tightly, but he couldn't help the wonder on his own as he watched. Jon wouldn't talk to you that way, and clearly you couldn't get enough when Robb did, but Jon would make up for it. He'd slow down, take you so every inch dragged along your sensitive walls and pull your needy cries that way instead of seducing them with words.

You reached a hand back, and Robb pulled you up. Knelt upright on the bed, your back against his chest as he fucked up into you, and muttered low in your ear as you begged for him to finish inside you. And you were perfect for it, beautiful for it. Jon would never get the chance, but every insecurity left his head as he watched you in his own wide eyed silence.

You begged for his brother, begged for Robb to spill inside of you, but Jon wished it was him. He'd keep your lips pressed to his, you'd barley be able to beg, beacuse he'd spill inside of you before you could go too long without it.

So, imagine the true cruelty, as the image before Jon shattered out of nowhere. Left back in only the cold of Crasters Keep and you were gone. He was used to it by now, he supposed. Without much due, Jon picked Longclaw back up, and returned to properly taking care of it. He saw you enough that he could go about his business and none would know what he watched. But too often, Jon knew it was such an intimacy he never had that he was being forced to witness you have with Robb.

It didn't make it much better, when minutes later Sam came walking up to him with one of Crasters wives standing wide eyed next to him. “What are you doing?”

“This is Gilly. She's one of Crasters..daughters.” The fact that both terms were used interchangeably was vile, but it wasn't the girls faults for that. It was however, Sams fault that he spoke to one of them in the first place, when they definitely weren't supposed too.

With a bit of a shortness he glanced to her, “Hello Gilly.” Eyes flying back to Sam with the same quiet, even tone on his words to allow him to explain himself before Jon lost it. “What are you doing?”

The girl, Gilly, tried to implore to him first. Saying that Sam had told her Jon could help, and he couldn't fathom what in the world Sam had gotten himself into now. Trying to shoot it down, that they weren't even supposed to talk to any of Crasters daughters, Sam interjected. “She's pregnant.”

Oh, Jon was going to throw Sam head first into the snow. Slowly letting Longclaw fall into his lap, he turned his head up to look at him in disbeleif. Talking to one of these girls was one thing, but Sam managed to find one to talk to that just so happened to already- gods help him, Jon already didn't like the feeling he got around Craster and this was not making it any better.

Quietly, Sam managed to get to the point. A point Jon would've rather been anything else but what it was. “We have to take her with us when we leave.”

“What?” All but slamming Longclaw down onto the snow, Jon stood stepping towards Sam as he tried to keep his voice from all but yelling at him. Saying he knows the idea sounded mad, Jon felt as if he was losing his mind. “No, it doesn't sound mad. It's impossible.” The two of them arguing back and forth, as this was the last thing Jon wanted to deal with at that moment.

Gilly interrupting with a more gentle approach then either of the two men before her, “Please Ser, please. I can still run if I have too.”

That did not make Jon feel any better for arguing against it, knowing she seemed desperate for someone to help but she and Sam were asking for something that had no solution from him. His tone quieter, trying to be fair to the girl and staying calm as he looked to her. “It's just not possible.”

Jon couldn't change his mind, but she certainly implanted something there which he suspected she didn't actually mean to do. “I'm going to have a baby, if it's a boy-” Before cutting herself off, mouth agape as she realized how close to a mistake she got.

But Jon wouldn't let that one go. It was one of his first thoughts as they got here. Craster had countless daughters, but not a sign of a son anywhere. No boys were in Crasters Keep which were not men of the Nights Watch. His eyes darker as he looked to her, something less kind and sliding into more demanding as he asked, “If it's a boy, what?” But she wouldn't say. Opening and closing her mouth before choosing the answer of silence, Jon inhaled deeply. Turning to properly look her in the eye, he felt his patience wearing thin over this. “You want us to risk our lives for you, and you won't even tell us why.”

Either shock, or upset, or disbeleif, maybe even a bit of fear Gilly looked between them as she ran off without another word. Sam beside him now louder and much more indignant then he was trying to be in front of the girl, all but scolded him. “Why do you do that?”

Turning his head to look back at him, Jon was back to wanting to shove Sams head in a snow bank as the irritation rose once more. “Do what? Ask her a question?” Sam tried to argue that he was cruel, and that time Jon let his voice raise more to a shout. “Cruel? Sam are you in such a hurry to lose a hand?”

Shaking his head, Sam defending himself as if it really made a difference. “I didn't touch her,”

What he wanted was worse Jon knew, and he was blunt with him about it. The man had said anyone who touches one of his wives loses a hand, and Sam was coming to Jon with something about a hundred times worse. “No, you just want to steal her. What do you think Craster cuts off for that?”

If he wasn't so frustrated over far too much in his life, Jon might have felt bad for the unintentional comparison he put forth as Sam whispered, “I can't steal her. She's a person, not a goat.”

But once more, there was too much on his mind. His father was dead, he didn't know if Arya and Sansa were safe or even alive, he didn't know if Bran and Rickon were safe, and to top it all off he almost every day it felt like, had to watch his brother be King with the woman Jon loved. And if he had to have a vision of you and Robb fucking once more time, he might lose it.

But in fairness, he knew none of that was Sams fault. He came to Jon trying to help this girl, and Jon had to address that without taking his frustrations out on him with it. Collecting himself, Jon knew Sam didn't respond to arguing well, but he did with logic and reason. “We're heading deeper and deeper into wildling territory. We can't take a girl with us. Mormont wouldn't have it, and even if he would, what would we do with her? Whose going to deliver a baby? You?”

Quite literally any answer was the right one except for what Sam actually said. “I could try.” Turning his head away as Jons brows narrowed at him, Sam moreso he suspected was trying to just plead his reasons to himself, he already knew what Jon was saying. “What? I read about it..a bit..”

There was little Jon could do about anything in his own life, let alone this one girls own. It didn't make him feel good, but Jon was as honest as he could be. “I'm sorry, Sam. We can't help her.”

Though, Jon certainly thought to himself later, that he wished they could help. But he wouldn't tell Sam that, beacuse it would mean telling Sam what he saw that night, and every bit of it made Jon feel sick. Realizing Craster was taking his newborn sons into the woods, to seeing one of them walk up and take the child, to the stunningly unsettled revelation that the Old Bear knew about it already.

Jon could only say it to Lord Commander Mormont exactly as it found it in his mind, close to that of a yell in shocked anger, “He's murdering his own children, he's a monster.” But nothing could compare to the inhuman dread building inside of him as Jon gave his own honesty once more, but a strained mutter with something fearful behind it. “I saw it. I saw..something take that child.”

Both men wished it weren't true, but the Old Bear was right as he spoke just as quiet and feared of the unknown about it. “Whatever it was, I dare say you'll see it again.”

In his moment standing there on his own, Jon wondered if you were seeing things as Jon was. If you watched parts of his life now, as he was yours. He hoped not. He didn't want to have seen what he saw take that child, and away at war you had far more to be concerned with then things far north you couldn't possibly understand.

Besides, as twisted as it felt for Jon to watch you and Robb the way he was forced too, he didn't want you to have the same conflict. He could tell you loved Robb, and Robb loved you, that much was certain from the visions in Jons eyes. It tore his heart a bit to think it, but Jon was glad you and Robb had each other, he truly was. And as much as the selfish side of Jon wanted to know if he was still part of your life even as a figure in your mind, he didn't want to get in the way.

He told you that night before your wedding that he wanted you to be okay with the fact that you were going to be Robb's. And that still hadn't changed. His brother deserved to be loved, and so did you.

But these visions Jon kept having, it just made that feel all the more needlessly complicated.

As if things weren't bad enough, as if he wasn't already grappling with what Qhorin Halfhand was about to make him do, Jon was getting the increasing urge to turn around and fling this girl into the closest body of water. He was immensely fed up, but this was his punishment for hesitating too long.

Taking a life like that, his first real one like that of an execution, that wasn't something Jon had done. He fought and killed a wight but taking a human life like that was new. It wasn't as easy as men pretended it would be. But, Jon decided instead of forcing himself to do it, he'd try mercy. So he took the wildling hostage and it all led to this.

They came back looking for him, and it got them captured and killed and now it was only Jon and the Halfhand left. The plan was the same, someone needed to get inside Mance's army and both of them knew they'd boil the Halfhand alive before ever letting him escape with his life. But the man argued that they might be able to trick the wildlings into trusting Jon, and the only way to do that was coming.

Jon still hadn't taken a life. But he was about to, and he was struggling to accept it.

Or, he'd be struggling to accept it more were it not for the bane of his existence making him miserable behind him. Acting as if she was so much better then him, when all she had done was make things worse for Jon. He ended up most nights having to have Ghost sleep in between he and her, beacuse she would try making advances on him in the middle of the night.

Whatever she thought this was, it wasn't. But she was loud, and rude, and hypocritical and wouldn't listen and so Ghost had to protect him at night. She was tied up, and still, Jon didn't really feel safe being asleep around her, so Ghost had to be there. Now that the positions were flipped?

Shockingly, none of the mercy Jon showed, was shown to him. He many times had to almost silently implore Ghost to stay out of it, he needed to do this, and so he needed to put up with this. Thankful, there was something about he and his direwolf that was almost beyond needing words. Ghost understood what was in his head right now, and let it happen, and kept his distance, but were Ghost any closer, Jon knew he'd be able to hear him growling at her.

If her non stop loud talking wasn't the thing giving Jon a headache, it was the way she quite literally, was smacking him with the flat edge of his sword. Smack after smack she would hit him with it and it was really testing him. Ned Stark did not raise his son to hit a girl, but gods Jon would've been about to turn around and hit this one if it wouldn't also immediately get him killed.

“We should be there by sundown. Won't be a fun night for you. Mance knows how to make crows sing. If you know what to say, you might just make it through the night.” Jon never once said anything about the things which would happen to her when he reached his brothers, but there she walked behind him, the glee in her voice about what Mance Rayder was going to do. What torture Jon was to endure come nightfall, as if it was going to be the best part of her day.

Besides hitting Jon in the back of the head for the hundredth time. When did he ever hit her? Right, never. He felt his temper rising, and for the rest of their sakes he hoped not all wildling girls were this obnoxious.

“Not talking's not the way to go.” He had been silent, not any interest in speaking to her, but once more she hit him again.

So Jons patience ran thin, and so did his ability to control the short temper in his words. “Careful with that, you might cut yourself.”

As soon as he said it, he knew it was only a matter of time. Qhorin Halfhand had the advantage of where he walked being able to see the right opportunity, and so Jon knew he was going to have to start attempting to create ones for the man. It had to happen, and just maybe, he'd get Ygritte to shut up for once while doing it. As if he hadn't been training with a sword since he was old enough to hold one, she acted as if it was this easy.

Only, Jon had used a sword that long. Ducking in an instant, he turned to move behind her. Eyes all found them, and Jon needed to keep them on him. As long as it wasn't happening, Jon could work up to what he was going to have to do without quite thinking about it. It wasn't real yet. So he kept the eyes off the Halfhand, and on him instead. “Never swung a sword before, have you? You look like a baby with a rattle.”

It was an easy target he knew, mocking Ygritte with how he knew in a fair fight she'd stand not a seconds chance against him. But she was easily riled up as if she could ever deny it, and so she turned to him in anger as he did her. A brief thought in Jons head that the girl hadn't done anything anywhere near enough to prove that the bravado she held, was earned.

Jon thought however, that it was you who did earn the right to hold that sort of superior attitude, but never would you come close to it. In a sword fight, Jon knew he'd be able to cut a smug, over confident Ygritte down with ease. But Jon knew one thing for certain, you were one who could take Jon on in a sword fight. He taught you not just how to fight, but how to hold your ground against Jon himself and you both always sparred with a playful fun in your eyes. Even this far away, gods help him beacuse Jon could still see bright as ever how beautiful you looked, in memory and in visions of now.

Ygritte just looked like an angry child who wasn't getting her way.

But the Halfhand took the opportunity, knocked down the one holding him captive, stealing back his sword and making his move. Knocking Jon down to the snow, Jon had to find the mindset right away. This was their only chance, Jon had to make this convincing no matter how much he didn't want to do this. But he had to, yelling for him to stop, the Halfhand goaded him into the right mindset like they both knew he would. “Why, traitor? So you can give Mance Rayder an invitation to Castle Black?”

Rattleshirt yelled at the wildlings holding both men back, yelling them to let them fight. Being allowed to grab his sword, Jon and the Halfhand fought. He was good, and he was convincing at seeming angry, but they still both knew, Jon had to be better, beacuse they would never trust the Halfhand. Back and forth they swung, trying to find the grounds to get this right.

But, the Halfhand was smart and knew exactly what needed to be done to force Jons hand into winning this fight, and played right into a weakness. Yelling at him, “Your traitor father teach you that?” Jon moving onto the attack only for the Halfhand to parry, and the final nail in the coffin was landed that had Jons blood boiling just the right amount of steaming red to find the strength, hearing the man yell at Jon, “Or was it your whore mother?”

That anger swam right through him, enough that he swiftly was able to knock the sword from his hand and then in a moment of silence, they both stood staring at each other knowing Jon had to do this. Running his sword right through him, Qhorin Halfhand looked right into Jons eyes with a conviction and trust that they were making the right decision, barley whispering to him almost as a reminder of why they made this sacrifice, “We are the watchers on the Wall.”

Falling dead to the ground, Jon heard nothing around him. No words, no conversation. The wildlings spoke, some maybe to him even, but Jon heard not a single bit of it. All he could do was stand there seeing and feeling how plunging his sword through Qhorin Halfhand felt, and a horrific ill crept up in his throat.

His first kill was a good man, a man who did nothing wrong, who died beacuse Jon failed to kill a single wildling. One of his own brothers of the Nights Watch. The first red staining Jon Snow's hands was a man he wished he never killed, just to convince these people to trust him.

Looking back to see them burning the Halfhands body, Jon wondered how long it was going to take until this sweeping guilt came up from the earth and swallowed him whole.

The guilt wasn't allowed to stay long, before he knew it, he was in their army camp. One hundred thousand wildlings and Jon was being led there to meet Mance Rayder, the King Beyond the Wall. It was now or never, it didn't matter how much Ygritte and Rattleshirt trusted him, Jon needed Mance Rayder to trust him or none of this would ever matter. Ghost slunk silently in the background, keeping his blood red eyes no where but ensuring he was always paying attention to where Jon was. His only protection left, the only tie to who he really was left, beacuse Jon was entering that tent as nothing but a lie.

To be honest, he wasn't what he expected at first. Large and imposing, yes. But there was something rumbling and unhinged in the mans demeanour. Hair a wild orange and a thick beard to match as he ate, not looking up to him yet. His voice was low, and Jon suspected were he to yell, it would rumble the earth like thunder. “I smell a crow.”

Rattleshirt spoke behind him, “We killed his friends.” Jon worked hard to stand there in stillness, keeping his breathing even. He had gotten them killed, it was no ones fault but his for not killing Ygritte when he should have. “Thought you might want to question this one.”

Still, he didn't look at him. “What do we want with a baby crow?”

Ygritte coming to a defence Jon didn't want, “This baby killed Qhorin Halfhand. He wants to be one of us.” Jon was at the very least glad someone bought it, beacuse Jon felt such drowning guilt it felt as if it was painted all across his very face.

The man felt even larger as he stood, Jon looking up at him, blue eyes staring him down harsh with not a hint of impress. “That half handed cunt killed friends of mine. Friends twice your size.”

But that didn't scare Jon, he even had seen a giant out in that camp but every one of them were men, they were all made of the same things. Looking with no more intimidation in his eyes, Jon spoke with a rough truth, “My father told me big men fall just as quick as little ones if you put a sword through their hearts.”

This was an imposing man, not a single ounce of care in his eyes as he rumbled deep in kind. “Plenty of little men tried to put their swords through my heart. And there's plenty of little skeletons buried in the woods. What's your name, boy?” Jon answered, but in a second did it clue in, who he was clearly speaking too.

It wasn't anything but everything he was taught and valued, but he kneeled, “Your Grace.” And everyone in the room laughed. The man before him, found it the most amusing.

Arms reaching out with a bright glint in his eyes as he jested to the others, “Your Grace? Did you hear that? From now on, you'd better kneel every time I fart.”

Then, he stood from the corner of the tent. Tall just like the man before him, but there was a serious air about him that was more then just the orange bearded ones intimidation. “Stand, boy. We don't kneel for anyone beyond the wall.”

Looking at the real Mance Rayder face to face, for a single second Jon thought to himself it was odd that in a way, the man looked as if he'd somehow seen him before. Even worse though, and even though it was impossible, Mance looked Jon in the eye with the confidence no stranger beyond the wall should've had. “So, your Ned Stark's bastard.”

No one here should have known that. Ned was his fathers nickname, bastards weren't even a concept for children here beyond the wall, he'd never met this man before. And suddenly Jon realized, there was something more dangerous about the King Beyond the Wall then he ever knew.

As the others left, Jon had no idea what she wanted at all, but the simple fact that Mance had caught Ygritte giving Jon a look as she left the tent was enough it seemed. “The girl likes you. You like her back, Snow? That why you want to join us?”

Even if he could even slightly tolerate her, Jon would consider himself an utter disgrace of any kind of man, either as man of the Nights Watch, or a man with Stark blood in his veins, if meeting one girl was enough to make him betray his brothers. The other man, found only amusement in the comment that Jon cared not for. “Don't panic, boy. This isn't the damned Night's Watch where we make you swear off girls.”

No, he thought. Jon only swore off one girl.

And right here, in that tent as the only girl these men spoke of was Ygritte, Jon wished you would appear to him here and now. He didn't care what he would have seen, he wanted to see you and only you. Don't lump Jon into the kind of men who jumped from girl to girl as they fancy, he thought.

Jon had a girl. He'd only ever have one. His first girl.

But, he managed to convince them to trust him. Mance knew right away, Jon didn't care about the girl outside, or being free, or anything of the sort. Jon convinced him with the truth. That he had seen one of those things, one of the Others take a baby boy away in the woods. That the Lord Commander already knew. “I want to fight for the side that fights for the living. Did I come to the right place?”

Simply telling him, they would need to get him a new cloak, but Jon did not miss the fact that Mance Rayder, had not actually answered his question.

Jon felt worse then he ever had before in his life. He was miserable, and lying, and everything felt wrong. Who in the seven hells was he anymore? Being with you never felt like this, it never made him feel uneasy, it never made him hate himself, it never made him hide from the truth beacuse it felt sickening.

But he had to lie about it. Beacuse he knew the word. He knew what word was to describe what had happened, what was happening, but he couldn't accept it. Jon was a man. A strong, capable man. He shouldn't be allowed to say that happened to him. He should be a better man then that beacuse everyone would laugh and mock him if he said what he was thinking.

Everyone but you. You'd see through it right away if you saw the way Ygritte was with him, and you'd know the truth Jon was painfully hiding from. You, and Ghost. He had to send Ghost away. She demanded it. It was the only way, they all knew if Jon walked out of that cave without doing it, they'd know he was still loyal to the Nights Watch and they'd kill him faster then he could come up with an excuse.

Ghost wouldn't ever have let it happen, and he almost didn't. His direwolf let a lot happen at Jons order, but this was not one Ghost would stand back from. He would have torn her apart if Jon didn't send him away, and he hadn't seen his direwolf since. It made it all the worse. What he had to do, what she made him do, and how much he felt disgusting for it.

Jon never felt such a deep hatred in himself when he was with you. He'd have you on his bed, perched on his lap with your soft lips against his, part of your dress falling down your shoulders almost exposing your breasts were you not pressed tight against him. He'd guide your covered hips along his covered cock and it was a heaven which was found in your touch together.

So why did he feel dirty, filthy? Like his skin was so covered in a grime he'd have to tear it off just to get it all clean. But he couldn't. He did what he did, and whatever forced pleasure his body found, only made Jon want to scream.

He didn't care that you married Robb, he didn't care about any of that. Even if he'd die without it, Jon would have waited that entire lifetime to share it with you. That belonged to you, just like his heart but Jon let Ygritte take it and it was only a miracle which Jon didn't break down that day.

He had seen you in the middle of it. A vision like before, but this time, his vision was of you telling Robb you were pregnant. The glee shared between you both and the way his brother took you after as Jon was forced to watch as he himself was taken, but by force. But Jon was still here, and so were the wildlings and now he had to pretend he was part of this.

Jon had to pretend Ygritte was who he wanted, and he had to pretend he didn't feel fear now everytime she came close to him, not knowing when she'd just take and take what Jon didn't want to give all over again. He lied to himself, and said this was normal. This was how a relationship felt. In fear and avoidance.

So why, did Jon sit there terrified at the thought that you could see this? If this was real, why did you knowing about Ygritte scare Jon? Why did the idea that you thought Jon moved on, make him feel as if he was nothing but a low life who was betraying you? But now they all thought Ygritte and Jon were with one another, and Jon had no choice other then to pretend like it was all okay.

He couldn't think about how much he missed you, and how desperately he wished you were here instead of her. Being with you felt like Jon and you were born to find one other, being with Ygritte made him feel like a stranger in his own mind.

He knew too, his father would be horrendously disappointed in who Jon had become.

“But I'm your woman now, Jon Snow. You're going to be loyal to your woman. Don't ever betray me.” Sitting next to him she said it with such conviction. But if that was how it was, why did Jon dream of you every single night without failure, why did he still see you in visions day after day and wish he could reach through them and return to you?

But he couldn't say that. She'd kill him here and now. So he just said, “I won't.”

She kept talking, and threatened him as if it was cute and Jon sat in silence feeling ill. He had to love her, he had to. He couldn't do this otherwise, he couldn't think of you. It had to be her, beacuse Jon couldn't handle feeling like he was betraying your love.

You and Jon teased one another, so he had to tell himself, Ygrittes threats and insults were essentially the same thing. You were strong willed, and Ygritte smugly saw herself with a superior opinion, that was the same thing, right? Your touch was gentle, and selfless, and so unbelievably loving, and Ygrittes was selfish and forceful and mean.

Maybe, Jon thought, if he just didn't let her touch him anymore, he could lie about the rest until he believed it. He had nine hundred feet of the Wall to climb, so maybe he could spend that, telling himself his love for you didn't matter anymore, beacuse his survival was dependant on loving her.

But then they got to the top, and Jons world shifted. He could see here and elsewhere, but it wasn't a scenario he watched. Just you. Standing out in the woods, green all around you with red watering eyes and something devastated in them that made Jon want to pull you into his arms, but then you looked up. You looked at him.

Wherever you were, you could see Jon as he saw you. You were so upset, and Jon realized you had seen exactly what he didn't want. You had seen him too, and he wanted to lash out. You looked at Jon, shocked you both were seeing the same vision of the other at the same time, but you also had seen what looked like Jon moving on. It looked to you, like Jon didn't love you anymore.

As soon as you were gone though, Ygritte moved to kiss him. But he rejected it entirely, twisting from her and just walked away, damned the looks they all gave him for it. You had seen him, and now you thought Jon didn't love you anymore and he hated it. He hated this plan, he hated he had to kill Qhorin Halfhand for this plan, and he hated that he gave up the only thing he had left that belonged to you, to her.

Jon never felt more alone then ever.

He always remembered something his father told him. It was after the first time he had gone with him to witness his father carry out an execution. He had told Jon something that stuck so heavily with him every day since.

“The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die.”

Jon since that day, even more so now as a man, tried to live by those words. And today, he had a growing feeling deep in his gut, that it was all coming to an end. The words of his father he lived by was about to clash with the free folk and what they demanded of him. All knelt behind a stone fence, waiting for Orell to return from scouting, and the news he came with only made that prediction of Jons that much stronger. “Only one old man, and eight good horses.”

Tormund turned to Jon, asking why one man would have eight horses, and he was honest about it. “He breeds them for the Watch.”

Discussing what to do, Jons eyes once trained on the grass intently, raised up in a deep protest as Orell whispered with the larger man, “He's got some gold in there, and proper steel. Let's carve him up.”

He knew what he was doing, Jon knew exactly what they were all about to think if he said it but not for a second was any of this right. Roughly he hissed out, “We just take the horses and go. The old man's no threat.”

Jon had gotten good at detecting when Ygritte was putting on a soft tone to manipulate him, and there was no patience left for it in Jons body. He too knew, mercy, was not something she cared about, not with the dangerous blood thirst that ran through her veins. “He’s an old man. A spear through the heart’s a better way to die than coughing up your last with no one but your horses to hear.”

A better way to die he thought, was when the gods fated it too. Not being slaughtered beacuse they wanted to plunder his own livelihood. Not even sparing her a glance, Jon kept his attention on Tormund instead. “The Watch might send a few men looking for a horse thief. They’ll send a lot more to hunt down murderers. “

The strange thing was, Jon at the very least, found it in him to respect Tormunds honesty. He didn't manipulate or lie, he was blunt and honest about his intentions and goals without care of what others thought. But regardless, as he leaned into Jons space and spoke, Jon knew he wasn't going to let these people do this to an innocent man. “I hope so. Killing crows in their castle is tough. Killing them out here in the open, that’s what we do.”

All jumping over the edge, the group made the run across the field and Jon came up with a plan in the seconds it took him to reach it. He knew horses well, and he knew how easy it was to spook them. Not a soul saw him do it but the gods, and that was the only eyes he cared about. Slamming his sword down onto a passing rock, the clink echoed enough to reach the horses ears as they neighed and shifted.

Enough together it would grab anyone's attention. Stepping outside to see what the ruckus was, the old man spotted the group running his way, and moved thankfully quick. Jumping onto one of the horses, the man begun to make his escape as Jon had one last thing to do.

Raising her bow up to shoot an arrow into him, Jon angrily called Ygritte's name. Just enough of a distraction to throw her aim off enough so the man could escape. Her head whipped around to glare at him, and Jon could only avoid her eyes and walk passed her in silence.

If this was love, why was a deep part of him, still scared of her?

By the time they caught up to the old man, it was pouring rain, and getting close to dark. Jon couldn't help the uncomfortable thought, that they had spent a lot of effort hunting down one innocent man.

Ygritte and another shot the man down by plugging his horse full of arrows, sending him flying to the soaking ground as the group all walked up on him. Tormund approached from the opposite side to face him, and the man still with a tough resolve, pulled a knife out and pointed it at him. Jon, turned his head slightly away.

This was who the free folk had hunted down, an old man with but a knife on him and nothing more, just defending his right to be alive. He felt sick.

The ironic thing to him once more, was that it was Tormund who showed the man respect. Man to man, he didn't lie or soften the blow, but was respectful and honest as strange as it seemed as he simply took the knife and tossed it away to the side. “Where were you riding?”

“Doesn't matter now, does it?”

Tormund agreed calmly, that it didn't matter. But, it was the angry yelling of Orell that made Jon feel even worse. “Cut his throat, or he'll tell the crows we're here.” His heart sunk more in his chest, how could he stand here and be part of this, the man didn't deserve this.

Pulling his own blade out, Tormund spoke with a raw honesty, “You understand.”

The old man holding a hand out, looking up to him with one last request. “Let me stand at least. Let me go with a bit of dignity.” Despite everything, Tormund held his hand out and helped pull the man up on two feet, himself.

But Orell, was the one there, who could sense what was going on. He knew what was going on in Jons head and he had poked and prodded at him about not being on their side and it seemed tonight he was going to press the issue just as Jon felt he was reaching his breaking point. “Make the crow kill him.” He moved to get right in his face, voice low and both men knew, that the other knew the truth. “You're one of us now. Prove it.”

But Orell didn't want Jon to kill him, he wanted to expose that Jon was lying once and for all.

Jon knew, if he didn't kill him, he was fighting his way out of here and it would be one against too many to be able to escape easy. Pulling Longclaw out, he let it rest gently at the mans neck. “She looks sharp.” Jon could only nod, maybe, if Jon could do it, it would give the man some solace knowing the blade was good enough to be clean and quick.

But then he'd have to do it. Jon stood there, keeping the sword there as the rain poured around them all and he couldn't stop looking at the man instead of his blade. He was an innocent man, and he stood there hearing his last words, watching him pray to the same gods Jon prayed too. A swirling devastation rose in his mind and in his eyes, why should they get to do this to an innocent man? Why was this who Jon was supposed to become?

Jon looked him in the eye, and heard his final words. So why hadn't he moved yet? They all goaded him. “Do it.” Ygritte was seething anger as she looked at him, and it felt horrible. This was who she thought Jon was, and this was what she thought was worthy of such anger, Jon hesitating to kill one, innocent man.

Jon shifted his grip, as if that was the problem. Tormund yelling at him, “Come on, boy. Go on,” So he raised his sword above him, and Jon knew, this wasn't who he was. Jon looked him in the eyes and heard his final words, but still, he thought, the man did not deserve to die.

His sword fell loose in his grip, as he accepted it was all over. The mask had slipped for good and putting it back was impossible. But just as he did it, Ygritte unceremoniously shot the man dead with an arrow and hell all broke loose.

The fight was chaotic, and just as Jon was almost overwhelmed, multiple men going for him as Orell yelled with an attacking swing, did a figure leap passed them both taking a man to the ground. Turning in shock, Jon saw a wolf, a direwolf and a darker one just as large attack another.

His brothers wolves?

But he had no time to think, Jon fought Orell off, and no hesitation that time, plunged his sword right through the mans chest. Rasping with the most confidence Jon had felt in years, “You were right the whole time.”

The mans eye's turned white in his final moments, and as quick as he fell, did Orells eagle screech. In the mind of his own bird, he attacked Jon, knocking him to the ground and tearing at the skin on his face, trying to go for his eyes before Jon gathered his bearing and knocked him harshly away.

In seconds, Jon climbed up onto a horse, and rode away from them all without a single regret. Only a day later, as he gathered his bearings to plot his path to Castle Black did Ygritte find him. He tried one last time to hopefully get away without issue, playing off what he knew she felt for him, and all it did, was get Jon shot full of arrows so much he felt faint even just riding away from her.

He hadn't had a vision or dream of you in days. Jon could only think in that agonizing ride to Castle Black, that he never wanted to see Ygritte again, and how much he desperately wanted to one day, find a way to see you instead. See you beyond just visions that told you lies. You loved Jon for who he was, and he was a fool for ever thinking he'd love someone who wasn't you.

Ygritte only loved someone who was never real, but you loved Jon Snow exactly as he was. That, was the woman he wanted to see again. And maybe if he were lucky, he'd find a chance. But, when Jon woke up in Castle Black, Sam came to him with news. News of Robb, and news of you, shattering his heart.

Jon knew, he would never get that chance ever again.

“Three dozen bodies with slit throats tossed off the top of the Wall. Seems like that would be a good lesson.” The men all shouted and slammed fists against tables, but none of it helped. None of their eagerness to right the wrong, changed what happened.

As soon as the boy arrived, Jon knew right away, he'd never forget the day Olly came to Castle Black. A boy of twelve telling a horrifying story of losing everything to him. The massacre they had committed and likely he was the only survivor. A hand firm and as comforting as could be sat on Ollys shoulder, as Jon did not hide the way his eyes shined with something unshed. It wasn't the same way or how, but he knew. Jon knew what losing your entire family and home felt like.

He knew what being left alone in the world felt like, and Olly was too young. It wasn't fair.

The worst part though, was that they didn't just do it to do it. They did it beacuse they knew it would cause this reaction. They knew, it would lead to the men rallying for justice. For once as Jon stood there, hoping to be a pillar of any support to Olly, did it feel strange that for once, he agreed entirely with Ser Alliser.

Without Mormont there anymore, Ser Alliser was acting commander. Standing in the middle of the hall, speaking loud and clear the exact thoughts Jon was thinking on his own. “If we go after them, we'll be giving them what they want. They want to draw us out, pick us off a few at a time.”

Maester Aemon sat with the same wisdom as ever, with more then any of them combined it sometimes felt. He was quiet, and all fell even moreso to listen when he spoke. “We have just over two hundred men. And that's including stewards and builders. And me. We can't afford to lose a single man. We must remember our first responsibility. We are the watchers on the Wall.”

Jons head sunk, but not once did his disagree. Qhorin Halfhand did not sacrifice himself to Jons blade so they could sabotage themselves for the sake of justice. No justice could be found if they died before they could protect anyone else. He already had enough of failing to protect the people he loved.

He couldn't protect Robb, he couldn't protect you. So Jon would protect the only thing the gods graced him with left in this world. The Watch and the Brothers now remaining to him.

Admiring Pyps spirit, he insisted there had to be something they could do. But in the quiet, Ser Alliser turned to Jon, both for a serious answer, and he suspected, to test the loyalty remaining in him. “You're a champion of the common people, Lord Snow. What do you say to Brother Pyp's proposition?”

Loyalty however, was all Jon had left. Loyal to the things which truly mattered, and the Nights Watch was not going to be able to protect anyone if they let the free folk slaughter them all. “Mance Rayder is coming. If the wildlings breach the Wall, they'll roll over everything and everyone for a thousand miles before they reach an army that can stop them.”

Robb already lost his Kingdom to the Boltons when they took his life. Jon couldn't let the free folk come and ravage through what of his home, his brothers home, his families home, was left. Jon couldn't save Robb, but he could protect what was left of his Kingdom from this one thing if none else.

Just as Ser Alliser spoke of shoring up Castle Black, did the horn bow. One blast, rangers returning.

And suddenly they all scrambled to get to the tunnel. Only two figures came through barley standing on two feet as they dragged each other. Others helped, some grabbed Grenn and Jon grabbed Edd.

It might be, he suspected, the first time in years that Jon actually, genuinely laughed as Edd strained out in pain, “Thought you'd have blue eyes by now.” Leave it to Edd to be the one to get the first laugh from Jons miserable life, seconds upon his return.

Sitting them both down, freezing and in pain Grenn showed the red marks of the chains that kept them so long from coming back. Edd telling them that they were kept at Crasters by the mutineers, the brothers who killed Craster, and killed Lord Commander Mormont. But the terror hit Jon, leaning down to Edd he rasped out “Are the mutineers staying?”

The answer was what he expected, but also the worst case scenario. Grenn explaining “They're not going anywhere. They've got Craster's food and his wives.”

Edd muttering morosely of the fates that likely were finding them. “Poor girls. Never thought they'd miss their daddy.” Grenn explaining that it was Karl running things, and Jon instantly knew what kind of men that stayed there. Those girls had been through enough with Craster, he couldn't imagine what torture they were finding with men like Karl Tanner keeping them hostage.

Taking a step away from the group, Jon ran a hand over his face realizing what they were going to have to do. They couldn't stay there, they'd be met by Mance Rayders army and they'd sing faster then drunks in a tavern. Once more, Jon thought of the Halfhand. He died for this, the men he was with died for this, that innocent farmer died for this.

They couldn't fail now. Turning to Ser Alliser, Jon's tone was deep and urgent as he cut through the discussion around him. “We need to ride north and kill them all.” Ser Alliser trying to tell him that justice could wait, but Jon interrupted once more, raising his voice as his heart raced. Eyes wide and full of the same dread they all were beginning to sense. “It's not about justice. I told the wildlings we had over a thousand men at Castle Black alone. Karl and the others know the truth as well as we do. How long do you think they'll keep that information to themselves when the wildlings are peeling their fingernails off?”

Voice dropping as his face twisted and narrowed, they were risking too close to the line of loss as he looked up to Ser Alliser. “Mance has all he needs to crush us, he just doesn't know it yet. As soon as he gets his hands on them, he will. Then he'll throw his full strength at us.” Turning to the rest of the men, he let his voice raise, they needed to know how urgent this was has Jon felt. “And even if every one of us kills a hundred wildlings, there's still not a thing we can do to stop them.”

What was worse, was that in a horrible way, it didn't matter that Jon had led men to end the mutineers, beacuse still more death came. This time Jon felt the guilt just as someone else did. But Sam didn't deserve that guilt inside him, and Jon sat next to him that night feeling horrendous, feeling that dark rooted anger twisting inside of him that they couldn't do anything.

They had hit Mole's Town. The closest place North before the Wall, a little run down town where it was mostly known as a place the brothers would sneak out at night to and visit the brothel. It also, was the same brothel where Sam had taken Gilly. Not for that, not even a chance, in fact it was that sort of act which he was protecting her from.

Knowing the kind of men Karl was, or Rast, men who in their free lives outside the wall were killers and rapers, still were in the walls too. And Gilly was one, defenceless girl with a baby who despite the sometimes amusingly quick and sharp attitude she held, was nothing of a fighter. So Sam made a deal with the brothel owner, Gilly would live there and in return she'd cook, clean, and look after the other working girls babies as long as they gave her no other work.

But after Ollys village was attacked, Jon was the one who was the guilty party, not Sam. He had talked him out of going back for her, once Ser Alliser ordered none of them to leave the castle and now that the free folk had rolled through it, Jon knew no one was left. Including the brothers who still snuck out that night.

Jon tried weakly to tell him, “You couldn't have known.” But Sam was grief stricken, and it made Jon feel so much more guilty. Gilly and Little Sam didn't deserve that, none of those girls in Mole's town deserved that, no one did. Sam didn't hide the tears in his eyes, as Jon sat trying to keep down that gut wrenching anger brewing within, which Grenn was not able to hide.

He paced back and forth, shouting the rage that Jon felt inside. “We're just cowering here while they slaughter our brothers?” Edd more calmly behind tried to argue that they were supposed to have been in the Castle, but Grenn grew angrier. Edd and Grenn both had a point, but maybe it would help letting it out as opposed to Jons silence making him feel worse. Maybe not. “Oh, so it's alright then? Black Jack, Kegs, and Mully chopped to pieces 'cause they broke the rules?”

Edd stayed calm at least, “I didn't say it was alright. I'm saying they shouldn't have been there.”

It was a strange time to think it, but Jon could recall the morning after he tried leaving Castle Black to find Robb and you after his fathers death. How easily the Old Bear called him out for leaving, only to placate his fears. “Don't look so terrified. If we beheaded everyone that ran away for the night, only ghosts would guard the Wall. At least you weren't whoring in Mole's Town.”

Sam next to him cut the wound even deeper as he muttered “She's dead because of me.”

Grenn still enraged pacing back and forth, “We pledged to guard the realms of men. We can't even guard Mole's Town.”

Jon had to interupt, he knew Grenns rage, he truly did. But the truth no matter how hard, had to be accepted. The two men hated each other, but Jon knew Ser Alliser was entirely right in ordering all of them to stay within the Castle Black walls. “We can't go after them, you know that. It's what they want.”

Gods help him, he hated that he knew how Sam felt. “Little Sam..as if I cut their throats myself.”

Oh Jon knew too well what that pain was, and it made him feel heavy for not having any words to comfort him over it. Little Sam wasn't his baby and Gilly wasn't his wife, but really, for Sam they still might as well have been. Jon still dreamt every night, a vision of you dying in a pool of your own blood. And he could always see the wounds in your stomach, right where he saw you gently guide Robb's hand to, when telling him you were with child.

Not all of those free folk were bad people, many of them, men like Tormund were just acting as soldiers doing what they knew, what they were told, but it didn't make it any easier. In fact, it made it harder to accept. How on earth did Jon ever trick himself into thinking he could've been one of them.

The mask slipped beacuse Jon refused to kill one innocent man, but by now? How many innocent men, women, and children had been slaughtered since? Olly had described a woman with red hair who shot his father dead, an expressionless look on her face as she walked away. Jon thought to himself, how many have you killed since I left, Ygritte? Is that what she wanted him to become?

You always looked at Jon too highly, always saw him as a better man then he was, but you also always pushed him for more. You saw his potential and supported him no matter what beacuse you believed in him. You never pushed him to be someone he didn't want, never forced him into anything.

You always had a soft spot for children too, you helped raise all of his younger siblings on and off. This would have utterly horrified you. His gut twisted, knowing that you didn't just die that night, but you were slaughtered like an animal right in the stomach where your own child was growing.

Around him, Jon could hear the others trying to assure Sam she might have gotten out, might have escaped somehow but Jon couldn't convince himself to say anything. If Gilly was dead, Jon didn't want to give Sam the pain of false hope. That was equally as cruel as the bloody truth. But as he sat there, it clued in his mind.

Brows narrowing in thought as he connected the dots of the maps he knew like the back of his hand. “If they hit Mole's Town, then we're next.” Looking up with an unnerved distance in his eyes, Jon looked despite knowing he wouldn't see them. Not until they wanted to be seen. “Mance's army must be close.”

Finally, Pyp asked the most pressing question. “How do two hundred men kill a hundred thousand?”

The silence was his answer. Edd circled around to them, pouring ale into each of their mugs as he spoke grim. “Whoever dies last, be a good lad and burn the rest of us. Once I'm done with this world, I don't want to come back.”

All five of them drank together. Their days were finally numbered.

He was trying not to get angry, it wasn't Sams fault. He didn't know. No one knew. He explained it that day the only way someone like Ser Alliser would care about, and from they point on he just let them all say what they wanted about it. None of them would've believed him, and even if they did, they'd mock him for it. Everything Jon was capable of, and yet they'd torment him for not being able to defend himself against one wildling girl.

As if it was that simple. Jon didn't need to be held down to be forced into it, it was far more complicated then that, but no one cared. The only person who would've cared was you, and you were dead, so why should Jon care anymore about people knowing the truth?

But Sam kept trying to ask. “I want you to tell me what it was like to have someone. To be with someone. To love someone and have them love you back. We're all gonna die a lot sooner than I'd planned. You're the closest I'll ever get to know it.”

His hands tensed and untensed, trying to keep himself calm. His men needed him to be calm and in control tonight of all nights. Jon loved you, and you loved him. That was it.

“You know right? Even if I don't say it?”

If Jon could go back and say damn it all, he would've just told you how much he loved you if he knew how this was all going to end. You died thinking he didn't love you anymore, and now Jon was facing death where everyone would wrongfully assume he loved someone who wasn't you.

He tried very hard to divert the question to anything else. “So you and Gilly never-”

They went back and forth about vows and what not but in truth Jon didn't really care. Not now. As they walked, it was only when Jon found themselves alone for half a moment when he finally got fed up enough and turned to Sam. “I didn't do it beacuse I wanted to Sam. I did it to keep myself alive. I don't know what being with someone you love in that way is like.” Your name came from his lips for the first time in months, and it stunned Sam silent. “She died before I could find out. Ygritte is nothing like her. Not even close.”

That ended the conversation. If they died tonight, or tomorrow as they all expected, he wouldn't do it with no one knowing it was you he wanted to be with. Just one person had to know what he had with you was the only real thing he's ever felt. Someone had to know Jon only ever loved you, beacuse you died, thinking that he didn't.

All beacuse of what Ygritte forced him to do.

The barrels all rolled into place, Jon found himself standing next to the man himself. “That's the last of the oil, Ser Alliser.”

Both men stood there, looking out into the darkness as he asked what he already knew. “A hundred thousand you say?” Jon confirmed once more, feeling the same motivated dread he did. “You can say it if you like. We should've sealed the tunnel while we had the chance like you suggested.”

But Jon didn't want to say it. He didn't agree, but he understood why he refused. And pointing out who was right or wrong about what didn't matter now. They were here to do the same thing, defend the same place and people. Hating one another or not, tonight Jon and Ser Alliser stood on equal ground fighting for what they both knew and felt in their bones, was the right thing. “It was a difficult decision either way, Ser.”

“Do you know what leadership means, Lord Snow? It means that the person in charge gets second guessed by every clever little twat with a mouth. But if he starts second guessing himself, that's the end. For him. For the clever little twats. For everyone.” Mormont had tried to help Jon become a leader, and it was him who says he first needed to learn how to follow. “This is not the end. Not for us. Not if you lot do your duty for however long it takes to beat them back. And then you get to go on hating me and I get to go on wishing your Wildling whore had finished the job.”

In truth, Jon wished she did too. Then he wouldn't have to experience the painful reality of knowing what living without you in this world felt like.

When it mattered most, Lord Janos Slynt was exactly what Jon knew he was. A coward. They looked to the fire and the army of Mance Rayder as they stood high on the wall, and the man was the only one of them who panicked. “No discipline. No training. Gang of thieves, that's all this is. I commanded the city watch of King's Landing. Those men obeyed orders.”

What in Seven Hells was this man even going on about? Jon turned to him, yelling without a care for holding back now. “We can't just let them attack the gate,” Janos babbled something about the steel as he lost more and more of his own command. Jon gesturing out, yelling in the cold wind to the sights coming for them. “Those are giants riding mammoths down there. Do you think your cold, rolled steel's gonna stop them?”

If they all made it through, Jon made a note in his mind to thank Grenn later. Coming to him, he leaned over to Slynt with an easy lie on his lips. “Brother Slynt, I've just got word that Ser Alliser needs you below. You're the most experienced man he's got, he said he needs you.”

So he left like a coward, and Jon knew the men up here still needed a commander. He had learned how to follow, and he felt the call to action as natural as it ever had come to him. It was time Jon lead.

Watching as the fight raged on, two giants came down from their mammoths and the worst begun, if they got through it was all over. They used their great strength to begun pulling the gate off and open with ropes, and Jon knew if they did one thing it was they needed to hold that gate closed. If Mance's army got in, it was over, for them, the watch, and everyone who the free folk would rampage over in what was left of Jons home.

Turning to Grenn, Jon couldn't have known how much he was going to regret choosing someone who meant that much to him. “The outer gate won't hold. Take five men, hold the inner gate.” Grabbing his arm before he left, Jon muttered roughly “Hold the gate. If they make it through...”

But Grenn was a fighter if Jon had ever seen one. Not a doubt in his mind as looked back at him. “They won't.”

The night raged onward, and it was a strange sight in the carnage to see Sam coming up behind him. “What are you doing up here?”

An urgency in his voice as Sam relayed the dire state below. “The Wildlings are over the walls. Ser Alliser has fallen. The castle walls can't stand much longer.” One leader high, and one leader low. But now? It all fell onto Jon, he needed to be the leader fighting for the only purpose that mattered. Giving Edd command of the Wall, Jon turned to make his way down the path.

Grabbing Longclaw, he it pulled free with a yell to his men, “Come brothers, now fight with me,”

For a split second, Jon feared it was all over. He stood there, knowing he couldn't kill her faster then she would kill him. Ygritte was angry, upset and kept Jon at bay with an arrow pointed right at him, but this wasn't who she thought he was.

This was the man he always had been, the one he wanted to be. Ygritte forced him to love her as someone else, but he wasn't that falsehood. Jon Snow stood for better then the destruction and bloodshed she raged in favour of.

But perhaps, he used it for once, to manipulate her to his advantage. If he stood there, risking her shot, letting her think he wouldn't or couldn't kill her, then Ygritte wouldn't turn around. And she wouldn't see what was coming her way, just like how Ollys father never saw her arrow coming his way.

The boy stood with a bow in hand, and as she thought it was her Jon was looking at, Jon made eye contact with Olly. He was a good shot, and Jon trusted in that. The nod was to him, not to her, and when the arrows flew, Jon found himself uncaring, as the memories of what she forced him to do flashed before his mind.

Maybe it was cold or cruel, but Jon could feel the filth she made him cover himself in when she would force from him what he never wanted to give her, and he couldn't find it in himself to care when she fell to the ground dead. Jon Snow already lost the woman he loved, and your name sure as hell wasn't Ygritte.

He didn't want to think how many brothers he lost that night, but Jon forced himself too. Pyp was gone, an arrow through his neck and the gods were cruel enough that Jon knew she had done it. He should have killed her that day beyond the wall, he should've just killed her when Qhorin Halfhand was still alive. Beacuse then Pyp would still be alive. The brothers all around him would still be alive.

Tormund was the only one left, the men surrounded him but he was angry and a fighter with rage flowing through him and they all stood back in a degree of fear, instead of fighting him. But Jon, for once, finally didn't care about how Tormund saw him. Walking over with a crossbow in hand, Jon yelled to him. “Tormund. It's over. Let it end.”

Gruffly spitting at him, “This is how a man ends-” But Jon had no more patience for it. Raising it up, Jon shot Tormund in the leg, and just as he yelled out, Jon kicked his blade out his hand and to the ground. He had been the only one with the bravery to get anywhere near the wild man.

“Put him in chains. We'll question him later.”

Jon turned and walked away as his brothers dragged him off. Tormund yelling and spitting in rage, “I should've thrown you from the top of the wall, boy.”

Rasping quietly to no one, Jon didn't really care if he heard him or not. It didn't matter. The dead were all still dead and there was no changing the past. Most who Jon cared about, were still gone after all.

“Aye. You should've.”

It was a terrible idea, but every idea everyone had left was a terrible idea.

Qhorin Halfhand had said it the best all those years ago. “Sneak in, kill Mance, and scatter them to the wind.” And he was right. But no one here was willing to do it, beacuse it was a plan that ended in death for the brave soul who would end him.

Jon had lost his father, brothers, sisters, family, home and you. He had nothing left in the world outside, all he had left was the watch and the brothers who died, after turning to him to lead in the darkest part of the night. As he approached Sam, he knew it would be the last time he saw him too.

But no one here was going to make this sacrifice. Which means it was Jons responsibility, and truthfully, Jon felt as if it was the only path left for him that made sense. Do one last thing, beacuse Jon had nothing else left.

Sam called it a great victory, but he rasped roughly at him the hard truth. “Great victory? Mance was testing our defences. He almost made it through. He has a thousand times as many men. They'll hit us again tonight. Maybe we can hold them off for a day or two, but we can never beat them.”

Walking away Sam realized what Jon was thinking, trying to argue with him not to do it, but Jon kept walking anyways before being told it was a bad plan. In honest, Jon sort of smirked. They were all full of lots of those these days, weren't they? “You're right. It's a bad plan. What's your plan?”

Grenn lay dead, he held the gate just as Jon told him too. Add another person Jon cared about that this was going to be for. Jon was doing this for him now too. He deserved better.

Pulling off Longclaw, he handed it to Sam. “I promised Jeor I'd never lose it again.” Taking it gently, the two looked at each other. The only person Jon had left, and he was about to walk away from him too. “In case I don't come back.”

“Jon. Come back.”

He knew he wouldn't. But Jon walked through the gate anyways. He had one last stand to make that no one else would. Beacuse he was taught to be a leader, and sometimes, leaders had to be the ones to throw themselves on their sword to save the rest. And just maybe, Jon couldn't do any of this anymore anyways.

Walking into that camp, Jon felt little care left for the life he was about to give up.

Only as he stood in Mance Rayders tent, as the two men realized Jon was there to kill him? That's when it all changed. That's when it happened.

Moving outside, men on horseback charged into the camp. More numbers on horses then the free folk knew where they came from, and they had come north of the wall too. Taking down men left and right, Jon knew right away these were not men of the Nights Watch, and they weren't free folk either.

These were soldiers. Real soldiers.

Mance in minutes realized they stood no chance, and yelled a surrender to his people. “Stand down, I said my people have bled enough and I meant it.”

Standing next to him, Jon watched as two riders in the distance approached. The banners he realized, weren't just normal Westeros banners. It was inside a heart set ablaze, but Jon knew the sigil all the same. Beacuse inside that burning heart, was a Stag. A crowned Stag.

Climbing down from their horses, Jon knew it was no coincidence men had come to their aid. Sam and Maester Aemon sent pleas to whoever remained in the Seven Kingdoms to help them, and at the last minute, only one King answered that call.

Without seeing him before, without even hearing a name, Jon knew who came to their aid. Older, much more rough and serious in every way, but he could see it clear as day. He knew what was coming, yet still wasn't prepared for it. It was still too raw.

The man looked at both of them, and found Mance Rayder's gaze. “You're the King beyond the wall. Do you know who I am?”

Sensing nothing that Jon was about to spiral into a meltdown from, Mance simply jested, “Never had the pleasure.” But it was Jon who felt his heart sink in his chest at the truth of who came to help him in the end. It was a connection to the one thing Jon would never let of again. The second man spoke what Jon already knew, but he still felt stunned in his heart hearing it.

“This is Stannis Baratheon. The one true King of the Seven Kingdoms.”

[joannalannister]

I just wanted to write down some of my Jon/Dany thoughts before I go to sleep. This isn’t in tracked tags, and I’m sorry I can’t help it about search. I don’t wanna argue with people about this, ok?

(this is about the books, this is about ships I like, (this is about tywin), this is about asoiaf themes, please do not talk to me about that show)

ASOIAF, to me, is a celebration of humanity. It’s about “our great glory, and our great tragedy”. When Maester Aemon says to Jon, “We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love,” that seems to me to be one of the great themes of ASOIAF: love. What better way to celebrate humanity than love? Love is the greatest celebration of the human condition. 

So much of ASOIAF is about love. As @poorquentyn pointed out earlier today, even many of “ASOIAF’s top-tier villains [typically care deeply about someone else in their lives]; Tywin loved Joanna, Ramsay feels protective of his mother, Joff wanted Robert’s attention and respect, etc.” The importance of love is in Sansa’s “If I am ever queen, I’ll make them love me,” and it’s in Ned’s approach to ruling by developing a close personal relationship with the people he rules, and it’s in Cat’s heartwrenching “Ned loves my hair” and it’s the driving force behind so many vengeance/justice narratives, and it’s in Tyrion, my poor baby, longing for love in spite of a society that tells him that no one could ever love him (because ableism). 

I’m not ultra invested in either Jon or Dany individually, but I’m super invested in ASOIAF on a thematic level. So it’s important to me that Jon/Dany fall in love. In my opinion, Jon and Dany falling in love is the biggest FUCK YOU they could ever give to the Others, the best way they could ever say not today, motherfuckers to the eldritch slavers trying to destroy humanity. I can already hear some people laughing at me, but it’s like ... Jon and Dany being in love, taking their love to the Other realm beyond the curtain of light ... it’s the best way for Jon and Dany to declare defiantly, “We’re human, we’re still alive, we’re “still breathing” as show!Jon says, and whatever you do, whether we live or die, we chose this love, we chose each other, and you can’t take this away from us.” 

GRRM weaves a lot of poetry into his writing, and when he wrote for BATB, he referenced Dylan Thomas:

Though lovers be lost love shall not; And death shall have no dominion.

Like, ok, some big shit’s going to go down beyond the curtain of light, some big OMFG shit that I have no idea about, shit that nobody but GRRM knows -- can the Others tap into Jon’s mind post death? what are the rules of the Other realm? can a person ever come back once they go there? -- but Jon/Dany being in love is like humanity’s ~secret weapon~ in the War for the Dawn, a love that can outlast death itself. So truly -- TRULY -- I think Jon and Dany need to be in love to fight the Others. The True Knights going behind enemy lines in the War for the Dawn need to be the ... the most vital**, the most ... the most human we can possibly send, people with a heart full to bursting with love, and a love of humanity so great they would willingly sacrifice themselves for it. 

**the irony of describing post-resurrection Jon “Technically A Zombie” Snow as “vital” is not lost on me, but GRRM likes irony. Black brothers as true knights, white-cloaked kingsguard as corrupt, etc, you get the picture. 

In AGOT, Benjen says,

"You are a boy of fourteen," Benjen said. "Not a man, not yet. Until you have known a woman, you cannot understand what you would be giving up." "I don't care about that!" Jon said hotly. "You might, if you knew what it meant," Benjen said. "If you knew what the oath would cost you, you might be less eager to pay the price, son." Jon felt anger rise inside him. "I'm not your son!" Benjen Stark stood up. "More's the pity." He put a hand on Jon's shoulder.  "Come back to me after you've fathered a few bastards of your own, and we'll see how you feel."

and this idea of Benjen’s that life is worth living is kind of summed up to Jon when Ygritte says, “And if we die, we die. All men must die, Jon Snow. But first we'll live." 

Because Jon was so in love with Ygritte. He loved her, and that’s why GRRM made it hurt when she died. (And I like my ASOIAF to really hurt, so I like to imagine Ygritte was pregnant with Jon’s child when she died.) 

And the thing about “But first we’ll live” is that you have to keep living. That’s why it’s sooooo so important to me about Jon/Dany on a thematic level. More on that in a sec.

*~*~*

And I’m sorry but I can’t write an ASOIAF post without bringing in Tywin, because I love him. I love him, because he’s the perfect obverse of all of GRRM’s themes that I love. Tywin’s like a black hole among the stars, like negative space in the narrative. When studied, he increases my understanding of all the rest. (GRRM works a lot with negative space in the narrative imo.) 

With Tywin, it’s like he died. It’s like he lived and loved Joanna and then he died with her long ago,. But he keeps walking, like one of the Others’ reanimated wights, raised up to continue their agenda to dehumanize every person in Westeros. (I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again, Tywin unwittingly works on behalf of the Enemy.) (Also, please nobody try to twist my words on me, Tywin was obviously a terrible person long before Joanna died, but he was exceptionally monstrous, even to his own children, after she died.)

People ask me relatively regularly, like, who do you think Tywin would marry in an AU after Joanna dies, and I’m always like 1. I don’t like AUs and 2. he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t remarry, and he definitely wouldn’t fall in love again, because that’s the Point of his character. He’s the negative space. Tywin’s the anti-celebration of humanity, he’s humanity’s sad, lonely, rainy funeral that no one attends. He doesn’t love, he doesn’t smile, he doesn’t eat much (read the descriptions in the books), he takes no joy in meat nor mead (oh gosh could I talk about GRRM’s Tuf Voyaging here), he doesn’t live in a book series that celebrates life. 

Tywin doesn’t even celebrate the life that he loved, Joanna’s life. There’s this moment in ASOS where Tyrion thinks about how his father p much never talks about his mother. Think about that. 

There was something I was reading recently, I can’t remember where, but it was about the parents of a child who had died, and it said something along the lines of, the worst thing you could do to them was to avoid talking about their child, to pretend as if the child had never existed. Because talking about their child, remembering their child, was how they kept him alive, how they kept loving him. 

But Tywin never wants to talk about his wife who was the great love of his life. Tywin never even says Joanna’s name in the books, never says her name in a book series that places so much importance on names and naming.*** He doesn’t want to breathe life into her memory, doesn’t want to love. If not for Tyrion’s presence as a constant reminder of everything he lost, I think Tywin would be content to pretend that Joanna hadn’t existed at all. (Ouch.) 

*** @nobodysuspectsthebutterfly, I really liked your theory (do we still call it a theory?) about how in the books Jon will be the first person to call Dany “Dany” out loud since Viserys. Just, ugh, the naming of people, and the intimacy, the connection created by saying a name, or the distance created by not saying one, ugh

*~*~*

OK anyways, that was more than a sec, sorry, I got carried away, but BACK TO JON SNOW. With Jon, to me, the narrative demands that he keep living, keep loving, keep finding love. A living love in Daenerys.

There’s this short story GRRM wrote a long time ago in Dreamsongs about a guy who has his heart broken, but he gets back up and loves again, only to have his heart broken again, and so on, until he gives up and concludes that love is a lie, and he decides never to look for love again, and he closes his heart, and that’s it, that’s the end. It’s a horror story.

And with Jon -- Jon isn’t that horror story, he’s not that guy who has One Love, and when that One Love dies, that’s it, that’s the end. Being human is to keep loving, and to keep looking for love even after your heart is broken. (And let me tell you, Jon is looking in ADWD; “lonely and lovely and lethal”. He’s searching, but not yet finding.) 

And I know that people call this cliche, but to me, GRRM plays with archetypes, so here he’s playing with the hero and heroine falling in love, and putting his own spin on it. (Fire wight romance!!! Think back to 1993 and ask yourself how many fire wight romances there were when ASOIAF was conceived!!! Cliche. heh.)

And I’m just ... my mouth is watering in anticipation of GRRM’s Jon/Dany romance in the books, because it’s like!! Technically a dead guy!! Technically a zombie!!! A dead guy resurrected by fire!! To fall in love with the bride of fire!!! A technically dead guy is gonna be representing GRRM’s greatest celebration of life!! This is almost as good as the psychedelic BATB spider falling in love in Dreamsongs!!! God!!! GOD!!!! PLEASE GEORGE, FINISH TWOW, I’M SO EXCITED FOR THIS

[janiedean]

masha-russia(.)tumblr(.)com/post/106925435839/daenerys-is-azor-ahaiprince-that-was-promised What do you think of this?

oh god

the old gods save me

a) last time I interacted with that person she was arguing theon deserved getting castrated and tyrion would have deserved it too because she appreciated *sexual purity* in people and all the while she liked tywin. k. I mean I don’t hold that user’s opinion in very high regards

b) I had an entire meta post about why jon was AA wait a moment let me find it and see if I can c/p it

AH OKAY HERE IT IS I’m putting it on the side

grrm usually does a thing which is, ‘when he TELLS YOU SOMETHING REALLY REALLY HARD AND MENTIONS IT ALL THE TIME that thing usually doesn’t happen’.

case: every death not on page and everything cersei says. affc: OH HEY DAVOS IS DEAD HIS HEAD IS HUNG OUTSIDE MANDERLY’S CASTLE adwd: hey bro we killed someone else in your place you’re going to find rickon byadwd: hey mance is dead!jon: …. I’m not sure it’s himadwd: SURPRISE IT WASN’T HIM ACTUALLY!cersei: I’M SURE THIS THIS AND THIS HAPPEN BECAUSE I SAY SOactual reality: all the contrary happensarya: well I left sandor dying on the road he’s definitely a gonermonk on the quiet island: I AM STILL ALIVEarya: sometimes I still hear his voice& so on.

now, never mind tyrion’s sage advice about prophecies (Prophecy is like a half-trained mule. It looks as though it might be useful, but the moment you trust in it, it kicks you in the head). What we have in the text is dany seeing R and elia and the following dialogue happens:

“Aegon. What better name for a king… He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire”; “There must be one more. The dragon has three heads.”

AA prophecy:

There will come a day after a long summer when the stars bleed and the cold breath of darkness falls heavy on the world. In this dread hour a warrior shall draw from the fire a burning sword. And that sword shall be Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes, and he who clasps it shall be Azor Ahai come again, and the darkness shall flee before him

+

When the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt to wake dragons out of stone.

+ tpwp prophecy as melisandre & others put it

You are he who must stand against the Other. The one whose coming was prophesied five thousand years ago. The red comet was your herald. You are the prince that was promised, and if you fail the worldfails with you.

+

Born amidst salt and smoke, beneath a bleeding star. I know the prophecy. Not that I would trust it.

+

Stannis Baratheon is Azor Ahai come again, the warrior of fire. In him the prophecies are fulfilled. The red comet blazed across the sky to herald his coming, and he bears Lightbringer, the red sword of heroes.

now, either you think that AA is a red herring and tptwp is the real deal or you think tptwp = AA, the prophecies say exactly the same shit about either, so it’s a lot more likely that AA is tptwp and/or viceversa, or that AA is a red herring but tptwp is not. that stated, in order:

prophecies can’t be trusted 100% and no one interprets them well, which is what tyrion’s implying and what everyone does in these books since until now no one’s ever manage to understand one correctly

if GRRM tells you that someone is SOMETHING without immediate proof/verification, he’s most probably lying or red herring you around

R has elements from which he could deduce that if he didn’t have three children for three dragons the long night would come, which was why he started getting ready for it and was that bent on having three children. now, what is he saying in that vision? that AEGON is tptwp. now, as per above, if R thinks aegon is tptwp he’s definitely wrong because aegon is not and whether the one with jonc is fake or not (I think not) he is not AA or twptw. one out. rhaenys is dead, regardless. and what was R’s deal? getting the third head of the dragon in the world… for which he started a civil war. ops. let’s leave it one moment. anyway, R’s prophecy says for sure three things: the apocalypse is coming, you’ll need three dragons to stop it with three riders who should all be targs, and one of his children is AA/tptwp.

obviously, we could say that dany works anyway because she’s a targ so maybe R’s prophecy was wrong. which is most probably half true, because dany’s of course one of the heads of the dragon. but, she isn’t tptwp. why?

because she’s already been brought up by the narrative and everyone that the narrative explicitly brought up is NOT for now tptwp. it’s not aegon. it’s not stannis. and since in affc grrm took the time to put his red herring around with the language question and so on… sorry but it’s not dany. if she was dany, no one would have brought her up as an option, because that’s… not how the narrative works. like, literally, in asoiaf I’ve never seen anything that explicitly stated (that wasn’t dany owning dragons obv but that was the established plot point from the beginning) actually become a thing. you get hints. you get parallels you can theorize on. but like, if the narrative tells you davos dies offscreen davos doesn’t die offscreen, if cersei thinks marge is the younger and beautiful queen she’s wrong and if aemon thinks tptw is dany, she’s not. it’s a red herring. why?

interlude: there’s a thing named occam’s razor which basically says the simplest explanation is the most likely and if your theory needs to be extra elaborate to work, it’s probably not true.

if we follow occam’s razor (which a lot of narrative does because the more convoluted is a theory the least likely is the reader to buy it), we know: that tptwp has to be a thing, that he/she is related to rhaegar and should be one of his children, that he/she has to die among smoke and salt and blah blah blah and that prophecies are half-trained mules and that in order to have three kids R started a civil war, so that third kid must be damned important, and that it’s not R’s second child because R thought he was, and that it can’t be the first since he’s dead.

now: who is actually R’s offspring which has not been mentioned openly in the book until now, who has never ever ever brought up by the narrative itself as a possible AA/ptwp candidate, who has showed up in melisandre’s flames when she asked to see AA thinking she’d see stannis, and, most important, whose canonical death PERFECTLY matches the AA prophecy if you don’t interpret it literally?

The dead man was Ser Patrek of King’s Mountain; his head was largely gone, but his heraldry was as distinctive as his face. [from awoiaf: Patrek is clean-shaven and windburnt. His knightly raiment are of white and blue and silver, his cloak a spatter of five-pointed stars.] Jon did not want to risk Ser Malegorn or Ser Brus or any of the queen’s other knights trying to avenge him.

Wun Weg Wun Dar Wun howled again and gave Ser Patrek’s other arm a twist and pull. It tore loose from his shoulder with a spray of bright red blood. Like a child pulling petals off a daisy, thought Jon. “Leathers, talk to him, calm him. The Old Tongue, he understands the Old Tongue. Keep back, the rest of you. Put away your steel, we’re scaring him.”

Couldn’t they see the giant had been cut? Jon had to put an end to this or more men would die. They had no idea of Wun Wun’s strength. A horn, I need a horn. He saw the glint of steel, turned toward it. “No blades! ” he screamed. “Wick, put that knife …”

… away, he meant to say. When Wick Whittlestick slashed at his throat, the word turned into a grunt. Jon twisted from the knife, just enough so it barely grazed his skin. He cut me. When he put his hand to the side of his neck, blood welled between his fingers. “Why? ”

“For the Watch.” Wick slashed at him again. This time Jon caught his wrist and bent his arm back until he dropped the dagger. The gangling steward backed away, his hands upraised as if to say, Not me, it was not me. Men were screaming. Jon reached for Longclaw, but his fingers had grown stiff and clumsy. Somehow he could not seem to get the sword free of its scabbard.

Then Bowen Marsh stood there before him, tears running down his cheeks. [NOTE: tears are made of… salt…] “For the Watch.” He punched Jon in the belly. When he pulled his hand away, the dagger stayed where he had buried it.

Jon fell to his knees. He found the dagger’s hilt and wrenched it free. In the cold night air the wound was smoking. “Ghost,” he whispered. Pain washed over him. Stick them with the pointy end. When the third dagger took him between the shoulder blades, he gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow. He never felt the fourth knife. Only the cold…

… and, who has the show confirmed as being r+l?

guys.

it’s jon.

it’s always been jon and it’s always going to be jon on his own. dany will be important af, whoever else rides the third dragon is gonna be hella important (I have a theory which is probably wrong but whatever grrm will have to pry it from me), but tptwp/AA is jon. and R said ‘his is the song of ice and fire’, not ‘the song of ice and fire is for tptwp and AA’. like. it seems fairly obvious textually to me that there’s no way it’s anyone but jon snow, who by the way in theory has had his nissa nissa moment with ygritte if you take it sorta literally and in a lot other ways if you take it very imaginatively.

you’re totally welcome to think it’s both of them, but according to me it’s just him, never mind that dany is all targ, he is half stark and half targ…. so…. ice and fire. like. it’s so trasparent I just can’t think that there has to be something even more complicated to it. *shrug*

GUYS.

guys.

if AA is a red herring or not, or whether AA = tptwp….

it

is

jon

snow

like he died, he came back to life, he’s rhaegar’s son, it’s confirmed, it’s

jon

snow

[gameofzodiac]

Daenerys Targaryen's birth chart

As we didn’t quite get to know Viserys and Maester Aemon, I’m going to create a single birth chart for Daenerys.

Sun: Aquarius

When Danny is happy, she thinks of helping others and a revolution

Moon: Aries

She likes to be seen as a woman in power. Daenerys is domineering and if she doesn’t success, she gets mad and burns people

Mercury: Aquarius

She talks a lot but her purpose is much more important as it is about sharing her big ideas and promoting freedom

Venus: Sagittarius

Flirty and passionate. She looks for the same features in her partners (this makes me feel sorry for the lord of friendzon, he is quite a softie)

Mars: Scorpio

It’s quite easy to make her angry (unless you bend the knee) but her arguments are always well pointed

Jupiter: Cancer

Danny likes to be around soft and caring people, she finds it easy to bond with them. She had been called Mhysa which means ‘mother’ in the Old Ghiscari language

Saturn: Leo

Daenerys’ responsibilities mean life to her. She believes she is the rightful queen which she has already mentioned a few times and has a lot of faith in her

Neptune: Pisces

She dreams of a better world where everyone loves each other

Uranus: Gemini

When planning multiple attacks on Lannisters you have to have a company, right? And a council, and a few armies and why not to invite Jon Snow as well

Pluto: Taurus

Her hidden desire is to feel secure and fulfilled

Rising sign: Cancer

Danny looks quite innocent even though we wouldn’t say she is after watching all those 7 seasons of crucifying and burning people alive but most of folks actually have faith in Mother of Dragons and see her as a Westerosian version of Angelina Jolie

Hopefully you guys are going to like it. Ps I tried to be funny

[nutellaninja0001]

Why couldn't they just name Jon Aemon? It would have distinguished Jon from the first Aegon Targaryen.

It wouldn't have insulted the memory of the first male baby Aegon who died because his father couldn't keep it in his pants

It would have been nice to see Jon named after Aemon. Like the Crow who literally made Jon lord commander.

It would have been a cute call back to Jon role playing as Aemon Targaryen while being a child.

Why? It would have been so easy

[tyrellsimsoficeandfire]

Navigation Help

Update: September 28 2017

 Here comes a master post for all the ASOIAF scenes I’ve done so far to make navigation easier. Sorted in alphabetical order. All posts marked as [OLD POST] are my earliest tries and don’t have great quality.

A

 Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters

Aegon V, Queen Betha Blackwood and Duncan the Tall

Alayne Stone Chapter from The Winds of Winter

Alys Karstark marries the Magnar of Thenn

Arianne the Queenmaker [OLD POST]

Arya and the mummers at Braavos

Arya at the House of black and White

Arya, Joffrey, Sansa and the butcher boy (Direwolf attack)

Arianne Martell and Aerys Oakheart

Arianne Martell’s Queenmaker plot

Arianne Martell: Princess in the Tower (Fire and Blood)

Arianne Martell and her friends

Arianne Martell and Tyene Sand enjoy their first kiss and more

Areo Hotah and Obara Sand

Ashara Dayne and Eddard Stark

 B

Bloodraven and Shiera Seastar

Boltons and Theon

Bran Stark and Old Nan

Brienne and the bear [OLD POST]

Brienne of Tarth receives Oathkeeper from Jaime

 C

Cersei and Taena Merryweather

Cersei Lannister sending Loras Tyrell to Dragonstone under Margaery’s protest 

Cersei Lannister’s prophecy: Queen you shall be

Cersei vs. Margaery and Loras training with Tommen

Cersei’s Walk of Shame [OLD POST]

Cersei and Jaime hunting a stag

Cersei’s affair with Lancel Lannister

Cersei attacking her uncle Kevan at dinner

 D

 Daenerys hatches her Dragon eggs [NEW]

Daenerys and Khal Drogo

Daenerys and Viserys at the House with the Red Door

Daenerys and Viserys before her wedding to Khal Drogo

Daenerys as Queen of Meereen

Daenerys inspecting the Unsullied

Dance of Dragons – Blacks and Greens

Daznak’s pit – Dragon attack

Dead Ladies: Joanna Lannister and other Ladies in Waiting to Queen Rhaella

Doran Martell plotting revenge with Arianne and the Sand Snakes

Dunk and Egg – The Sworn Sword (whole story under one tag)

Dunk and Egg: Character post

Duncan Targaryen and Jenny of Oldstones

 E

 Eddard and Catelyn Stark at the Godswood

Eddard and Catelyn Stark getting news of Jon Arryn’s death

Eddard Stark and Cersei: “Game of Thrones”

Eddard Stark executes the deserter

Elia Martell and her children: Sack of King’s Landing

Elia Martell meets Rhaegar for the first time

Elia Martell and her family (happy moments)

F

Florian the Fool and Jonquil

G

Gendry visited by Eddard Stark

Game of Thrones - Cersei and Eddard in the Godswood

 H

 House Martell feasting

 J

 Jaime and Cersei love scene: 1 and 2

Jaime kills Aerys [OLD POST]

Jaime Lannister and the Westerlings at Riverrun

Jaime Lannister’s vision of his mother Joanna

Jaime Lannister is captured by Robb Stark (at Whispering Wood)

Jaime Lannister’s squire Peck and Pia

Jaime becomes the Kingslayer

Jaime and Loras parallels, Lannister-Tyrell feud

Joanna Lannister and her children

Joanna Lannister is mourned by her children

Joanna Lanniter says ‘Goodbye’ to Tywin

Jon Snow and Samwell swearing their oaths [OLD POST]

Jon Snow and Satin

Jon Snow and Val meet Selyse and Shireen Baratheon with Patchface

Jon Snow is brought back by Melisandre

Joffrey and Margaery with a crossbow

 K

 Kill the boy, Jon Snow: Sam Tarly, Gilly and Maester Aemon leaving Castle Black

Kingsmoot at the Iron Islands

 L

 Lady Stoneheart

Loras and Magaery mourning for Renly

Loras and Margaery [OLD POST]

Loras and Renly love scene when Margaery enters

Loras and Garlan jousting

Loras Tyrell and a squire [OLD POST]

Loras and Renly in the Garden

Loras Tyrell and Renly Baratheon as knights

Loras and Olyvar surprised by Margaery (Show scene)

Loras, Margaery and Joffrey

Lyanna Stark riding with Domeric Bolton

 M

 Mad king’s court

Maidenvault: Sisters of Baelor the Blessed

Mance Rayder is burned

Martells and their Targaryen Restoration

Margaery and Tommen wedding

Margaery Tyrell as prisoner of the Faith

Margaery Tyrell and her brother

Meera and Jojen Reed

Myrcella and Trystane

 N

 Night’s King and his Corpse Queen

Nine Mistresses of Aegon the Unworthy

 O

 Oberyn Martell and Ellaria Sand at a brothel

Oberyn and his squire Daemon Sand

Oberyn and Arianne Martell

Olenna Tyrell and The Reach’s chivalry 

 P

 Petyr Baelish duels with Brandon Stark

Purple Wedding: Joffrey’s death

 Q

 Queen Naerys Targaryen and Aemon the Dragonknight

Quentyn Martell tames a dragon

 R

 Rains of Castamere: Tywin destroying Castamere Castle

Ramsay Bolton hunting with his Reek

Ramsay Bolton marries Jeyne Poole (just the ceremony!)

Ramsay Bolton’s wedding night with Jeyne Poole (WARNING!)

Randyll Tarly, Samwell and Dickon on a hunting trip

Red Wedding: Several parts under one tag [OLD POST]

Renly Baratheon’s coronation

Renly’s infamous book

Rhaegar and Lyanna

Rhaegar and Robert at the Trident [OLD POST]

Rhaegar leaving for the Trident

Rhaegar and Jon Connington (Griff)

Rhaenyra Targaryen burnt by a dragon

Robb Stark meets Jeyne Westerling

Robb, Jon and Theon in the bath house (Season 1 scene)

Roose Bolton returns North with Jeyne Poole

 S

 Sand Snakes

Sansa Stark “punished” by Joffrey’s Kingsguard

Sansa Stark and Tyrion Lannister wedding

Sansa Stark kisses Petyr Baelish and Lysa Arryn’s death

Sansa Stark and Petyr Baelish: Alayne Stone

Sansa Stark meets Margaery and Olenna Tyrell (The truth about Joffrey)

Siege of Riverrun (Jaime Lannister)

Small council of Robert Baratheon

Starks find their Direwolfs

Stormborn: Rhaella Targaryen gives birth to Daenerys

 T

 Targaryen Kings: Part 1 and Part 2

The North remembers: Davos Seaworth and Wyman Manderly

The Tyrells and Renly swimming in the river

Theon and Lady Dustin bathe Jeyne Poole

Theon Greyjoy and Lady Dustin at the Winterfell crypts

Tommen, Margaery and Ser Pounce

Tourney at Harrenhal

Tower of Joy: Lyanna’s death

Tragedy at Summerhall

Tyrell painting session and Queen of Thorns

Tyrell: Character post

Tyrell entourage entering King’s Landing

Tyrells in the Garden: 1 and 2

Tyrion Lannister and the Griffs (Aegon Targaryen, Jon Connington) and the Stone men

Tyrion Lannister’s trial by Lysa Arryn and Catelyn Stark at the Eyrie

Theon Greyjoy and Asha: Return to the Iron Islands

Theon Greyjoy rescues Jeyne Poole from Winterfell

Tommen and his father Jaime

V

Varys murders Kevan Lannister and Maester Pycelle

Viserys Targaryen and Doreah in the bathtub

W

 White Walkers

Willas Tyrell’s jousting accident