#but i don't think we can foster genuine peace of mind for everyone living with or recovering from something if we don't keep that door open

[anaalnathrakhs]

truly nothing spells out “we live in a hell world” better than the fact we could be having a reasonable discussion about what death means to humans and the logical end of bodily autonomy and all that important stuff, but instead our society and medical spheres are so rotten from the inside out that any advancement in that field is used to coerce disabled people and other marginalized and vulnerable populations into letting themselves be killed off because we don’t feel like offering proper healthcare or proper infrastructure to offer every living person the basic necessities of life

[kittensjonsa]

For @jonsa-week 's Day 1:

Greed ~ The Father (Justice) ~ Fave book quote (Jon, A Storm of Swords - pg 617)

Summary: Revenge was all he wanted and it didn’t matter how he got it. But Jon knew he had bitten off more than he can chew the moment he laid his eyes on Sansa Stark - daughter of the well loved and respected man in all of Westeros and recent widower turned priest, Ned Stark. 

Rated G, 2k+ words, may turn smutty. Angsty, a snippet of Jonsa, dark Jon and to be continued (maybe I don’t know yet..)

In The Name of The Father

Justice. It was all he wanted. The plans he had didn't have any room for any incidences. Nothing at all. Just get in, get it done and get out. He was prepared, or at least he thought so.

“Something troubling you, son?”

Jon jumped slightly at the call. Turning around slowly as calm and confident footsteps approached him, Jon managed a small smile of greeting. A small creak told him the priest had just taken a seat in the pew just behind his.

“Well, isn't everyone who comes here?”

A small grin and a chuckle escaped the sombre priest. “True. Aren't we all? Well if there's anything you need, confess or anything, I'll be right here.”

Confess. A heavy word worth its weight in guilt and remorse. He had a confession, truth be told but tonight was not the night. Oh the things he could tell, but he shouldn't. Not to Father Ned Stark.

“I'm sorry, Father.. but I'm afraid.. I'm not Catholic. I just came here to take a breather. It's very.. peaceful here.”

It wasn't prayer nor intercession he was after. Nor a minute of peaceful solitude. He had enough of those growing up alone.

Forgiveness. That was on his mind, the moment he stepped into the church. He feared he would vanish and spontaneously combust, on such sacred premises, for the vile things he had done but he guessed going to hell didn't work that way. Jon had a feeling he had one foot in it already.

“How could you? You animal!” Sansa's cries were acid, burning right through him.

“I fell in love with you! To think I gave you all of me, my heart was yours! A-and you.. you just stomped on it? How dare you even come here!”

“Sansa, you're not listening to me.. please just listen.”

Sansa shook her head and rubbed away at the tears that were flowing freely. Oh, how it hurts. She gave herself to him. All of her; mind, body and soul. She would do anything for him. Anything to make him happy. He was her best friend, her soul mate. But how could her feelings be so wrong?

Sansa screamed in anger as Jon stepped closer. She was done. The lies, oh God, the lies!

“No! Don't touch me! We are done! Don't ever come near me ever again! You.. are dead to me.”

No words had ever punched him in the gut like Sansa’s..Jon could only watch as Sansa ran away from him, driving off and leaving him alone by the river. The night was unbearably cold all of a sudden. Their favourite spot and where they kissed for the first time. He shouldn't care nor remember these things, but he did. Good lord, he did.

The stab that pierced through his heart was one he didn't expect. Perhaps he did love her too. .

But.. Mother. And Arthur.

He was greedy. Greedy for things to be set right. Greedy for vengeance. For vindication. But he had no right to break her heart. And for what it's worth, his too.

His happiness meant nothing if he didn't have any peace. One that would come in the aftermath of finally knowing who had taken everything away from him and getting payback. It was all that mattered. Wasn't it?

Maybe prayer was what he needed, subconsciously as what good left in him was desperately trying to claw its way out. But he didn't believe in God. What God would allow such things; what happened to his mother and Arthur, and more importantly to him, making him this way causing hurt and grief to someone he actually loved?

Pray then. Pray to your new Gods, and I'll pray to my old ones.

And they are Revenge, Betrayal and Blackmail.

Jon shut his eyes, remorseful for thinking such thoughts in such a place. But how hypocritical, it seemed to him, considering what he had done. And he had done enough. It stung him still, remembering how her warm tears dampened the palm of his hands. How her heartbreaking pleas shook him to his very core. Yes, he had done enough.

Jon could hear the priest's smile. A warm, genuine and kind smile. “Yes, I suppose it is. Well, not to worry we welcome everyone here.”

Sinners are we and sinners we shall die. None redeemed. At least not me, Jon thought.

“Thank you. It means a lot.”

His eyes shifted to the floor and held his head low before standing up to leave Jon alone. He had been a priest long enough to know when he was not needed. And it seemed to him this dishevelled young man, with dark eyes and unruly curls probably cherished his moment of solitude before he walked in.

“Nice to meet you then. I shall leave you in your peace. I'm Father Ned and I hope if you feel like you ever need a place to breathe, you'll come here.”

“Thank you Father Ned. I'll take you up on that offer.”

And perhaps.. more.

SIX MONTHS EARLIER

“What? What do you mean you can't tell me? What is it?”

Sam clicked the mouse and whirled his chair around to face Jon. He hoped he had better news to tell him.

“You've got to promise me you're not going anything stupid. You can't. Promise me, Jon.”

“All right. I promise. So go on then... Oh for fuck's sake, Sam! Out with it!”

Sam turned and tapped on the computer screen.

“That man you've been looking for all this while? The one you think had something to do with your mother's death? That's him right there. The private investigator sent me this.”

Jon grunted and glared at Sam before setting his gaze on the screen.

“So that's him. I've got to look for him then.”

“And do what Jon? Ask him questions, interrogate him? I know what's going through your mind and I think it's best if you don't.. do anything at all.”

Jon looked at the name again. And the stealth pictures that came with it. He needed to decide now. Closure, that's it. Though it puzzled him why Sam was so concerned. He knew how much he needed this. Sam, of all people.

“And why shouldn't I?”

“You're mad, angry, pissed off. You've been like this ever since you started this whole investigation thing. Dude, listen to me, just don't do it.”

“And isn't that the exact reason why I should? It's called closure, Sam. Besides, who the hell is h-”

“He's mother fucking Ned Stark, that's why!” Sam objected.

Ned Stark. I'll remember that name for as long as I live.

“So, who's he?” Jon asked, though he had heard of him before.

“You're kidding right? A Westerosi legend. The lawyer who brought the Boltons to their knees and best friend of the late President Robert Baratheon. How do you not know all this?”

Jon stared at the pictures once more and shrugged. Probably a good thing he didn't. Makes it all the more easier. He was too busy trying to survive the past twenty years or so, doing his best on the cold hard streets than to mind about politics or gossip.

“But.. it looks like he isn't one anymore. Or retired. I mean, look the photos. He's a priest, Sam.”

“Dude give that guy a break. He just lost his wife and his two sons. He's found God and maybe that's how it's supposed to be. I mean, come the fuck on, Snow!”

And I lost my mother.

Jon didn't like the tone in Sam's plea. Why should one man's redemption be more important than his poor mother's? A life snatched away from him much too soon. The years spent in foster homes, in the orphanage and trying to seek some form of solace and God forbid it, even love - was a painful sorrow no one would ever understand.

“Stop fucking telling me about this man! His life is no more important than what my mother could have had! You don't fucking tell me how that's like, Tarly. No one can and best you don't say anything about this anymore.”

“No, Jon I didn't mean that!  You know that. Come on, Jon! Jon!” Sam's words fell on deaf ears as Jon grabbed his coat and left. Nobody tells me what the fuck to do. Not Sam, not even God. Whoever the fuck they are, Jon screamed in his head.

Days went by without as much as a call from Sam, Jon knew he was smart enough to leave him be but still he wished they could talk. A text or two dinged but Jon chose to ignore them. He had more important things on his mind. Rubbing his tired eyes, Jon decided to call it a night from staring at the computer.

The research and probing had gotten a little too mundane, the more he learned about Ned Stark, the more he uncovered - which was really how Ned Stark was practically Captain Westeros, a well loved man, an upright citizen with morals of steel. There was not an ounce of dirt on him except one tabloid article years ago that depicted him leaving the scene of an infamous night club with the late former President Baratheon. But that was only because the former late President was a bad boy with bad habits, it wasn't really about Ned Stark per se.

How are you connected to my mother's death? Jon wondered. Something's gotta give, no one can be that good.

Jon needed to do something different, he needed more. He had set out to find the truth and right now, he'd do just about anything for it. Anything.

The Stark family radiated pure happiness and perfection, from the web portrait alone, one that rudely yelled out at him.

Such a pretty family.

It made him sick to his stomach, to think that that could have been a portrait of him and his mother and Arthur Dayne. His own family where he was loved and protected. Arthur wasn't family but he was the closest father figure he had in someone and the only confidante his mother trusted. Arthur probably loved his mother too, Jon was certain. They were happy and Jon's life was perfect. Just like the picture of the Starks.

Till a note found in his mother's cold dead hands with a scribbled 'Eddard Stark' destroyed everything he held dear.

And there he was, Father Ned Stark.

Ned Stark, a name that made a six year old Jon an orphan that day and since then he made a vow. Devoting the rest of his life to avenge his beloved mother. Even if it meant hurting someone along the way. He was more than willing and growing up fending for himself went on to equip him with the skills he needed. Jon had years in preparation for this.

They've got to pay, Mama. Someone has to.

“Sansa! Sans! There's someone here to see you,” Jeyne called out from the bottom of the stairs.

Sansa almost jumped and dropped the pencil in her hand. Good thing she wasn't writing anything important or else she'd have to rewrite the notes.

That's weird. Who could it be? Sansa checked her watch again and grunted at the time. It was going to be the third time she was late this week.

“She'll be right down. What was your name again? Jay, was it?”

Jon nodded with a smile. “Yes, it is. I'm actually here for the caretaker position? I believe it was posted in the jobs section in the papers.”

Jeyne eyed him warily. She didn't recall putting an advertisement out for anything lately. If Sansa did, she'd definitely inform her. Yet not even a mention of it. Jeyne didn't quite like the idea of strangers coming up to the Stark's private residence looking for jobs. Regardless of how dark and handsome they turn out to be. But then again, perhaps she might be taking her job as Sansa's personal assistant a little too seriously to care this much.

I'm sure it's nothing, just a guy looking for a job.

“I see. Sansa did mention once that they needed a caretaker here to help with house and the dogs. Though that might have been a few weeks ago and the applications are closed. But maybe she hadn't found one yet. So.. you're okay with dogs though right?”

Jon shrugged. “Dogs? Sure, I love dogs. I have one of my own. Ghost, his name is. Big large white dog. He's a good boy.”

Jeyne nodded approvingly. “Well, all right then. I have to go and leave you in Sansa's good hands. I was just here to collect some paperwork. Nice to meet you, Jay. Oh, and good luck!”

Jon waved a polite goodbye as he closed the door and resumed waiting by the stairs. Beads of sweat were pooling on his forehead. Jon inhaled deeply. So close. He was so close and everything was going according to plan. Jon knew he was at the right place and at the right time and he was mightily pleased with himself.

That is, until - he saw her. Sansa Stark.

“Jay? Hi, sorry to keep you waiting. I'm Sansa. Nice to meet you.”

Nice indeed.

Fuck.