#crow caws into the void | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sayakxmi · 7 months

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I finally got myself together to finish the trolltags/lands I have for the dancestors, that I overthought to hell and back, so why not share. Explanations under the cut!

(Also, I probably should mention that it's all in context of an AU, so if some things are confusing, that's why.)

KANKRI:

vendicateThumomacule [VT] Kankri's original trolltag is, well, grey to hide his indentity, and is actually a small nod to John/June. Hence the letters are VT, absolutely taken from VanTas. Mostly, because ectoBiologist has EB like EgBert. You know how these letters are taken from the genetic code, but John/June ended up breaking from it? Well, Kankri's the opposite here. The very first mutation, someone who didn't belong there, but inserted himself there anyway.

Vendicate means to claim for oneself, whereas Thumomacule comes from two words - thumomancy (divination by means of one’s own soul) and macule, which can be either a) (in printing) to blur, as from a double impression in printing, or b) (in anatomy) another name for macula (a discolored spot on the skin). The second definition refers to his mutation, while the first, I'm kind of thinking about blur/double impression as a reference to The Signless, and seeing visions of another world. Personally, I love the idea that Kankri's always had these visions as well, so that's what I was going for here.

As for constructiveGrievance, I'll be honest, I've seen it once upon a time, I don't know where, and internalized it as his trolltag. He has a lot of grievances, and tries to be constructive about it. (Whether he succeeds is up for debate, lmao).

As for his land, the Land of Conduits and Valves: Conduit: - a pipe or passage for water or electrical wires to go through - reference to Mituna (as I am a huge Captor&Vantas whatever the fuck they have going on enjoyer) - a way of connecting two places - the aspect of Blood - someone or something that provides a way of passing something such as information or payments from one person to another - role of a Seer, but also a small reference to The Signless again, passing information about different worlds between each other Valves - a device that opens and closes to control the flow of liquids or gasses, or a similar structure in the heart and the veins that controls the flow of blood - pretty obvious aspect connection.

In general, thinking about the Seers' lands, they all have somewhat... liquidy feel to it. Rose's has literal rain, while Terezi's land has these thought river-like things on the sky. So I was also thinking about something fluid, and, well, blood.

Kankri's land is pretty similar to Dave's, except there's no cogs or lava, only endless red-and-blue pipelines that are meant to let the blood flow, but the valves aren't letting it, and empty void beneath your feet. It's an extremly unpleasant land.

It's a bit of a theme, actually, that the lands are pretty hostile towards their players here - since the game was tampered wth, Skaia knew early on that this session had no chance at succeeding, so it was quite literally trying to get the players to make The Scratch faster. F.

It's actually quite evident since the get-go, Kankri's land is LOCAV. So. Random fact: I'm Polish. In Polish the way you read V in English is the same as we read W. So I could write it as CAW. A sound made by a crow. And, well. One Crow: bad luck, loss, unpleasant catastrophic changes.

From the very moment Kankri got into the game, it was already lost. RIP.

Also, I've meant what I've said. I aggressively overthought it, lmao.

DAMARA:

acroamaticAcicutie Acroamatic - esoteric - “intended for or likely to be understood by only a small number of people with a specialized knowledge or interest” - I was thinking about her ability to speak & control ghosts, a medium, but, yeah, honestly, it can also allude to the fact that as far as we know only Rufioh actually understands her speech. Acicula - One of the needlelike or bristlelike spines or prickles of some animals and plants; also, a needlelike crystal. Connected with cutie.

Land of Ponds and Shimmer, well, when it comes to Shimmer I was thinking about light reflecting on crystals, since her Scratch device looked like these music boxes on Aradia's land, so there had to be Some crystals in there. But it can also be the shimmer of the ponds. With ponds, I was kind of thinking about koi ponds? Who's stopping me from there being koi fish, tbh. The ponds are also a reference to Meenah, because, well, water. But also small one to Rufioh, I guess. Also, ponds and reflections (When will my reflection show who I am inside).

In general, Witches lands are, imo, pretty, colorful, and dangerous if you aren't careful. And that's also what I thought about Damara's land - looks very pleasant, but crystals can have some sharp edges, ponds be deeper that it has any reason to etc, etc.

But since all their lands make things difficult for the dancestors, the catch of this one is that it makes Damara homesick. :)

Ah, but here's my favorite part. PAS. Pas is Polish for fold in poker. "Folding simply means to let go of your cards and surrender the pot to another player". Or another set of players. ;>

RUFIOH

agromaniacalTauroboly Agromania - intense desire to be in open spaces Tauroboly - the ritual sacrifice of a bull. I like to think about is as a contrast to Tavros' trolltag, in which Tavros is a bit more of plot’s sacrificial bull, but his trolltag relates to bulls fighting, whereas Rufioh would wreck people’s shit if it wasn’t for his non-existent self-worth & confidence, but his trolltag relates to sacrificing a bull.

The Land of Breeze and Hills has a somewhat simple etymology. All the Breath player we know had some specific type of wind in their land's name (literally Wind for John/June, and Zephyr for Tavros), so I went with something similar. And boy oh boy, is Breeze a reference. Obviously, Breeze relates to water, and that way it references three pretty important gals in Rufioh/The Summoner's life - Damara (ponds), Meenah (a seadweller), and Aranea, or more specifically Mindfang, who was a pirate. As for Hills, Rogues tend to have some rises, like Roxy's pyramids, or Nepeta's... sugar cube pyramids? So I thought about hills for Rufioh to more or less fit it in, very much thinking about"a hill to die on".

BAH is kind of weaker, but at the same time, it gave me some ideas for the land. In several languages it means flood, but in a few others it's an expression of disbelief, disdain, resignation & scorn.

LOBAH is flooded, which is a huge pain for Rufioh, whose wings aren't really good for damp environments. His mobility sure is limited, which kind of sucks. He could probably ask some imps to help him out in travel, but that'd mean using his powers, and he's not a big fan of them. }:(

MITUNA

technicolorAlytarch Technicolor - a vivid or bright color “Alytarch in ancient Olympic games was the leader of the police force who assisted the Hellanodikai to impose fines on athletes who did not follow the rules” "Hellanodikai - literally meaning Judges of the Greeks - were the judges of the Ancient Olympic Games, and the success of the games was attributed to their efforts". I like the idea of it referring to more than one character, but ofc I thought of Latula first.

Land of Screens and Skyscrapers Skyscrapers as in heights & danger, at least that’s my association. Something about falls, especially when you're very high... Screening - concealing, protecting, sheltering. But also screening, as in “checking for disease when there are no symptoms. Since screening may find diseases at an early stage, there may be a better chance of curing the disease”. Also, fun fact, SAS is a group of highly trained British soldiers who work on secret or very difficult military operations. SAS is an abbreviation for 'Special Air Service'.” I wonder if it's relevant.

Heirs' lands tend to be really dark for some reason, but it's a bit difficul to say if it's a theme for them, because Equius' aspect is literally Void, so of course his land is dark. But I went for it. I'd say LOSAS resembles Dirk's land a bit, but there's also a shitton of giant screens on the building, all of them not working properly. The land is dangerous in it's nature, and generally not the most pleasant place to be in (ah, Doom players), but it sure gets worse after Mituna's accident, now that he has trouble seeing, and his balance also got quite bad. F.

MEULIN

acuteCardiograper Acute: - causes severe problems or damage; - pain or illness is one that quickly becomes very severe; - aware of or able to recognize small differences between things, or being accurate in judging something; The first two are more foreshadowing, whereas the last one is the actual intent. Since she's an amazing matchmaker whose speciality is the Hreat. Cardiography - the use of a machine to record the beating of the heart. So. You know. Hehe. Meulin's trolltag is an ad. Bonus a cute cardiographer.

Land of Lily Pads and Wisps Lily Pads are literally there in Openbound, but also I like the general symbolism of lilies - purity, innocence and rebirth. I think it describes Meulin very well. Wisps - of smoke, of light, but also will o' the wisp - a person that is difficult or impossible to reach or catch on (OR aurora). Of course even Meulin can't have nice things. Her land mocks her for being "useless". (Note: I'm not saying that she is, but that's how she feels). LOLPAW is not exactly deep.

PORRIM

gallivantAvantgarde Gallivant - to visit or go to a lot of different places, enjoying yourself and not worrying about other things you should be doing. Avantgarde - the painters, writers, musicians, and other artists whose ideas, styles, and methods are very original or modern in comparison to the period in which they live, or the work of these artists. Porrim's attitude, essentially.

Land of Threads and Frogs Threads like fabric, but also thread/fabric of the universe Also thread as in “to move forwards, often changing direction in order to avoid people or things”. Which is, well, what she was supposed to do. Another land that isn't exactly dangerous, but feels more like a mockery. Cluttered, soft & pastel. You could say ""girly"". She hates it here.

Maid's lands are pretty nice, though they tend to lack the aspect the Maid is supposed to create, at least that's what I've understood.

TAF - a substance, consisting of protein and nucleic acid developed in a malignant tumor, that stimulates the formation of capillaries for nourishing the tumor and carrying off its waste matter. A connection to Kankri, and especially The Dolorosa's role in The Signless' life.

LATULA

I'll be honest, I'm not exactly the proudest of hers, but this grl was giving me a headache at some point. Mostly when it comes to her trolltag, because I like the name of her land, but oh well. I was tired.

galiantCaballerial Galiant - “Galiant is a mixture of two words; Valiant (Possessing Courage and Determination), and Gallant (Grand, Fine). This is what you call someone who excels at anything they play, mainly videogames.” Urban Dictionary. I'm not sure it's the most believable source, but you know what, why not. If it's not really a thing, what's stopping me from headcanoning that it is on Beforus? Or add a small backstory that Liltula found that term & loved it, used for his trolltag & only later found out it's not a real thing. Now she's living a lie. Caballerial - a trick invented by Steve Caballero in the early 1980s in which the skater performs a 360-degree ollie in a ramp while riding fakie and without grabbing.

Land of Smoke and Mirrors Smoke and Mirrors - the obscuring or embellishing of the truth of a situation with misleading or irrelevant information. Other than the obvious, it's not a big discovery that the Knights' lands are filled with danger and even things they personally hate & fear. Mirrors for somebody as self-conscious and obsessed over her presentation? And also smoke. There might be fire somewhere, but she can't smell it, she won't know she's in danger until she gets closer to it. F. No cool meaning for SAM :(

ARANEA

amasthenicGraphomaniac Graphomania - a compulsive urge to write Amasthenic - uniting the rays of light into one focus, as a certain kind of lens does (in photography)

Land of Swirls and Candles Swirls - I was thinking about the weather, so connection to Breath, but also whirlpools, so connection to water. Extreme weather. Hella important in sailing. Etc. Also swirls & cherubs. Candles - light. Quite simple. LOSAC is essentially a gorgeous dark forest lit by candles, and Aranea is blind as shit in there. Did I mention that Skaia doesn't want them to keep going? :) Other than that: - Candle Queen by GUMI is such an Aranea song, you won't tell me otherwise. - one of the definitions of a SAC is "a covering that surrounds a tumor" i WoNdEr If It'S rElEvAnT

HORUSS

compoundTegument Tegument - natural covering of an animal or plant body Compound: - a thing that is composed of two or more separate elements; a mixture - make (something bad) worse; intensify the negative aspects of But Also - compound bow - A hand-drawn, hand-held bow that for similar poundage at full draw, stores more energy than a recurve bow through the use of two cables and two eccentric wheels

Land of Copper and Bolts Copper can be used in making steam engines. “Brown coins of low value made of copper or bronze”. And making electrical wires. “any of various small widely distributed butterflies of the genera Lycaena, Heodes, etc, typically having reddish-brown wings: family Lycaenidae” h u h Can mean “policeman”... Law reinforcement… Executioners… HMM. Bolts - well, bolts, but also arrowheads (in crossbows), also to quickly escape, and also (lightning)bolt, also A bolt is also a part of a gun that pushes the cartridge (= container filled with explosive powder) into position to be fired - I wonder if it its *gets shot* CAB - besides the obvious - “the enclosed compartment of a lorry, locomotive, crane, etc, from which it is driven or operated” - trains. steam. it’s all coming together “the glass-enclosed area of an airport control tower in which the controllers are stationed” listen, it works for me, but I can’t explain Why “first cab off the rank” - the first person, etc, to do or take advantage of something - like. the first person to take advantage of somebody’s malleable and passive personality…?

Steampunk land. What can I say. Downside: them damn bolts everywhere. You can hurt yourself :<

KURLOZ

tumultuousCaduceator Tumultuous - chaotic or disorderly; full of noise, commotion, or turbulence. Caduceator - herald; messenger Also similar to Caduceus (prolly related), so a relation to Mituna who is a Gemini - Gemini is ruled by Mercury (Hermes’ Roman name, the Caduceus belonged to him) So it’s a mixed bag of relations to others: tumultuous is a relation to Caliborn (there’s even a wholeass Sign of the Tumultuous - Caniborn). Herald/messenger is akin to Kankri’s role of a prophet. Except he’s heralding Lord English’s arrival rather than another Signless’. And, well, the Mituna connection. It’s also a Doom connection, lmao.

Land of Pits and Thrills You have this huge never-ending theme park with random pits where you least expect them, cartoonish experience. In general, Princes' lands tend to be extremely dangerous in ways that relate to their aspects, and, well, cartoon-like traps break the immersion a bit, really makes you think about everything being fake. Plus a theme park doesmake one think about the HS clowns a bit, right? Another one of my faves, PAT means a stalemate in Polish - a situation in chess where one of the players can’t move according to the rules, but their king isn’t in check - it ends the game in a draw. Technically, they haven't lost, and yet they cannot progress :o)

CRONUS

corbanAlluvion Corban - offering to God in fulfillment of a vow / kinda thinking abt it regarding Cronus wanting to fulfill his “destiny” Allivion - effect of water impacting on shoreline (eg. deluge) Was I tempted for Cronus to have his trolltag as cronusAmpora? Yes. Absolutely. But in the end I decided to pretend that I Am A Serious Writer.

Land of Tides and Rows Tidal island - a piece of land that is connected to the mainland by a natural or man-made causeway that is exposed at low tide and submerged at high tide Also changing tides. Row - well, rowing, so water travel. This land looks quite nice on the first glance, but once you start to travel you find out, that the further you go, the darker and more dangerous it becomes. Oh no. Also, the water is definitely tainted. TAR - a dark, thick flammable liquid distilled from wood or coal, consisting of a mixture of hydrocarbons, resins, alcohols, and other compounds. It is used in road-making and for coating and preserving timber. But also as a verb: blame or damage the reputation of (someone).

MEENAH

cerescentConqueror Conqueror - obvious Cerescent - a typo she didn’t care to correct; crescent is a phase of the moon (halfmoon); Ceres is a roman goddess of harvest etc.

Land of Passages and Harvest Passages as literal passages, but also in: passage of time, or passing = death, so a relation to Damara. And Harvest is, well, harvest. In general, the only other Thief we have is Vriska, and her land is essentially "things that help in stealing her aspect" and "something that represents her aspect". In this case, then, you need to let the time pass for harvest to begin. Also, I love the idea that all Life Players have some representation of the other players on their planet, just like Jane's lamps. In this case, Meenah has flowers. I have yet to finish it, but I did assign some already. PAH - used to express disgust or contempt. Aka Meenah's reaction when she first saw her bright colorful land full of flowers.

Final notes: - ok, so, the idea for LOLPAW, Thrills in Kurloz's land & Avantgarde for Porrim's trolltag are from kanmeu, Caballerial is 100% an accident, though, when I've found that word I thought it looked familiar, and Oh. - I might fix the formatting tomorrow, idk, but it sure ain't gonna be now.

#homestuck #kankri vantas #damara megido #rufioh nitram #mituna captor #meulin leijon #porrim maryam #latula pyrope #aranea serket #horuss zahhak #kurloz makara #cronus ampora #meenah peixes #dancestors #hs: pfh #today on the “things nobody asked for”#but also i did mention at some point that i was working on this & finally sat down & finished

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rise-my-angel · 1 month

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Heart of the Great Wolf

40 - Darkness Heavy in a World

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

Length: 13.4k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, disturbing imagery, past character deaths, implied sexual encounters, inferences to smut, unknown illnesses, medical distress, discussion of betrayal

Notes: Important to remember that the messages and omens of greendreams are not always as obvious as they appear initially. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

Fire was all around, there was nothing beyond your sights but a rich darkness illuminated distantly by signs of a bright sight. Figures nothing but black, nothing but shadows and yet it was not them which led you here from where you felt you had been trapped in a dark inescapable void. The sight of the raven was which you first saw, feathers dripping in blood as it flapped their wings looking to you.

Footsteps slow as you came towards it and yet the moment your hand outstretched to see if such blood was true, it flew off into the black distance. Beckoning you once more, the only other feeling creeping up on you was eyes watching from above. Another bird, a crow with three eyes watching as the bloody red raven guided you out of the path.

That was when the fire crackling built and built until you stepped out into the sand. The sight one you knew but not as it occurred. Idols on the beach of your home, the raven landing on the top of one as if unaffected of the statue engulfed in fire, the crow another as if to place you in between the burning. That was the only other sights beyond shadows in the distance. One standing before them all as a voice did not speak from it, but echo in the airs above as if on another plane of existence you could not see.

“Lord of Light, come to us in our darkness. We offer you these false gods. Take them and cast your light upon us. For the night is dark and full of terrors.”

Voices responded from the shadowy figures and your pacing towards them made none clearer, they were all dark even against the lights of fire. None shifted an inch and none moved at your closeness, one stood before them all. Twisted like smoke radiated off of them, tendrils creeping towards one figure you still could not see. Your feet however, landed in the trappings of them, circling your leg before snatching at your wrist, burning even through the misty black.

"Darkness will fall heavy upon the world. Stars will bleed. The cold breath of winter will freeze the seas, and the dead shall rise in the North.”

Closer and closer it crept and you felt the fire burning the idols surround you as so did the tendrils wrapping. The voice you had realized as the figure invaded your space, the manipulation the air of seduction in works and fanaticism but it was you she tried to drag towards in the darkness.

“In the ancient books, it's written that a warrior will draw a burning sword from the fire. And that sword shall be Lightbringer. Warrior of light, your sword awaits you.”

It was a false act, drawing away as if to offer you the freedom to walk but your feet did not carry on a path you chose, but walked regardless. Tendrils only stretching tight around you to force you back if needed. Up to the statue of the burning idol did you look bright eyed at the sword plunged in it. Reaching with your bare hands the fire did not burn as the mists touch, and the moment your hand touched metal did the tendrils leave you, a shadow in the shape of a man yielding the burning sword held high in the air as it left you behind, the fires flowing down your hand.

The crow and the raven watching, your hand did not feel the flames as it burned, nor did it engulf you in pain nor terror. You stood on the beach of shadows, burning as the idols did and yet as they melted you kept the light from your very skin all over.

But the raven and the crow both cawed, as something crept up. Not black nor tendrils but the shaking cold you recognized with terror. But it was not such a sight you turned too. The white cold sat in a form misting just as the red woman did in a form of shadows, but it stood on it's own without the feeling of terror. Somehow, the cold in the air coming from the mist was warm as it seemed to flow towards you, the feeling of it circling your wrist looked a tendril but grasped your burning skin in the feeling of a hand and in such the same instance did both birds begin to call out in caws.

The sky changing as the cold mist surrounded you, fire still lit but now a shield of white cold hiding you from the flyings of the world until it landed you. Once more dark was all around you, but there were pillars of ice in the middle of the snow you stood on. Only black surrounded your vision, but each step you took looking at it looked a flat ice slab sat in the middle of it, carvings within which you could not make out.

The cold whipped wildly around, and just as your hand reached to trace over them, did the blood red wings of the raven take your vision, perched where you were looking, as it cawed so loud it startled you back. The fire nor white cold around you protected from the freezing over taking.

But it was figure you turned around too, tall with eyes blue as crystals and in the same moment you jumped back, the bloody raven cawed wildly once more. The crow with three eyes watching from the darkness, cawing and cawing the raven yelled as the eyes stepped closer. The bloody raven landing on your shoulder and cawing so loud you felt something shake through your veins, and it was then which you flew up in bed with an aggressive gasp of air. Briefly not understanding how you got from the meeting hall of Winterfell to here, nor why your mother was worried watching over you, now trying to calm your sudden wakening panic.

It took seconds for air to return, as it did your memory to fill in the blanks of what came in the hours before such a dream.

You were fairly certain you had not looked nor blinked from the same spot your eyes were stuck on for almost twenty minutes. Everything inside you seemed to stop as you put the connections together the more Jon laid it all out. It was clear why he had kept so much of this to himself, he had an immense amount of moving parts to look at and determine.

He and Maester Wolkan were the only ones who truly knew anything about it, others including yourself only were a small part in putting it together, but you still hadn't come to the conclusion of why. Why do any of this? Why put so much effort into this plan when there was so little gain yet so much cost?

Jon hadn't sent you to learn information he didn't know, he had sent you to confirm the conclusion he had already put together. He needed more then one source to affirm it was the truth before he considered how to act. Sat on the opposite side of the table, your elbow had kept your staring gaze propped up on your palm as your nails mindlessly dug into the skin of your lips. Arya adjacent to you, paced back and forth working herself up, leaving Jon on the other side where you were. Standing firm and collected to even out the vastly opposite reactions playing out before him.

The frustration in Arya's tone was evident. “I knew I didn't trust him. He always rubbed me the wrong way, even then.” Jon trying to call her name firmly, but she continued as if she hadn't heard. “He's already Roberts Lord Father, he almost controls the Vale himself. Why butt in on the North's business, he has nothing to do with us.”

If an answer sat on your mind, it worked against your mouth and throat to try and form it to words.

Jon however, had an answer for you. “Maybe almost isn't enough for him.” Your brows narrowed slightly, but let the two wolves converse between the other without interruption. Jon elaborating on what likely was a questioning expression on Aryas face. “He's the only child of a minor House, if he's gotten this far already, maybe he doesn't want to stop.”

Sighing deeply, Arya approached Jons side of the room, her arms now crossed from what you could see as she approached the raven scrolls which started this entire debacle. “He doesn't have any connections to the North though. What's the point of trying to ruin things here when we're the only ones who could help give him what he wants?”

Once more, Jon already put the pieces together. “He doesn't want our help. We've never been anything but in his way. He gets rid of the Starks he can't control, and it'd be a lot easier to manipulate his way into the North.”

Moving, both your elbows now sat on the wooden surface, hands wrung together as your forehead found a place against them. The pressure doing little for what was starting to feel like screeching in your head. Whenever you expected him least, Petyr Baelish wormed his slimy way back into ways of backstabbing the Starks.

Were you to lay such a plan out, it would be immense by now. Arya thought of that as well. “You can't set this up overnight, it'd take ages to do. You both wouldn't even have been married by then, why would he already know to get in between you?”

Finding your voice, low and strained as it was, you dropped your hands down to the table. Looking between Arya and Jon with a defeat in your gaze. “He would have found out I'm alive, and likely somewhere along the way one of his spies told him Jon and I were working together in moving against the Boltons. That's all he needed to know where he and I were heading together.”

Jons brows narrowed, not with any doubt, but a question low on his breath. “Why?”

You didn't even need a deeper inhale this time, there was little left of any sort of surprise between you and Jon by this point. Head tilting a bit, your tone was on the frustrated side but slid closer to acceptance. “When your father and I were getting close to uncovering Cersei's secret, Littlefinger tried to intimidate me into silence.” Jons expression however, twisted right from posed on confused right into an anger you knew would be the inevitable as you explained. “He thought it would scare me into staying quiet, if he implied he might let it slip that he knew about you and I. That we were..close before.”

The grey in Jon's eyes tinted darker as did the sharpness in his gaze just as you expected. Arya, her own offence much more obvious in her own incredulous expression in addition to the raise in her voice. “Guess he isn't as smart as he thinks he is, if he thought that was going to work.”

Nodding a slight bit to her, she had a point. It didn't, not even for a second did it work. Not when Jon was the one insistent on keeping everything he loves in one place again. “If he wants the North, Jon and I ruling it together is the worst case scenario for him. He knows he can't muster anywhere near enough loyalty here for anyone up against both of us together. Easier to do that if we're apart.”

Interrupting low, Jons hands braced on the table with a far more stressful weight now adorning across his shoulders. “Or if one of us goes back to being dead.” With your eyes wide and uncertain, but his dark and stern, it was a mixture realizing for you, that the Brotherhood was no coincidence. That was why Stoneheart was sure of what she said was true.

The source she got it from, was one she'd trusted one too many times before. Once more, even in the state of death she lived in now, the man knew exactly where to instigate the worst of her, beacuse he of all people obviously knew Jon was once Catelyn's biggest sore spot. So he exploited it, and used you as means to do so.

It didn't matter the truth Jon really knew now, Catelyn Starks hatred of Jon still followed him all the same.

Your brows narrowing for a moment, finding Jons gaze once more. “Something still doesn't make sense. Even if he succeeded in getting rid of me, he knows after everything he's done he would never be able to get you to trust him. No one until she got here even knew Arya was alive. What would he even have planned to do, if you never figured this all out?”

Jon had the answer to that too. And as it turns out, being a man raised by Eddard Stark taught him that there's not much honour in being a liar. But Jon by this point in his life, had found the second reason to be truthful upfront. If the wrong people hear your lie, they could dismantle it piece by piece without you even realizing they had done so.

Ser Royce had spoken something about Littlefinger arriving at the Vale with his bastard in toe, to move into the home he was about to marry into. Lady Arryn suddenly dies, leaving in control of the highest order of the Vale to the young Robin Arryn, under the guidance of Petyr Baelish and the family member he took there with him.

Arya asking quietly, “I don't understand, what does that have anything to do with-”

But your eyes had widened, and looked up to meet Jons knowing one. No wonder he kept this all to himself until he was sure. Your eyes slipped shut with a shaking exhale as Jon leaned forward for only you three to hear. “Littlefinger doesn't have a bastard. There was no written record of them until they showed up at the Vale with him,” Your eyes found his once more and suddenly whatever reunion might have been, was no longer one looking like it could be dreamt with hope.

Petyr Baelish didn't just not have a bastard child. But Alyane Stone didn't even exist until after Jofferys murder.

Many discussions of what to do later, and in the quiet aftermath when some time had passed, a warm hand made it's way around the back of your neck, caressing with just a soothing amount of pressure before the same warmth came close. Jons free hand sliding across to tilt your head enough to the side his leaned down form, could reach to press his lips firmly against the side of your head. Your eyes slipping closed at the feeling with a sigh, did he keep his grip massaging the muscle right at the back of your neck and sitting in the spot close next to you.

Murmuring quietly, you leaned more into the gentle sound of his rasping voice. “Darling,”

Glancing over to him, you pretended not to notice Arya pretending she hadn't just been staring at the pair of you. Only in his little sisters company alone, did Jon feel comfortable enough to be more openly gentle with you as he liked. Glancing to him, eyes bright and the greys stood out as concerned as they always looked these days. Speaking quietly, your own hands tensed in flexing trying to distract your nerves. “I still don't understand where she fits into all of this. What she has to gain from trying to get between us.”

A sigh left Jon, hand sliding from your neck just further enough his thumb could brush your jaw and sensitive skin at your neck, eyes drifting downward to the rest of you. Not with any greed, but a concern and a need that radiated an affection more then anything else. He already knew what Daisy had told you, but he needed to hear the answer from somewhere but what he put together between he and Wolkan alone. “She hated my father.”

Eyes drifting for a moment, you bit your tongue trying to find the same logic, only to come up short. “Then why betray you so openly, but not Robb? You're both your fathers sons.”

Attention elsewhere, it passed your notice, Aryas head shooting up from where she was across the room and watching the pair of you with keen eyes. Jon hadn't found it in him to want to discuss it the past week or so since you've been back, leaving Arya with no idea as to if you knew the truth about him or not. But, Jons attention was squarely on you, missing her watchful gaze as well.

“Hard to back stab someone when they're thousands of miles away from you. It's a lot easier when you can sit in the same room as him.” Nails turning to dig into the wood below you rather then into the palms of your hands, you couldn't quite get there this time. Something was missing, and you couldn't tell if Jon didn't know what it was, or if he was keeping it to himself until necessary. He hadn't quite been walking on eggshells around you, but he had been treating you more delicately for days on end now. Not afraid of breaking you, but perhaps not willing to weigh you down with too much when you were sitting there asking for it regardless.

Arya hadn't quite been as insistent as Jon, but she still did similar things. And the amount of times Ghost would follow you no matter what? You weren't complaining about it, but you certainly were beginning to feel as if wolves on either side were circling around you every day.

Jons rasp bringing you back to the world, just as much as the feeling of his hot breathe dancing across your neck. Thumb trying to tilt you back to face his direction more. “If you have something you want to say, you know I'd rather you just tell me, right?” A hum of question in your throat, but Jon only moved to try and tilt you more to see part of his profile. “My decision, if you don't agree-”

“I do.” Turning to look at him, your eyes hoping confidence sat convincingly in them. “You're King, Jon. Your decision is your decision and that's the end of it.”

His brows furrowed, a frown more on his face as unfair as it was, the troubled look the on him you were more used too. Voice a bit on the rough side trying to stay quiet. “That's not what I mean. You shouldn't agree with me beacuse of that. I'd rather hear what you have to say before I do something.”

A familiar feeling grew in your chest. How frustrating it was that Jon wouldn't simply force your hand on things. It would be easier on him if he accepted that you'd always follow where he leads. Regardless of what it meant or where you would be taken. But that wasn't what Jon liked to hear, and you'd rather not get into such a sensitive subject in front of Arya anyways. So you tried placating him without causing any disruption in his thought process. “I know, but it means I trust in what you do. If you think this is the right way to handle this, then that's what we do.”

Only a flashing pass dashed across Jons eyes, but you caught it all the same. This was not the last of this specific conversation. Sighing a bit, you could see his eyes flickering between yours and down then back and a twisting formed behind his head you still struggled to read. He had too much on his shoulders.

Surprisingly though, Jon turned slightly to face Arya. “Can you give us a moment?”

Her own eyes darting between you, she agreed without much thought on it. The door slowly closing behind her, leaving just the crackling of the fire on another side of the room to fill the void. Until it was Jon pushed up from his limited movement on the seat to crouch in front of you. Cupping your cheek properly as his other hand ran along your upper arm. Trying to placate him before he could speak, “Jon-”

But he shook his head, eyes narrowed slightly. “No, I want you to listen. My opinion isn't more important then yours. I meant it when I said I didn't marry you to have a Queen. I married you beacuse I've wanted to marry you since I was a boy. My word isn't final beacuse it's the most important. It's final beacuse it's my duty to make sure everyone around me has advised me and led me to the right thing to do. And that includes you.” The thumb running over the skin of your cheek, barley did you notice Jon moved to cup the side of your face more. Not realizing in your notice, how much you had begun leaning into his touch instinctively. The thumb on your arm taking it's spot of soothingly running back and forth, just a little firmer so you could feel it under the layers.

Opening your mouth for a moment, you then closed it with a drop of your shoulders. Before repeating the pattern again and only at the very last second finding your voice. One of your hands reaching up to where his sat on your arm. Without breaking his gaze on your eyes, Jon moved to hold your hand as much as he could, now slipping out to cover yours and keep it in his larger, warmer hand.

The other still debating it's role as your voice slowly put the thoughts together. “Sometimes I worry, perhaps a little too much.” Your brows lifting for a moment almost to make a jesting point of obvious, and heart warming at how easily it brought a breathy chuckle out of him. “I don't want you to think any of that means I disagree with you. The last thing I want is for you to assume my anxieties over something is a question of your judgment.”

Jon though, continued making things difficult by being too soft and reasonable for your insecurities own good. He knew you too well, it wasn't fair. “Ser Alliser once said to me that if the person in charge start's questioning his own decisions, it's the end for him, and everyone else. But he was wrong. If something you say, Arya says, anyone out there says that makes me stop and question what I'm about to do?” His thumb running over the back of your hand he held. “It means other people are also making sure I'm doing the right thing. If everyone blindly agrees with me beacuse I'm King, that's not really leading. That's just..subjugating.”

In truth, it just slipped right out before your sensibility could stop it. “Big word for an unruly brute.” His eyes narrowed right away but the playfulness shined just as quick and bright.

Leaning into you, he slipped from your cheek to pulling at your waist to turn towards him more, the faintings of a smirk trying to hide on both your faces. His words deep and rough and entirely exaggerated with the direct purpose of making you laugh. “Not the only thing about me that's big,”

Your grin was instant, the need to laugh evident in your wavering voice. Trying to move away but Jon grinned brightly right as he pulled you back to him. “You're an idiot.”

Jon though, didn't waver in his playful glint in smile and eyes. Leaning forward, he moved to hold the back of your head as he leaned closer to your personal space, enough you once more felt his breathe along you with each word. Muttering back, “You're the one who married me, darling. What's that say about you?”

More at ease then most of the day, your hands danced up his torso until they found his shoulders, toying with the curls fallen loose throughout the hours passing. A small shrug as you dropped much of the tone, leaving a fairly raw affection in it's wake. Jon's expression fell too, much the same as you murmured. “That I'm blinded by how in love with you I am?”

That time, you leaned forward to gently press your lips to his. Jon cupping your cheek firmly with his other hand as he deepened it in mere seconds. Only able to pull away before his own need sent him right back into your kiss of his own accord. Stopping to tilt your head down, and press his lips finally to your forehead.

His words not at all matching the gentle, tender way he held you. “Or we're both just idiots.”

The sound of ink scratching across paper had been the only sound to accompany you for some time now. Back and forth between there and the ink bottle before once more scratching being the only sound you could focus on. You had wanted to get these done earlier, but you had been amusingly interrupted by a certain direwolf.

Ghost had approached you, moving to place something down at your feet as he all but smiled as much a wolf could. Looking down, there was a bloody and freshly killed smallish fox, likely no more then a few minutes old. A panting as he shuffled on his feet, you almost laughed. Unable to stop yourself though, from reaching forward. Your hands running along his fur near his ears until Ghost shook out happily from the sensation. A low grumble in him as he seemed to gesture down to the small animal again.

Sighing out, you wasted no hesitation picking it up blood and all as you stood. Noting by then, Ghost almost came up to your chest he had grown so large since those first days you knew him. A nod of your head to the hall, you spoke quite casually as you walked through with a bloody animal. “If this was your attempt at a gift, the thought is quite sweet. But if this is your way of telling me you want me to cook it for you, then you are just taking advantage of my kindness.”

Leaving it with the cooks, Ghost almost whined as you turned to leave. Glancing at it before you once more, almost nudging you in the abdomen. Uncharacteristic for being around a number of people, the direwolf normally preferring to stand back and watch when many were there. Managing to snag a few slices of whatever was currently cooking, you tossed one to Ghost before having a bite yourself of the other.

Raising an eyebrow as if to ask if he was satisfied and finally he and you left to return to your work without much more fuss. Now sitting dutifully by the window, Ghost looked as white as the snow around Winterfell from where you could see. Still was strange, how much he was everything that the North represented in one direwolf.

Ears perking up, he turned to look behind you before settling any aggression possibly growing as a rumble came about near the door frame somewhat behind you. “You waiting for me to come back for anything exciting to happen again?”

Turning halfway to around, your eyes switching from narrow to amused and brighter you let a smirk easy fall on your face. An eyebrow raising as did your tone, “I think perhaps you and I have very different definitions of exciting.”

Tormund has been busy, his people settling around the Gift and having to navigate being looked to as the one who leads them, he had to settle them and prepare them. All the while knowing his place belonged more working at Jons side, both being the ones representing the different aspects of the North now. He had been playfully offended that you chose to get yourself kidnapped while he had been gone, jesting that he could have played saviour to the damsel in distress instead of Jon for once.

Though, you supposed missing out on that incident was more then made up for that same week he returned. Only gone a few days this time, but you found it strange but relieving that there was not the nerves in his presence you feared you'd feel after it.

Shaking his head in a playful doubt, Tormund came more into the room. Pacing about at his usual striding leisure, giving you the chance to turn back to once more scratching away. “I've seen you enjoy yourself, pretty crow. You're too stubborn to admit you should have fun more often.” If he caught the flush behind the jesting roll of your eyes, he knew you better by now then to comment.

Coming to lean against the edge of the desk you sat at, arms crossed he looked down at you with a squinting gaze. Your own resolve unaffected by the staring from him, especially by that point. You worked until he chose to the one to fill the gap of silence. “Knew weird things happened to you, but this is the first time I've heard one of you proper Southerners having green dreams.”

Your head flew up to him in an instant, brows narrowed enough you almost felt dizzy, as you dropped what was in your hand. “You know what they are?”

Nodding with a but of a shrugging shoulder, Tormund elaborated with a surprising steadiness. “I told you once, shit happens north of the Wall you'd never believe. Not the only one I've heard of that sees the future in their dreams. Just the first of your people.”

In honestly, it didn't look mocking or questioning or even judgmental. He sounded as sure as he did for the truths of horror you all knew was beyond too. Turning your head away, you considered for a moment before your nails started tapping nervously at the wood. Catching his glance, you grimaced and relented. Not really knowing what more you had to hide about what was happening. “It isn't just the future. It's the past too. Sometimes I'm walking through it..other times it's like I'm seeing it through someone elses eyes..sometimes they're just dreams that feel more like riddles then a message.”

“Maybe it's both.” That did not make you feel better. Turning once more to glance up at him with a more irritated gaze, he had the audacity to smirk. “Gods don't like doing anything that's easy. More fun watching us run around like chickens until we either figure it out or get our heads chopped off.”

Eyes flickering to the side, you muttered a bit on the dry side, “Not sure I quite grasp your comparison there, but I see what you mean. They'd rather I figure it out without their help.” Pausing, you glanced up at him once more. “Are you in here for a reason, or just disturbing my work for the fun of it?”

Tormund, as one could expect, found little care in hiding exactly what he thought. “Snow's making his way up, figured I could use this chance to make him jealous.” Asking with a breath of a laugh for what, he narrowed his expression at you as if you should already know. “He trusts me, and he trusts you but he doesn't trust me alone with you anymore.”

An easy laugh came out that time, putting things to the side as you moved to stand. “Can't imagine why that is.” Leaning against the same desk, your hip pressed to it as another hand braced somewhat against the chair as you heard a deep rumbling laugh from the man.

Eyes drifting to the side, losing yourself in the sights and sounds of a memory only recalled back to the world at a lower rumble a few steps closer to you in wonder. “Still with me, pretty crow?”

Your answer however, was not what he expected. “What did Mance Rayder want with the Horn of Winter?” Taken back, you pressed onward with the same tense look in your eye. “He had his people looking for it, he came to Winterfell looking for it. What did he want with it?”

It likely had been a while since Tormund thought anything of it. Moving to lean against the desk from his back once more, arms crossed searching his memory. Voice trailed further as he spoke. “Said he wanted to use it with the crows so our people could cross the Wall.”

Your voice, was rather quiet and so was his. “Do you believe that?”

“I believe Mance wanted us to believe that. What he really was going to do with it? Who knows.” Your gaze finding nothing in particular, but the sights of a long gone Stark hiding it from the man for reasons you couldn't still fathom. “Knew him for decades, doesn't mean I had a clue what went through his head.”

But you couldn't shake the feeling. The oddity of everything which kept coming from the far North and how it all connected in some manner which made hardly any sense. “They say it can bring down the Wall.”

Once more though, for everything he had seen, sometimes Tormund surprised you with the way he approached the world. You suspected had he been born on your side of the Wall, he'd be a skeptic of such things. Yet he spoke of them as if stories of such strange Northern magic were heard all his life. “If it were that simple someone would've found it and burned it long before Mance ever went searching. Most nothing about the Others is that easy.” It certainly seemed that way.

The thought was odd as it came to you, but dreams of a silhouette against cold touches of freezing wind passed through your mind, almost muttering to yourself. “Maybe winning this won't be as easy as a fight then, either.”

If Tormund intended on asking what you meant by it, a certain figure interrupted and just as Tormund had suspected, there was a far more dark colour in Jons grey eyes and a rougher tone short in nature as he beckoned you to come with him for something.

There was no threat in leaving you two alone together, but Tormund enjoyed watching Jon squirm all the same.

Whatever these things you were seeing meant, it all confused everything you presumed you already knew. In more then one way. Only, you had little opportunity to think of what it meant, you barley thought of it in a long time.

More then simply a few months, and this wasn't visions or dreams or anything you had come across in your or Jons own journeys. This was something else, these were somehow chilling words of something far worse to you then a mystery storm beyond north. This was something red, and terrible. Something that only ever took from you and refused to give anything back.

It was late into the afternoon when most in the hall had cleared. Giving your resolve just the right amount to find it in you to say something. “Ser Davos?” Coming more near you, almost in nerves, you wrapped the shall around your front even more, keeping your hands and arms hidden away as they tensed over and back. He watched you stammer between breaths for a moment.

Eyes catching the stragglers, not staring but almost as if you didn't want to seem more out of your mind in front of them. Or perhaps, you were trying not to look back at the two Starks who you'd fear thinking that even more. Clearing your throat a bit, Ser Davos guided you to the side just a bit, keeping your voice further from the echos of the room. “Do you remember that day in the field? During the war?”

Nodding, he didn't beat around the bush and you were thankful for it. “Couldn't not remember. Was the last time I thought I'd have ever seen you again.” Head dropping just a bit, you couldn't tell if it was a smirk or a grimace but you found not judgment in his eyes but an understanding. “Wasn't one I liked looking back on, certainly not with thinking that's how we would always be.”

Your eyes searched for the sights and it was clear as day. Still, she was terrible and red. Draped in it like fire and looking deep into your eyes as if she had any rights to say she knew what was to come. She didn't know, not a thing. She had no right and you still wished you finished her that day atop the wall for what she implied.

More like a whisper, you still did not meet his gaze. “Do you remember what she said? The red woman?”

Head jolting back a bit, “To you?” Nodding in confirmation, he twisted his face looking back on it but not with the stretch you had. “She said it more then just that day, your grace. It's what she'd tell your father over and over. Convincing him you'd come back to his side, claiming all that she saw in her flames.” Ser Davos held the same edged blade against his words as you felt in your beating heart.

A man who looked back on her like the monster she was as you do.

But you had to know. “She said it was something she saw in the flames. Not anywhere else, not something she read or heard..just what she saw herself..” Your gazes met and a widening unsettled look painted across your face while your voice lowered. “So there would be no way someone would know what she said that day, without her being the one to repeat it?”

“I doubt it. She'd say her god was speaking to her, and I've never known anyone else to claim any of those things she did.” But that made you feel worse. That, made your head spin dizzy. Or, was the room the one spinning?

Coming forward, an arm reached out as if ready to steady you when your hand shot out to grasp the top of the chair closest to you both. “Your grace?”

Your head shook, trying to tell him it was fine, but the room still spun as did your heart start to race enough it hurt. You could hear her voice, you could hear the angry way Robb defended you from her words and you heard the strangers voice with something only the red woman knew. Something only she had ever called Robb by your side. When it was the world closed around you, you weren't sure but it felt as if your heart would stop and then start too fast to keep up.

Whatever else anyone said muffled as if your head sunk under the water, and you heard only the red woman until you heard nothing else, and saw nothing else either. Only the visions of dreams you had of fire, a strangers skin crawling gaze, and of something whispering to it in red of things long thought never came true.

To Jon, he may as well have been thrusted back in time twenty years. The circumstances all too similar and all too terrifying in his mind. Eyes and discussions all too busy to notice anything out of the ordinary until through a lull of quiet did everyone hear the concerned tone of Ser Davos cutting through the air.

Only this time, as soon as Jon spotted the waver in your stance, the manner in which you gripped the top of the chair beside you as if to steady yourself, he practically had already made his way to you instantly. Surprised and concerned murmurs rippling though those still there, as Jon grabbed you the second you lost your balance.

Everyone moved his way, as Jon gently knelt more to the ground to shift his grip for you more supportingly but nothing could stop the raging burst of panic which seemed to explode within him. A gentle calling of your name as he ran a hand over the side of your face but you didn't open your eyes or even give an indication you heard him.

Anyone who was not Jon or Maester Wolkan was told to leave the moment Jon gently laid you down on his bed. Theon hovering by the door with a hesitation which he seemed to spend a great deal of effort to make appear as calm, his voice a little less so with a question in his tone. “Your grace?”

Jon however, barley even turned around to face him, sparing hardly a glance as he roughly muttered out, “Find Selyse for me, let her know what happened.” Only as Theon tried to find any more words, Jon turned away back to where he was leaned somewhat over the bed as Wolkan had taken up his work opposite side to him. A rough dismissal leaving Jon a bit harsher then Theon knew he intended. “Now, Theon.”

Nodding, he turned to leave. The unease in his throat as he swallowed closing the door behind him, only to find somewhat of a comfort that those who remained seemed to share the same quiet concern as the rest of him. If something once might have been on his tongue sharply, it came out none in mind nor words. Just moved swiftly passed the remaining onlookers before it became clear how much it bothered him.

Inside the now closed room, Jon could only hope he wasn't coming off as impatient as he watched Wolkan look you over. But the image was too close. Another time, another Maester looking over you after collapsing unconscious to the ground and his heart raced too much to not begun to hurt. You didn't look nor feel feverish, but he couldn't take it all the same. The strange pull in his heart when Maester Luwin said you may not make it through the night was nothing compared to standing here now.

Something overwhelming seemed as if it overtook every inch of his brain, the worst case scenarios one after the other and it only made his blood pump harsher, his lungs tightening in response. Without you, Jon was lost. He couldn't do this, any of this without you. The entire reason he could stand here now was beacuse of you. No god nor power brought him back, only you.

Jon had drive, focus, determination and a purpose and he'd never stop fighting. But Jon knew without you he had no real life, nothing there to keep his heart grounded on earth. Wolkan didn't appear to be as worried as Luwin had that day all those years ago, but Jon could not keep from letting his mind scream of the worst things which could happen. You were right, he had never stood in the real, physical world and seen your body that night and he couldn't handle doing it now.

Had he blinked? He wasn't even sure. His muscles ached from how tense every part of him stood as, trying desperately to give the man space but yearning to go to you himself. As if something obsessed had taken hold in his panic, and replaced each of his controlled senses with a collapsing world around him despite nothing hinting at it.

Jon knew he could admit it now, he was selfish. What world was he fighting for if he didn't get to have you with him in it? What was the point of everything you two had done to get here if it was all gone? Slowly, his eyes darkened as they trailed along your person and landed on one thing of you in particular, he couldn't handle that either.

Wolkan's voice cut through the swirling chaos formed in Jons panic, and it was a tone not matching of anything close what so ever. “I am confident, your grace, that there is nothing needed to panic about.” If the uncertainty in Jons expression was obvious, it seemed Wolkan picked up on it in an instant. “Physically there is nothing wrong, I would say very likely a combination of stress and anxieties pushed her a little too far.”

Jons hands clenched as they sat crossed over his chest, trying to keep his eyes on the man instead of gliding back over to watching you with unblinking eyes. His voice forced out more sounding a bit like a roughed husk trying to remain neutral. “You're certain it's nothing else? Nothing worse?”

Shaking his head, he looked over you once more with a confidence Jon envied before returning his gaze back. “If I may speak freely,” Nodding, Wolkan granted permission in silence against the stiff, on edge posture of the King before him. “I would suspect she has been running herself ragged for many days now, but would rather try to hide all of it from us, from you.”

Little air was found still in him, and Jon knew it wouldn't return until he was right at your side. Breathing out nothing but a short, “Why?”

And he couldn't help but appreciate that Wolkan approached the topic of you without any judgment or distance on the strangeness. “Northerners in my experience, tend to be a bit more focused. You all have very strong drives and push yourselves harder then many in the South. I suspect the queen sees her position as needing to be equal to those around her. And would rather sacrifice some of her own well being to do so for the sake of others.”

Jaw clenched, Jon tilted his head in slight indication of understanding. He knew that too well, it was a constant battle his entire life with you that you didn't always need to be just like them. You could take care of yourself like few woman Jons ever known, but he hated that you sometimes seemed to take that as you couldn't let yourself still be seen as someone who deserved to be taken care of.

Minimizing how much you'd let Jon do it and for what, but in truth Jon didn't want you to be just like him. He didn't fall in love with you, to try and make you anyone but exactly who you already were. He didn't see the rough and determination in Stannis and expect his daughter to be just like that as well.

Jon knew that maybe, it was time he be a bit stricter with you. He tried keeping you from some of the more stressful parts of ruling the North gently, but maybe the way his father did things had a point. Sometimes, Jon might need to have a firmer hand to protect the ones he loved even if it made him look harsh for it.

It also, only meant that he needed to deal with her even sooner. Her actions here couldn't be allowed to put any more stress on you then what already had been done. Not now especially.

Coming up to sit at your bedside, the vulnerability slipped through enough that there was no longer hiding the brightness in Jons eyes, the gentle manner in which he let his hand run along your hair. Still toned in a forcing husk, but more of a mutter trying to keep the rest of it down, as if any louder would startle you in your sleep. “Coming back the way we have, doesn't make any of this any easier.”

By that point, Wolkan had long since seen your scars, and since his time in Winterfell now, had seen Jons. There would now always be a degree of unknown between things that happened to both of you, but there was no point in Jon dancing around it.

Wolkan was quiet, but never doubting or skeptical in tone. “I can only speak for what I can see with my own eyes. I have no understanding of what it is like to experience what you both have, but I can confidently say that she relies on you more then she wishes to admit.”

Hand drifting down, Jons thumb tracing gently along your cheek as the gaze baring down on you bled profusely with a deep adoration. He had thought it many times, but never spoken to another, not in that way, not in such a raw manner. “She's afraid of being a burden on me, but there's nothing I wouldn't do for her. It feels like I didn't only come back in love with her, I came back obsessed with her, addicted to her.”

“Maybe that is precisely what she needs.” Jons brows furrowed, but he didn't look up from you and Wolkan didn't at all expect him too. “None offence meant, your grace. But were you two normal people, I would suggest such thoughts weren't healthy. If I'm not mistaken, there has not been a time since your return that has been without her. Returning to a new life, she has always been in it. But when I had met her, she was alone and ready to die all over again. It was months she spent alone in a dungeon cell and when they finally dragged her out of it..” Both men let the silence sit for a beat before a heavier weight came across the man. “At the time, death likely was a better life for her then what Ramsay Bolton had done instead. She came back alone and tortured, and worse. Maybe, what she needs, is to know without a doubt, that the man she brought back needs her more, then she fears that she is in the way.”

Many months now, Jon had spent worried that his intensity was the problem. He knew he came back different, he knew it was not normal to feel this dark, this angry, this possessive. It was not who he used to be, nor the way Jon looked at you with such an all consuming addiction. The Jon he used to be would never have spent the first moments reuniting with you like that, but in this new life, all Jon could think as he stood there looking at you? Your wide, shocked eyes bright and shining with more raw honesty then he had ever seen on you before?

Take whatever love he once felt for you, and multiply that by a thousand and maybe then one would get somewhere close to where Jon stood now. It wasn't normal, nothing about this anymore was normal but it was the new life he was given and he couldn't change that. The darker, more animalistic sides he had shown you so far didn't chase you away.

But he hated that he knew who he would need to talk to about this, and already he felt uncomfortable that his only source of true understanding was in them. For now though, Jon let himself sit properly on the bed to look at you, letting his hand switch to the other, reaching over your body to cup the side of your face, thumb once more running along the skin of your cheek.

Jon felt words trying to come out, but they blocked themselves with something choking his throat. He was grateful Wolkan didn't hover. Turning before he made his leave proper, he did add in a bit of lightness, “When she awakes, I would recommend perhaps taking advantage of your command, your grace. As a Maester I can only implore her to eat a proper meal so many times before it begins to fall on deaf ears.”

Jon's thanks were quiet, and almost passing but he knew they were recognized anyways. However long he had been there alone since, Jon scarcely took notice of where his eyes had drifted down to, and how much his stare at been switching between there and your still sleeping face.

Long enough, that his mind was so deep within itself he hadn't heard a thing until she spoke behind him. “Some days, my daughter is the worst of her fathers family.” Jon turning somewhat to see Selyse, something almost as distant as was in his eyes, but a bit easier to read for once. Nodding towards you as she approached, her tone was low but tinged with something almost light for the woman he knew. “The more stubborn parts of Stannis, and the most self destructive side of Robert. Not for the same things, but both still push themselves even when they know it is blatantly terrible for them.”

You didn't get all the worst parts of Robert Baratheon, Jon thought. Not the parts that sent Ned Stark to hide away his son for almost twenty five years in fear. You embraced that truth better then even Jon was handling it. But he couldn't say that, not even close to that. “She doesn't try to be.”

Circling around, as if to give him a wide space as Selyse came to the other side, gently perching on bed opposite Jon. But a little more held back in any willingness to reach out to you as Jon still was running a hand over you. “No. She's nowhere near keen enough to understand what putting up with her is actually like.”

Eyes flying up sharply, but there was such a familiar tease as Selyse raised an eyebrow looking at you. A very clear trait you both shared, it wasn't often Jon really saw mother and daughter in you both. But, the bit of tease in her gaze towards you, felt a bit of warmth return to his heart. Not anywhere near a chuckle or even a smirk, but his grey eyes much less weightful then before as he hummed. “Tiring?”

“Very.”

Both breathed something of a huff out which could have been a laugh once upon a time. The quiet between them for once wasn't stilted. It wasn't easy, getting used to Selyse in such a manner, and she clearly felt the same in return. But Jon knew, if he was sitting here as your husband, she was still also here as your mother. And he had to treat that with a fairness, and an honesty.

Not expecting the direction he took his words, but Jon wasn't short about it either. Eyes finding your face one more as he ran two knuckles just down the side of your face by your hair, trying not to disrupt her own gaze on her daughter. “Selyse, I know you weren't happy she married me.” Much like you, she didn't react in emotion, rather stayed quiet to find the end of the intention of his point before making a judgment.

Jon didn't look at her still, only her finding his side as he watched you with a softness she had never even once, seen come close to the way Stannis ever looked at her.

“No mother wants to see her daughter marry a bastard. Take away a strong family name, bring her down to my place and call her a Snow. At least Robb was a highborn. You didn't have to be happy about it, but at least it wasn't insulting.” Jons tone was tight, trying to remain controlled. You were so free about how you did not think calling yourself a Snow when marrying him mattered, and not once since did you indicate it bothered you, but he knew it bothered Selyse.

“Stannis admires you, and I had to respect that. But seeing the way you looked at her, the way you were when you were around her? Stannis looked passed that you're a bastard, but I couldn't. I still struggle with it, asking a mother to rid herself of an entire life of perspective to honour her daughters choice of husband.” Jon roughly muttering that he wasn't asking her too, but Selyse sighed out. Eyes closing for a moment before turning her gaze back to you and then Jon once more, voice much firmer then before. “I never knew your brother, never saw them together. But seeing the way she looks at you..it'll take getting used too, but I don't resent you for it. I'm simply not quite talented at changing my opinions so quickly.”

Soft strands of your hair running through his fingers, both looked to the other for a moment, and yet it hit him how drastically opposite it was. Too many years ago was a similar position. Someone he loved, laying unconscious in bed, their mother on one end with a distant Jon on the other. But Selyse came in on you both instead of him intruding, and she did it with quiet respect, no short words or angry dismissal. No glares sent his way while he was at their bed side.

That day Jon had looked up to Catelyn, an unsure look marred in the very insecurity she fostered in him for his entire life. All he did was say goodbye to his little brother, and she gave him that same spiteful glare. Quiet as she barley spat out in a hate, “I want..you..to leave.”

The only thing stopping any words further was his father coming into the room. Jon had never seen her again until her reawoken corpse dragged you in front of her and demanded you pay with your life for simply loving him. Death had made her worse, and it was what made Jon force Arya to stay behind.

She didn't know the truth of what Catelyn thought of him, none of his siblings actually knew the extent of it. Jon didn't want Arya's memories of the mother she lost, to be so violent and vengeful against the brother she came back to Westeros for. She wasn't the mother Arya loved and he didn't want her anywhere near it, to have Catelyn Stark's memory soured for her the way it now was for you.

It didn't change for Jon, she hated him then and she hated him now. But there was no hate as Jon looked over to Selyse. Just a gentle understanding between both, that just beacuse whatever their dynamic now was, was slow, didn't mean they weren't trying. They didn't at all hate one another, and Selyse never treated him with anything less then genuine respect.

An understanding was felt in the moment they looked to one another. Awkward or not, the two of them were family now, bound by law. So Jon had to start trusting her as such. Clearing his throat slightly to shove down the weight of emotions sat too close to his throat, Jon rasped out, “There's something I need to take care of before she wakes up...would you-”

Selyse, unlike the spitting whisper of hate the last time, only spoke in a tender fairness that held no judgment or spite. “If she wakes up before you get back, I'll send for someone to let you know right away.”

Weight in his mind trying to hold back, Jon nodded before looking back to you. He didn't hide his love for Bran that day in front of the woman who hated him, so instead of standing right away to leave, Jon once more let is hand drift to the other side of your face. Keeping you steady as he leaned down, not sparing the raw feeling scratching at him as he pressed his lips to your forehead.

Like the last all the same, Jon left without another word. He need not hide the love he felt for you in front of your mother, but it didn't change the way he was uncomfortable with being so openly vulnerable in front of anyone.

But, there was one thing he wanted to do before you woke up, beacuse he was finished with letting this sort of thing be tolerated in the North he was trying to rebuild. This wasn't the rats den that is Kings Landing. This sort of deception and betrayal wasn't at all welcome. Not here.

He knew all too well what this would look like if he approached this with anything but the blunt truth, no matter what those listening wanted to hear. The amount of times in the Nights Watch would Jon stand in the meeting hall and again and again have his brothers not listen or argue back but he refused to stand there and use flowery language to soften the blow.

Many of his people in and around the main halls, it felt as if Winterfell was busier then it ever was, but if he did this in front of all of them here and now it was going to be as blunt as he could approach it. Standing tall with a slight clear of his throat, “My lords,”

Some looked, others didn't over the usual chatter. Theon stood near one table with Olly, both glancing with a more stern look across their faces noting the one sat over Jons was unequivocally without a shred of humour. Your lack of presence might have been worrying, were the expression not clearly that in an anger instead of any form of a sorrow.

Sat by a table, Sam with Gilly and Little Sam glanced in a quiet to one another. They knew seeing Jon as Lord Commander was one thing, but a whole other as he stood there with the aura of a King. But at the same time, Sam knew the look behind Jons eyes. It was something he had seen in an unblinking intensity the same day which was Lord Janos Slynt's last.

In the few seconds it took for not all attention to be on him, the mantle of fixing such an issue was taken up by where Arya was, speaking to the lords and what not she had at least somewhat known of before. Whatever maturity she returned home with, was not overpowered by the quickness of her loud tone over them all. “Shut it,”

Quiet faded from the voices, and only the smallest of slight nods was given in return to the much more innocent look Arya gave towards him. As always, Jon stood on their level, talking to them, not down to them. If he was going to do this, he wanted it to be heard fairly, not as law.

Tone rough as it rasped out, the agitation right on the surface. “There's something that needs to be put out in the open, and I'm going to be as honest as I can. One of our own has stabbed you all in the back. Watched us, whispered about us, fed information to an outsider who means to ruin what we've spent all this time rebuilding.” Glances and whispers chattered through the crowd like a ripple, and yet as grey eyes looked across them all, he saw the only one he needed too.

There was little Jon did not see, and she was watching him with the steadfast resolve of a hawk out for the hunt. But Jon was not the prey any longer, wolves aren't prey. They attack to protect their own. Not every detail was needed, but certainly Jon would give her a chance to step forward on her own.

Collected but loud his voice echoed in the hall, and Arya the only one who was with narrow eyes watching as knowing as he spoke. Your name falling from his lips, “Not long ago as you know, she was attacked and taken prisoner by a group of Southern outlaws. They knew where she was, where she went and when, and attacked our own people to lure her into going with them.” Head nodding somewhat towards his sister, Jon hid no credit. “Were it not for Arya, we wouldn't have gotten there in time and she'd have been dead. But these men only did this, beacuse someone was following and spying on her, just like they're doing right now with the rest of us.”

The speculation had begun, but still she did not move an inch.

So Jon kept going pacing a bit along the top stretch of the room as he'd give her every chance until he came to the final conclusion to which there was no return. He had mercy for one who came forward guilty of their own accord, he had far less for those who would force him to do so after it was too late. “There are spies all over the North, we can't track them all, but that doesn't mean they're welcome. Not when they're working with means us harm. And in this case, the person watching us, is one of you.”

That had the crowd like a watering wave speak up and about. Words and heads flew trying to comprehend it, some were quiet and watchful and only one stared without question. Still though, the stare was in silence. Come forward on your own, Jon thought. Make this easier on yourself.

“I'm asking you, is the kind of North we're fighting for one where we can't trust our own? Where we have to watch what we say where beacuse someone we might call a friend is ready to run whatever we say and do somewhere else?” The answer was a strong no, still the people Jon knew they were.

Loyal to their own. Including loyalty to protect their own against one of them trying to disrupt that.

Stopping his back and forth, he turned to look to his people with a confidence once more. “All my life my father taught me to have room for honour, and mercy. Come forward, and you will be given that.”

Hardly since returning to life, have you awoken so aggressively. Flying up from where you lay in a manner you never had even in the worst of nightmares, and yet braced up on your palms your lungs screamed for air. Quick to your side, Selyse calmly called your name. A hand resting on your shoulder in comfort from her, yet the sudden contact has you pulling away in a flinch as if still surprised.

“It's okay, it's fine-” Your mother trying to placate whatever it was which brought forth this strange and sudden onslaught of gasping, when you were not in the same state when you had fallen. Not that you even remembered that by this point. No, you were somewhere else. Trying to catch your breath, you barley managed to begin what sounded of the word where, and the reasonable assumption she came to was not unreasonable. Palm now on the fur next to you, Selyse leaned in as calm as she could manage to bring you down, to no avail. “They brought you to your chambers, you fainted in the middle of the great hall.”

Shaking your head, it was as if you heard her but barley understood her. Your head almost underwater and in a slightly sweating state of disarray it was as if you ran miles in only your sleep, if judging by appearance alone. But it sounded as if she spoke that way too, your ears ringing with the same words over and over as they were spat at you.

Finding a voice proper, you managed to gasp out, “Where's Maester Wolkan?”

Learning forward, you barley could determine your mother was playing calm in a manner that was as motherly as she could but this was not the time. “He's with Jon, I'll send for them both-” Suddenly interrupting herself, she called your name in a louder scolding.

You shook your head no before moving from the bed in an instant. Light on your feet as the haze in your head but you only moved across the room to grab a warmer shall to wrap around in the cold. Only, it wasn't so cold to your mother but it certainly was for you. Shivering even as your skin sweat. Calling your name once more, you passed her by. “No, I need something.”

Head jolting back, Selyse stood as you tried going for the door. Only to haul herself in front of you, hands at your upper arms as her face twisted in a stern disapproval as well as the sound of your name in a similar tone. “You need to rest,”

Heart racing and pounding enough you felt short breathed from the exertion as well, you had not the time stored away in yourself to be respectful. Rolling your eyes as you moved to brush passed her. “I have to find something first.”

Once more Selyse stood her ground, not that either of you truthfully were much in the way of physically imposing to the other, let alone anybody. “If you need something tell me, I can get it for you. But you need to rest,”

Your determination won out against her groundedness, slipping quicker then she expected by and moving to the door. Flinging it open with whatever strength your arms could muster, it was as if all that vision had left your body to react in real pain. But you moved through the halls, more empty then you expected but not the mind to notice. “It's not-it's easier if I look for it myself.”

No doubt a frustrated sigh came from her as Selyse. Stopping to request something from a passing guard only to then have to all but run to catch up. “What is it you're looking for?” Your only answer being that of a book, did not give her any help but you couldn't explain yourself in this state nor did you want to try.

Maester Wolkan's study was quiet and empty as you expected. Moving right to the other side in a small nook, you rummaged through a pile of large books without sparing a second glance to the ones you cared not for. Your mother as frustrated with your insolence as she was confused. None the less, she stood by watching you search until it came around.

The large tome was not unlike one many years before needed for such as strange reasons, but this time it was not your own you didn't know you'd be searching for. A History of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms. What was it Pycelle once called it? A ponderous read. That it was, but when you needed one thing only, it was the most important.

Slamming the large book open, Selyse came to your side as you started flipping through the pages upon pages of great houses. You somehow knew exactly what you were looking for, but not truly. Living in their shadow for your entire life meant most of the knowledge was stored somewhere far in your mind, you need just jostle it to bring it back to the forefront.

Jon's voice projected loud in the hall when only silence was found in his offer of mercy. “Lord Howland,” Without a shred of worry, from his seat did he stand up with all the respect he had arrived with. “You saved my fathers life during the rebellion. You and five others went with him to rescue his sister, Lyanna Stark.” The skip in his heart, Jon pushed down with as much force as he could possibly muster. Not right now. “But only you two survived that day.”

With a nod, the pieces still only clear to one, not even Arya had been told what Jon was about to put together. Lord Howland responding with the same weight he spoke the only day he and Jon ever discussed anything of those events. “We were, your grace. Seven of us went against only three Kingsguard, but it was a fight your father and myself never forgot. We may not have been able to bring the Lady Lyanna home alive, but their deaths in fighting to get to her were not in vain.”

Finding their face in the crowd, Jon moved moreso to fill the space in the bit of clearing, voice projecting as meaningful but with a weight heard better in closer proximity. “Lord Galbert, I know one of those men was your cousin, Ethan Glover.”

Standing with a look of, not sorrow, but almost a fond smile. “He was, your grace. I used to say to your father that Ethan rather have died young swinging that bloody sword, then living and dying to the ripe age of eighty. And standing by his side, I know there was no place he'd rather have fallen.”

Her eyes needed not seek Jons out when he turned to her next, already they were trained on him with a sharpness behind, a blade ready to strike. “Lady Barbary, I know you lost not one, but two that day. Your great uncle, Lord Mark Ryswell. And your husband. Lord Willam Dustin.” But she stayed seated, and unlike the others, the air between her and Jon thickened as she said not a word.

And neither did one look away from the other as Jon continued. “He never blamed you for it, but I know there had been bad blood between you towards my father for their deaths. Even despite it, your families both answered Robb's call for war against the Lannisters. To save my fathers life, to rescue my sisters.” Once more your name came out, and whatever whispering existed around suddenly seemed to die off. “She called the banners to bring the North together, reclaim it against the Boltons. Who were given the North as reward for murdering my brother. You sent men when answering the call to Robb when he had not yet been called King in the North, but not when your own Queen sent pleads for help when she thought she had no one.”

Eyes begun to turn, and some shifted closer as it was clear, Jon only had one person in his mind and it seemed he walked in already knowing as such. Giving a chance to be brave, and do the right thing on their own accord before he dragged the truth out for all to see on his own. Voice short and almost shrill with the tone she hissed. “Had the wildlings didn't she?”

A rumbling came from one leaning against the wall. Tormund standing back from politics not any of his business or even concern, but they were Jons problems and so he was there all the same. Looking at her with push from his leaned place to almost scold her in a way Jon had seen Tormund do on his behalf before. “Aye, we helped her beacuse he,” Pointing to Jon himself, “Convinced us. She didn't know us, wasn't going to ask us to give our lives for her cause, but your King in the North is why we fought, why we're still all here. It didn't matter what we wanted on our own, you do the right thing beacuse what else has he been letting other people kill him for?”

He felt the anger, Jon knew it was something begging to protect you from what he was too late to save you from but it was there all the same. “The truth is you couldn't side with her could you? It would ruin everything you already stabbed her in the back for.” If Barbary Dustin thought she was going to lie her way out of this, she was mistaken. “You already knew you were going to side against us, beacuse you already knew she was alive. Far before any of us. The Boltons had to smuggle her in quietly so no one found out, so they snuck into the North through the only person that would help them.”

Nails dug into the wood below her fingertips, and the resentment was rising as was the wide knowing stare between he and her, that they knew this was happening. “Your sister, Lady Bethany. She died of a fever over ten years ago, her son not long after that. And I know for a fact my lady, that losing your sibling and their child is a powerful way to bring you and their widow together. Only, your sisters husband wasn't just anyone, was he? She was married to Roose Bolton.”

Five then ten seconds had passed before she hissed out, “Not all of us are so lucky to get to pick the ones we marry, your grace. I did not choose to have my sister marry into House Bolton-”

Only, the voice that spoke up wasn't Jon. It was one however, that made her quiet in an instant at the certainty and trust in Theon's tone. “But you chose to side with him, work with him. He murdered your King and you helped smuggle your own Queen into the Dreadfort and kept quiet about it beacuse you and Roose Bolton worked together.”

Everyone knew some of the story by now, and Theon had not a single reason to make such a detail up, not in front of these people. Eyes flickering to Jon, she was silent, muscles looking as if she twitched to shoot up but remained seated with a burning anger under, matching the statued stillness seething from Jons own eyes.

“You aided Roose Bolton in smuggling the Queen in the North into the Dreadfort where she was kept prisoner, tortured and far worse for over a year. And when she escaped? I helped her reclaim the North, and you blamed us for the Boltons deaths as well. So you turned to another, and tried to have her killed by outlaws and murderers.” Opening her mouth, Jon had one last trick. “I'd think twice about lying, my lady. Maester Wolkan kept copies of every raven scroll coming in and out of Winterfell and the Dreadfort. If it's been in your hands since you've been here, he's already seen it, and so have I.”

If the swiftness she stood from her seat with a sharp anger about to erupt from her tongue spoke of any action, it was ceased in an instant. Bodies standing as a ripple of noise rang through the air the moment Barbrey Dustin moved, she got no further then being kept at bay by those once allies around her.

The Northerners were loyal, but not to those who stood against their own. It was a long way from Jons days in this very home, thinking his name meant he could never truly belong. But it wasn't the trueborn noble woman they sided with, but a bastard King called Snow.

The book was long winded, pages upon pages one after the other and many hands had written this over whichever Maester was in Winterfell. Three hundred years of documents were kept and there were far too many and your patience ran thin.

But Selyse stood by watching as you scoured. It was there, you had heard it and it all had to connect. It could not be, not when the red womans words were not either. It all was one connecting tendril wrapping around too many mysteries of the world trying to implode in your own dreams. But if you were back in this world, in this new life to be here for Jon, then you had to understand the gift the gods gave you to do so for him.

Flipping once, twice again, you found names which stood out. Shoulders deflating for only a moment, you leaned with your palms braced on the wooden surface either side of the large tomb. Voice ragged and still in a state of distressed appearance, you whispered exactly what it was you woke with such a startled desperation to remember.

“Brynden Rivers, born to King Aegon the Fourth and his mistress Lady Melissa Blackwood. Legitimized by his father in the one hundred and eighty fourth year after Aegons landing. Hair of white, eyes of red, and pale complected.” Your voice muttering out in a breathlessness as you skimmed over many details of wars and rebellions and many conflicts as was never ending in such the families entire reign, but you found the end, and you knew you had remembered exactly.

“Accepted offer of the Nights Watch given by King Aegon the Fifth shortly following his arrest. Was elected Lord Commander of the Nights Watch in his sixty fourth year. Disappeared while ranging beyond the Wall, whereabouts until his death...unknown..” Your gaze rose up with wide eyes, mouth slightly parting as something found itself both an answer and a mystery anew.

You sought one answer, and found too much. But the one answer was there in a simple line of text that none left alive would have looked twice at. Your nerves too warm inside you and froze it and you right to the spot, beyond a shock into a baffled confusion.

Otherwise known by his title, Lord Bloodraven.

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