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ollieofthebeholder · 4 years

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leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

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Chapter 19: Martin

It shouldn’t really startle Martin when he falls asleep mid-conversation. After all, it’s been a rather traumatic twenty-four hours, both physically and emotionally. He’s in a decent amount of pain, and he needs rest to heal. He knows all of that, logically. But he’s also never been good at sleeping if there’s anyone else awake in the room, so when he wakes up in a dark room and realizes that the last thing he recalls is Tim starting—but not finishing—one of his terrible jokes, he’s not sure what surprises him more, the fact that he fell asleep or the fact that he actually feels rested.

Sort of, anyway. He’s sore all over—the painkillers have obviously run their course—but he’s not too tired to think, and he’s obviously slept deeply. He stares at the blurry void currently standing in for the ceiling and tries to figure out how he feels about that. It should be a good thing, but it’s…well, there’s no other word for it, it’s weird.

In the grand scheme of things, it’s not that weird. Not as weird as the fact that he’s been talking to a future version of himself for eight days—somehow without knowing he’s blind—or the fact that his future self and Jon’s future self seem insanely close. Not as weird as being held hostage by a woman riddled with worms or attacked in his workplace by that same woman and her moderately-sized army of parasites. Not as weird as entities fueled by fear or an apocalypse being caused by a semi-immortal man currently disguised as an ordinary pencil-pusher. It is, in fact, the ordinary kind of weird, and really, Martin shouldn’t be getting hung up on it. Nevertheless, here he is, unable to understand when he came to trust the rest of the Archival team enough that he feels safe enough to fall asleep while they’re still awake to do things to him.

He really needs therapy, something he’s known for years, but several of the reasons he needs therapy tie into why he avoids therapy and it’s just a whole mess. The only reason he hasn’t done it that doesn’t tie into yet another trauma or blow to his psyche is the fact that he really can’t afford it. He’s barely scraping by as it is, and God only knows how he’s going to manage the need to move. He’s been in the same building for eleven years and rent’s gone up twice, and it’s still cheaper than most other places. Even if he does find someplace that doesn’t cost more, he’ll have to come up with the first month’s rent and the security deposit ahead of time, and then there’s the fact that he’s going to have to replace pretty much everything he owns that he didn’t manage to gather up for his temporary stay in the Archives; Jon and Sasha came back from getting their things and informed him regretfully that Mrs. Mattson had already thrown out what was left in his old flat and rented it out again. Add in the fact that he has to make up almost half of the fees at the home his mother insisted on moving into, and he’s not going to have the spare funds for, well, anything. Let alone therapy.

He sighs heavily and tries to sit up. It’s nice of Tim to let him sleep in the recliner, but when he first wakes up, it’s a bit of a struggle. And he honestly can’t figure out how he keeps lying back, since he’s pretty sure he falls asleep still sitting up. Maybe he’s doing it in his sleep, or maybe he’s just so tired he doesn’t remember settling back. Whatever it is, he discovered yesterday that it’s hard for him to use the appropriate strength to manipulate the recliner back into an upright position. Or at least to do it quietly. The others are still asleep—as far as he knows—and he doesn’t want to disturb them. He can tell himself all he wants that they need rest, that they deserve to have their sleep uninterrupted, that it’s been a rough couple of days for them too, but if he’s being honest it cycles back to his fear of the consequences of disturbing his mother while she was resting. Nine years and he still can’t make himself turn on a light before sunrise if the door isn’t firmly shut or listen to music without headphones after four in the afternoon. He wonders if he’ll ever be free.

The handle engages suddenly and the footrest goes down with a deceptively soft thwump that rocks Martin forward abruptly. He bites back a gasp of pain and waits for the world to stop swimming.

“Martin?”

The whispered call from not far away makes him flinch. Martin looks up, apologies ready on his lips, then realizes he’s not wearing his glasses and has no idea who was talking. He fumbles for them and puts them on just as Jon steps carefully around the end of the coffee table and perches on the end of the sofa next to him.

“I heard you starting to wake up,” Jon says softly. He holds something out—a mug. “I, ah, I was making tea anyway, so I thought…”

“O-oh.” Martin blinks in surprise and reaches out carefully to take the mug. “Ah, thank you?”

Their fingers brush, and it’s all Martin can do not to drop the mug or spill it on himself. He can feel the blush rising in his cheeks. God, it’s probably visible even with no lights.

“You’re welcome. I—you do so much for us. It seemed like high time someone did something for you for a change.” Jon pauses, then adds, “I hope I got it right. I—I know I haven’t exactly asked, but it—it seemed like what I remembered from after dinner?”

Martin takes a cautious sip of the tea and nearly chokes in surprise. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

He can just make out Jon’s unfairly attractive smile before he brings his own mug to his lips. They sit in silence for a long moment, both of them seemingly lost in thought. Martin isn’t sure how much he’s actually thinking, though, beyond panicking slightly. It’s the first time he’s been alone with Jon, really, since he started living in the Archives. And after the last couple of days…he still has no idea where the two of them stand. If they’re on a friendlier footing, if they’ve found common ground, or if things are going to go back to normal once the initial shock wears off.

“What time is it?” he finally asks.

“About four in the morning. You’ve been asleep roughly nine hours.”

Martin exhales. “Christ, I had no idea I fell asleep that early.”

Jon tilts his head slightly. “Well, you’re healing. You’re likely going to do a fair amount of sleeping. We tried to keep it down.”

“I don’t mean to be an inconvenience like that,” Martin says, his stomach twisting. The idea that everyone has to be quiet because of him…

“Don’t be ridiculous, Martin, you’re not an inconvenience.” Jon sets his mug down on the table and turns to face Martin fully. “I—I know I’ve been overly critical of you over the last year. I really am sorry. I never meant to—I shouldn’t have treated you like that.”

“It’s—”

“Don’t say it’s all right. It isn’t. You’ve never been anything but diligent and conscientious, you’ve always gone above and beyond, and I—” Jon exhales. “The truth is, I-I was scared. I didn’t feel…adequate. Like I wasn’t up for the task. I didn’t—I never applied for this job either. Elias picked me, and I had no idea why. I don’t have a background in library science, o-or administration or anything like that. I couldn’t have told you why he offered me the job, but…well, I’m not sure I could have said no if I’d wanted to. A-and then you turned up in my office and said Elias had appointed you, and…I honestly thought he’d sent you to keep an eye on me. To, to report back to him if I stepped out of line or didn’t do the job properly. And then Rosie gave me a copy of your CV and I saw how long you’d been with the Institute, and all your credentials—”

“Most of which were fake.”

“Which I didn’t know at the time. I—I got intimidated.” Jon gives a small laugh. “I saw someone with more experience than all three of us put together and I thought, God, he wanted this job and didn’t get it and now he’s going to be reporting back to Elias every time I step out of line. I kept putting you down on the official recordings because—I don’t know, maybe part of me was hoping it would influence things in my favor if there was ever a dispute? And…I think I was projecting a lot of my own insecurities onto you. I am deeply sorry.”

Well, Jon won’t let him say it’s all right, but…Martin swallows hard and tries to smile. “I forgive you. And I’m sorry, too. I should have told you the truth sooner, but…I don’t know. I was afraid you’d fire me.”

“Considering the first interaction we ever had was me threatening you over that dog, I’d be afraid I’d fire me too.” Jon pauses. “I wonder what would have happened if I’d actually tried.”

Martin actually doesn’t want to think about it. He looks into the depths of the mug in his hands, then sets it on the end table where his glasses were previously. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

“You didn’t—oh, you mean the ‘I heard you starting to wake up’ thing? I was already awake.” Jon sighs. “I honestly don’t sleep very well these days. I-it’s not just the nightmares, it’s also…the worrying. About you. All three of you, really, but—you in particular.”

“Me?” Martin’s voice is louder than he means it to be. Tim grunts from somewhere else in the room and both Martin and Jon freeze, but after a moment he makes an odd sort of snorfling sound and seems to settle back into sleep. Martin rubs a hand over his mouth, trying to be careful of the bandages.

“Why me?” he asks, remembering to whisper this time.

Jon is silent for a moment. Martin is about to apologize for having asked when he says, “I could be glib and say it’s because you were the one being stalked by Jane Prentiss, and that is part of it, but…it’s also just that it’s you. It’s not that I don’t think you can take care of yourself just as well as Tim or Sasha can. I do. It’s…I really wasn’t sure before the last couple of days why that was. I’m still not completely sure, but I think I have a bit of a better idea.”

“We worry about you, too, you know.” Martin desperately wants to ask what Jon’s idea is, but he also doesn’t want to pry. “Ask, erm, Martin Prime. I asked him what I could do to help and he said not to let you get hurt and I kind of panicked a little.”

Jon chuckles. “I suppose that is a next-to-impossible task.”

“No, I mean I panicked at the idea that you would get hurt,” Martin says. He wonders how much he can say without betraying how he feels. The Primes are close friends, that much is obvious, but he and Jon aren’t anywhere near that point and he doesn’t want to ruin his chances of even that by blurting out that he’s fallen for his boss like a ton of bricks. This is also probably not the time to bring it up. They’re all a bit…emotionally compromised right now, and he’s still not sure what’s going to happen when the adrenaline of the last two days wears off. Even if Jon’s just said he worries about Martin. Fleetingly, he wonders if Martin Prime ever told Jon Prime how he felt and when, and he wishes it was a question he thought to ask while they had some time alone in the last week. “I-I mean, that was my biggest worry when I realized Jane Prentiss had followed me home, you know? I wasn’t just worried about what she’d do to me. I was worried she might…follow me to the Archives. Come after one of you, but especially you. A-and then when she texted you after I made my statement…” He sighs. “It’s stupid. I know it’s stupid. But there was a part of me thinking that if I needed to stay in the Archives, maybe the rest of you should have too, you know?”

“No, you’re—you’re not wrong. Truthfully, that was one of the things that I kept obsessing over last night,” Jon confesses in a low voice. “When I saw—when I realized—” He breaks off and looks away. “All I could think was that something had happened, that you could be hurt, and that you’d been alone and—God, I should have insisted we all stay. Or that you come stay with one of us from the outset. Although in retrospect…I’m not certain what would have happened if your counterpart had been alone in the Archives at the time. Not that I knew he was there, but…”

“Yeah,” Martin says quietly. He swallows against the sudden, unexpected lump in his throat. “I’m—I’m still glad you weren’t there, though. I-I was glad when it happened, and I was even more glad when I saw Jon Prime and…honestly, Jon, this sucks. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Least of all you. O-or Tim,” he adds hastily. “Or Sasha, but, I mean, she didn’t…not in their timeline, anyway.”

“No, but…that doesn’t mean we wanted you to have to get hurt, either,” Jon says. “It’s not exactly a fair trade.” He looks up at Martin. “A-are you in pain? Do you need your painkillers?”

The answer is yes, but Martin fights the urge to nod. “They, ah, they have to be taken with food. It’s—it’s not as bad as it was yesterday, at least.”

“Hold on. I think I can help with that.”

“Jon—” Martin begins, but it’s too late. Jon has already stood up from the sofa and headed in the direction of the kitchen.

Martin swears under his breath in Polish, then manages to get to his feet without hurting himself. He carefully picks up both mugs of tea and follows Jon, a bit more slowly. Partly it’s the pain, partly it’s force of habit. He doesn’t know where the joists or creaky floorboards might be, and it’s still early, he can’t risk waking people up because he’s walking too loudly. He’s already had one close call too many tonight.

He makes it to the kitchen. Jon is messing about with something, using the night-light mounted above the sink to see by. Martin can’t see what he’s doing. He sets the mugs down carefully on the table and asks, “What are you doing?”

Jon jumps and whirls around, brandishing a butter knife in one hand. He relaxes. “Martin—I didn’t hear you come in. I—I just thought—” He gestures at the counter. “It’s not much, but I thought I’d make you a sandwich at least. Get something in your stomach so you can take the pills.”

“You really don’t have to do that,” Martin protests, feeling his cheeks heat up. “I-I can wait until—”

“I’m sure you can, but there’s no reason you should,” Jon says briskly. “It’s been enough time that you’re certainly able to take your painkillers, and you need them, so why wait and make yourself feel worse?”

There’s a certain amount of logic in that, Martin has to admit. “I just…don’t want to be a bother.”

Jon places a sandwich in front of him firmly and lays a hand on his arm. “Martin,” he says sincerely, “the last thing you are is a bother. Sit down and eat. I’ll be right back.”

He heads out of the kitchen, leaving Martin incredibly confused and slightly embarrassed.

Lacking any better option, he sits down to eat the sandwich Jon has made for him. He doesn’t know what to expect, but it’s certainly not what he bites into. The first taste of it on his tongue almost makes him cry, and he closes his eyes, savoring it.

He hears footsteps and swallows hastily, opening his eyes as Jon comes back into the room. He sets the pill bottle next to Martin’s elbow, then sits down next to him and picks up his mug of tea. “Is it all right?”

“It’s perfect,” Martin says before he thinks it through and almost swallows his tongue. Oh, well, no taking it back now—best to press forward. “I didn’t know Tim ate cherry preserves.”

“I don’t think he does. He teased me a bit about being ‘elitist’ the first time he saw me eating them.”

Martin stops mid-chew and definitely swallows a too-solid bite. It takes him a second before he’s able to speak. “You like them, too?”

Jon’s eyes widen. “Too? I—I mean, obviously you like them, you’re eating the sandwich—God, I didn’t even think to ask, I just assumed…”

“No, it’s—I’ve always liked them,” Martin says. “My—my granddad had a couple cherry trees in his backyard. He used to make preserves every year, and…I dunno. They just remind me of visiting him.” He takes another bite of the sandwich.

Jon nods thoughtfully. “I’ve always been fond of cherry preserves. Well, cherry anything, actually. My grandmother used to bake cherry pies on my birthday in lieu of a cake.”

Martin smiles. “Granddad always did that for me, too.”

“I’ll remember that for next year.” Jon smiles, too.

For a few minutes, there’s silence as Martin finishes the sandwich. When the last bite is gone, Jon takes the plate and gets up to wash it while Martin struggles for a moment to get the cap off the pill vial and shake out a painkiller. The moment feels oddly…domestic. Calm. Cosy. Martin isn’t sure what to do with it, but he decides to try and let himself enjoy it. It’s never worked for him before, but he can give it a shot.

Finally, Jon sits back down next to him. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” It’s not just the painkiller, which probably hasn’t actually started to work yet. It’s the tea, and the sandwich, and Jon being nice. He tries to figure out how to articulate it, then finally says, “It’s the first time in I don’t know how long that I don’t feel afraid.”

Jon exhales. “I know the feeling. I mean—I know I should be. The world is objectively terrifying, and learning what we learned today made that exponentially worse. But…this right here? I’m definitely calmer and more relaxed than I’ve been since I took the Archivist job.”

Something in Martin’s chest warms at the comment. It probably isn’t meant like that, but it’s nice to hear he’s not making Jon stressed by his mere presence, at least. And, hey, he can dream. All he says, though, is, “’S nice.”

“It is.” Jon takes a sip of his tea and stares into it for a moment, then snorts softly and shakes his head.

“What?”

“It’s just…something my counterpart said. While we were talking outside. I hadn’t thought about it before, but…he’s right.” Jon looks up. “He told me he hasn’t finished a cup of tea in years that—that his Martin hasn’t made for him. It just occurred to me that I’m the same way. Even when…those two weeks you weren’t in the office? When Jane Prentiss was—” He swallows hard. “I just realized that I would brew myself a cup of tea and it would just…sit on my desk and get cold. I never managed to drink more than half of it. I suppose it just tastes better when you make it.”

Martin doesn’t know quite how to respond to that. “You make tea just fine. This is perfect.”

Jon hums noncommittally. He seems to be debating with himself, then sighs. “You’re far more observant than I am at times…you know they’re together, right?”

Martin’s brain pulls up short. “Wait, what?”

“Our…counterparts. The Primes. They’re—they love each other. He told me that when I asked him, and…God, in retrospect, it’s so obvious. I-I suppose I just didn’t see it.” Jon looks suddenly nervous as he scans Martin’s face. “You’re more…in tune with that sort of thing than I. You did know, didn’t you?”

“N-no,” Martin manages to stammer out. Oh, God, he can feel his cheeks heating up. Jon’s right, though, in retrospect it’s obvious. He thinks about all the little interactions the Primes have had with one another, the way they both fuss over each other, the way they seem to know what the other is thinking. The lighthearted, affectionate banter, the near-constant physical contact. Jon Prime rubbing his thumb over Martin Prime’s knuckles to calm himself when he gets overwhelmed, Martin Prime reaching for Jon Prime instinctively when he needs a hand up.

Then, suddenly, he remembers the way Martin Prime spoke about the person who was coming back to meet him, when he assured Martin that if they’ve come through somewhere else, they’re looking for me. Logically, he knows now that person was Jon Prime, but he somehow didn’t make the connection between the two. It’s as if his brain saw Jon Prime walk in and instantly erased every conclusion that conversation made him come to. It didn’t occur to him, at the time, that Jon would even bother to bring him back in time with him, let alone be looking for him. Now he takes a mental step back, re-evaluates every moment between the Primes in light of that conversation, and wants to smack himself on the forehead for being an idiot.

“You’re right, though. I really should have figured that out sooner,” he murmurs. “God knows I had enough information to put it together. Guess I just assumed there couldn’t possibly be a universe where I—”

He snaps off the words as quickly as he can. Oh, God, he really almost said it out loud. Almost let Jon know how he feels. He’s not stupid, the Primes have a lot more history between them than he and Jon do, and he doesn’t doubt for a minute that they haven’t been together long, relatively speaking. Probably only since Jon Prime rescued Martin Prime from the Lonely. The circumstances that led them to this point are ones they’re trying to undo, and Martin seriously doubts he and Jon will ever get to that point. It’s best if he tries to let this thing die now and be happy for his counterpart getting this much.

Jon looks like he wants to ask him a question, but doesn’t. Instead, he says quietly, “They weren’t going to tell you. Us, I suppose, but…I asked him. How he felt about his Martin. Mostly because I was trying to figure out how I felt about you, and I thought knowing his thoughts would help untangle mine.”

Martin has to try twice before he can get the words out. “Did it?”

Jon gives a small, humorless laugh. “Not really. In truth, it just made things more confusing. I…” He rubs his thumb against the knuckle of his index finger, the same nervous tic Jon Prime uses when he doesn’t have Martin Prime’s hand to hold. “I-I got scared when I arrived at the Institute the other night. I was…there was all that chaos, all those lights and sirens and activity, and—and I realized you weren’t in the crowd. All I could think of was that there’d been a fire and you hadn’t woken in time, or that you’d been trapped and been…burned or breathed in too much of the CO2 or something. I tried to—they wouldn’t let me in after you. Obviously. That makes perfect sense, but…at the time, all I could think of was that you were in there a-and I needed to get to you, that I needed to know you were safe. I was staring at the idea of a world without you and I couldn’t face it. And then…Elias told me Tim and Sasha were down there, and then mentioned Jane Prentiss, and it all got worse and…I don’t know, Martin, I’m rambling. But Tim’s right. I was—I must’ve shouted down half a dozen officials trying to get one of them to tell me where you were, how you were, to—to let me see you. Everyone kept saying you were going to be all right, but I knew I wouldn’t believe it until I saw you.”

“I—I mean, if it had been Sasha or Tim—” Martin begins.

“I don’t know how I would have reacted if it had been them who was hurt. I was definitely worried about them, but…I don’t know.” Jon takes a deep breath. “I’ll be honest. I still don’t really know how I feel. I—I do care about you. I worry about you, I want you to be safe. Beyond that, I—I’m afraid I don’t know.” He manages a small, slightly roguish smile. “I don’t suppose you know how you feel.”

“Oh, Christ,” Martin practically whines. This is not how he wanted any of this to come out, and he doesn’t know if he should say it.

Then it occurs to him that Jon didn’t ask. Jon, who has just learned that he’s developing the ability to force people to answer his questions, and who is probably more likely to do it when he’s tired or stressed out, deliberately avoided actually asking a question. It’s a simple statement. He’s giving Martin permission to not say a word if he doesn’t want to.

Which…actually, weirdly, makes him want to.

He takes a deep breath. “O-okay. The truth is…I’ve kind of had a crush on you for a while. I wasn’t going to say anything, because it’s—I mean, I didn’t want to make things weird, a-and I know you—I was just trying for ‘he doesn’t think I’m a complete idiot’ for a while there. I also thought it was just a stupid workplace crush, and I was kind of hoping it would eventually go away on its own. It didn’t. Ever since I started living in the Archives, it’s just got worse. I guess that’s why I didn’t realize how the Primes felt about each other. I kind of thought I was projecting, o-or seeing what I wanted to see, maybe? I don’t know. But I do worry, and I do…I do care.”

“That’s not why you went back to Carlos Vittery’s apartment, is it?” Jon’s voice is so soft Martin almost doesn’t hear it, but his eyes are worried. “Because you thought I…?”

“No,” Martin assures him. “No, I—you know, I know I said I was trying to ‘make sure I’d done my due diligence’ and all that, but what was behind that was that I’d been…I felt pressured to go back. Like a nagging, persistent headache. I get it all the time, really, when I’m doing research. Remember when you sent me to track down that…that Angela woman? For the—”

“The man who was falling to pieces. I remember.”

“I know you got exasperated with me, but I literally couldn’t stop until I’d talked to every Angela I could find. I’d think ‘well, I’m not going to find her, I’m going back to the Institute now,’ but I’d get this blinding headache and it wouldn’t go away until I went ‘okay, just one more.’ It’s only got worse as time goes on. So no, I didn’t…get myself into this mess because I was trying to impress you or whatever.” Martin can’t help the small, nervous chuckle that escapes him. “’Course, if it did impress you, I wouldn’t complain.”

“What impressed me was that you kept your head well enough to survive and get back to your apartment, never mind the Institute,” Jon says warmly. “If it were me, I’d likely have done something stupid like go back for my phone when I realized I’d dropped it.” He sighs. “I—I don’t want to make things awkward. But I also don’t want to…promise anything.”

“I don’t expect anything, Jon.” Martin learned a long time ago not to expect anything. As far as he’s concerned, the phrase good things come to those who wait is inapplicable. In his case, it’s more like good things come to those who aren’t you. He has friends, in Tim and Sasha at least. That’s more than he probably deserves.

Jon studies him for a moment, then smiles slightly and holds out his hand. “How about I apologize for being such an ass to you, and we start with friends and see where it goes from there?”

This is the last thing Martin would have ever anticipated, but he’s certainly not going to object. He smiles in reply and takes Jon’s hand. “Deal.”

They shake on it—very gently, Jon is careful of the healing wounds on Martin’s hands—and then sit back. Jon studies Martin. “Did they tell you how long you’ll need to wear the bandages?”

“Until things stop bleeding when I take them off?” Martin shrugs. “Hopefully not too long. Some of them are…deeper than others. I’m supposed to make an appointment with my regular doctor for a follow-up in a couple of weeks.”

“We’ll make sure you get there safely,” Jon promises. He picks up his mug and salutes Martin with it. “After all, what are friends for?”

Martin grins, feeling more relaxed than he’s felt in a while, and salutes Jon back. “What indeed?”

#ollie writes fanfic #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #mentions of emotional abuse #acts of service as a love language

10 notes · View notes

asknightqueendany · 6 years

Note

Political Jon is NOT character assassination. Jon has manipulated people before. He manipulated Ygritte. Calling people who believe in Political Jon “fake Jon Snow fans” is silly. Many Jonsa stans actually like Jon more than Sansa. But from my experience it looks like these Jon*rys stans are really just hardcore Danyfans who want D*ny to have everything.

Alright. I don’t know how many times, or in how many different ways I’ve already said this, but I will say it again because you all are obviously thick in the head and/or just lack reading comprehension:

JON SNOW DID NOT SEXUALLY MANIPULATE YGRITTE.

YGRITTE SEXUALLY MANIPULATED JON SNOW.

As I already stated HERE, Jon’s mission with the wildlings as dictated to him by Qhorin Halfhand was simple: infiltrate the wildlings, spy on them. THAT’S IT.

Jon was told TO WATCH. His goal was to gather information that he could then bring back to Castle Black and let the men there know what Mance Rayder had planned. Jon was not told to manipulate anyone, nor did he.

He wasn’t told to get chummy with Mance, befriend him, earn his trust to try to convince Mance of a different path or plan, he wasn’t told to try to change Mance’s plans, he wasn’t told get close to any of the other wildlings to try to make them see reason, he wasn’t told to get emotionally/sexually involved with any of the wildlings to try to bring them over to his side and become members of the Night’s Watch. None of that. His job was TO OBSERVE.

Jon tries to put off Ygritte for as long as possible when it comes to sex. He knows she wants him. He knows everyone else in the wildling camp knows she wants him. But he doesn’t want to do it.

Jon II, ASOS

“Now as to you … is it true they cut your members off when they take you for the Wall?” “No,” Jon said, affronted. “I think it must be true. Else why refuse Ygritte? She’d hardly give you any fight at all, seems to me. The girl wants you in her, that’s plain enough to see.” Too bloody plain, thought Jon, and it seems that half the column has seen it. He studied the falling snow so Tormund might not see him redden. I am a man of the Night’s Watch, he reminded himself.

Every night when they made camp, Ygritte threw her sleeping skins down beside his own, no matter if he was near the fire or well away from it. Once he woke to find her nestled against him, her arm across his chest. He lay listening to her breathe for a long time, trying to ignore the tension in his groin. Rangers often shared skins for warmth, but warmth was not all Ygritte wanted, he suspected. After that he had taken to using Ghost to keep her away. Old Nan used to tell stories about knights and their ladies who would sleep in a single bed with a blade between them for honor’s sake, but he thought this must be the first time where a direwolf took the place of the sword.

“Do you mislike the girl?” Tormund asked him as they passed another twenty mammoths, these bearing wildlings in tall wooden towers instead of giants. “No, but I …” What can I say that he will believe? “I am still too young to wed.” “Wed?” Tormund laughed. “Who spoke of wedding? In the south, must a man wed every girl he beds?” Jon could feel himself turning red again. “She spoke for me when Rattleshirt would have killed me. I would not dishonor her.” “You are a free man now, and Ygritte is a free woman. What dishonor if you lay together?” “I might get her with child.” “Aye, I’d hope so. A strong son or a lively laughing girl kissed by fire, and where’s the harm in that?” Words failed him for a moment. “The boy … the child would be a bastard.” “Are bastards weaker than other children? More sickly, more like to fail?” “No, but—” “You’re bastard-born yourself. And if Ygritte does not want a child, she will go to some woods witch and drink a cup o’ moon tea. You do not come into it, once the seed is planted.” “I will not father a bastard.”

Jon goes so far as to make Ghost sleep between him and Ygritte so that she doesn’t try anything. He doesn’t want to sleep with her even though he knows that if he did, it would make his life much easier because it’s one more thing that distances him from being a man of the Night’s Watch and his vows in the eyes of the wildlings.

But Jon tells Tormund flat out: I will not father a bastard. This is Jon’s truest self, not wanting to father a bastard and yet he reveals it to Tormund, the enemy, because he doesn’t want to sleep with Ygritte that badly.

Jon isn’t flirting with Ygritte, he’s not doing things to earn her affections and her trust, he’s trying to distance himself from her. Jon is trying to avoid sleeping with Ygritte at all costs because it would go against everything Jon believes. It would be breaking his vows to the Night’s Watch, it would possibly lead to Jon father a bastard. That’s not who Jon is. He’s a man of the Night’s Watch. He can’t sleep with Ygritte, even as he’s trying to make all the wildlings believe he’s one of them. He wants/needs to keep this part of himself or else he’ll actually feel like a traitor instead of just posing as one.

But when it comes down to life or death, continue spying for the Night’s Watch or have Mance kill him and have it all be in vane, Jon can’t avoid Ygritte anymore:

“You best not be lying, girl,” Rattleshirt said to Ygritte, his eyes shiny behind the giant’s skull. Jon drew Longsclaw. “Get away from us, unless you want what Qhorin got.” “You got no wolf to help you here, boy.” Rattleshirt reached for his own sword. “Sure o’ that, are you?” Ygritte laughed. Atop the stones of the ringwall, Ghost hunched with white fur bristling. He made no sound, but his dark red eyes spoke blood. The Lord of Bones moved his hand slowly away from his sword, backed off a step, and left them with a curse. Ghost padded beside their garrons as Jon and Ygritte descended the Fist. It was not until they were halfway across the Milkwater that Jon felt safe enough to say, “I never asked you to lie for me.” “I never did,” she said. “I left out part, is all.” “You said—” “—that we fuck beneath your cloak many a night. I never said when we started, though.” The smile she gave him was almost shy. “Find another place for Ghost to sleep tonight, Jon Snow. It’s like Mance said. Deeds is truer than words.”

So hmm, forcing a man to have sex with her or else she’ll reveal him to be a double agent and still a man of the Night’s Watch...? That certainly sounds like someone’s being sexually manipulated...but it sure as shit isn’t Ygritte.

With Jon and Daenerys, it’s completely different:

In 7x04 we can see that Jon and Daenerys are attracted to each other. Hell, Kit Harington says in THIS interview with Entertainment Weekly that Jon was attracted to Dany when he first sets eyes on her in 7x03: “He walks into the room and doesn’t expect to see such a beautiful young woman of similar age to him. Any young man’s reaction is going to be, ‘Okay…’ but he puts that aside, because he has to.”

To reiterate this message in 7x04, Davos tells Jon he’s noticed him staring at Dany and D&D follow this up by also pointing out their attraction to each other in the commentary on that episode.

So Jon’s immediately attracted to Dany, a stark contrast to how he felt about Ygritte’s appearance:

At a lord’s court the girl would never have been considered anything but common, he knew. She had a round peasant face, a pug nose, and slightly crooked teeth, and her eyes were too far apart.

Ygritte is unattractive, plain and simple. Only when Jon gets to know her, sees her smile, and of course, learns she wants in his pants, does he begin to think of her as a little more than that.

But again, Jon considers himself a man of the Night’s Watch first and foremost here. Just as when he goes to Dragonstone, Jon would consider himself, first and foremost, a Northman with a duty to his people. Falling prey to the Dragon Queen’s charms is likely at the top of his list of Things to Watch Out For upon his arrival at Dragonstone because he knows what happened with Ygritte. He fell in love with her against his better judgement and it ate at him long after her death.

So don’t you think Jon would do everything possible to try to resist his attraction to Daenerys for fear of the same thing happening again?

But no, you all are arguing that Jon - who is admittedly already attracted to Daenerys - is going to plow ahead anyway with this hairbrained plan to get close to her, make her fall in love with him, just so he can have access to her armies and dragons.

Something which, as pointed out above, Jon has NEVER done before. He’s never used a woman to get her to do something he wants. He only acquiesced to sleeping with Ygritte so his cover wouldn’t be blown.

Jon has always been a person to wear his emotions on his sleeve. Even when he is a spy within the wildling camp, the true Jon is never far from the surface - telling Tormund he doesn’t want to father a bastard, avoiding sleeping with Ygritte, being reluctant to tell Mance the truth about the Night’s Watch movements, etc.

Even IF Jon did have some odd plan to try to make the formidable and wildly beautiful Dragon Queen fall in love with him, the true Jon wouldn’t be far away. And his apparent attraction to Daenerys and his affection for her wouldn’t be faked - because Jon’s not great at faking things like that. It’s real.

And since we were never told Jon was going to try to manipulate Daenerys like we were told about his spying on the wildlings by Qhorin Halfhand, it stands to reason that it’s ALL REAL and that there was never a plot to make Dany think he loved her so she would fall in love with him.

So yes, I DO consider it character assassination claiming that a character who never EVER sexually manipulated a woman before - didn’t even like LYING to anyone before - would go so far as to do both just to get access to things he was already GIVEN FREELY. Unless I missed the scenes where Dany told him: Oh, you want this Dragonglass? You’ll have to tap my dragonass. Oh you want me to fly North and fight for you? You’ll have to go south on me.

And your claim that “many” Jonsas like Jon better than Sansa...WHERE?? Please show me these people. Show me these diehard Jon Snow fans who don’t have post after post dedicated to Sansa being their true “Queen in the North” etc. etc.

Yes a lot of Jonerys fans are Dany fans but are you really arguing there are more Jon Snow fans who are Jonsa shippers than there are Jon Snow fans who are Jonerys shippers? Really??? Or were you arguing there are more Jon Snow fans who ship Jonsa than there are Sansa stans who ship Jonsa? That’s ridiculous and from what I’ve seen of Sansa stans and Jonsa stans, it’s just not true.

Of course Dany fans want Dany to be happy...but have you seen how many Jonerys shippers actually just want Jon and Dany to retire or go into hiding and not end up ruling at the end of the series?

And how does Jonerys take away from Sansa’s happiness in anyway? As in, Dany would have “everything” and Sansa would have nothing?

I’ve said before, I’ll say again, Jonerys doesn’t harm Sansa in any way, shape, or form. Because we don’t think Sansa is in love with Jon. Whereas any version of Jonsa, Daenerys would be hurt.

Dany stans don’t want her to have “everything.” We just want her to be happy. And most Jonerys shippers want Sansa to be happy as well, which Jonsa stans can’t absolutely not say the same thing of Daenerys.

And anyway, what fan would want their favorite character to suddenly turn into a woman-using scheming dirtbag like PoliticalJon would make him to be?

If Dany were suddenly revealed to be using Jon just to get him to bend the knee and in S8 revealed that she was never in love with him and broke his heart, I would be so disappointed in her! Seeing the way Jon looks at her and says she “has a good heart” and the way he puts all his trust in her, believing she’s their best hope to escape the army of the dead beyond the wall, looking at her in the Dragonpit as one of the people who’s opinion matters most to him...for her to be using him and manipulating him like that...? UGH! That would make me sick! Then I really would think that Dany had gone full villain. She’s used men for sex before - Daario - but she never did it to get his allegiance, he offered that to her almost upon meeting her, and she didn’t ever pretend she loved him. But if she pulled a stunt like PoliticalJon - PoliticalDany...I would cease to stan her, even though I am more of a Dany fan than a Jon fan. If she did that, I’d hate her.

So why do all these Jon Snow “fans” want him to become that? It’s disgusting. And you all are NOT Jon Snow fans. You’re fakes who ship a crackship.

Dandelions OUT.

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