#ramsay snow smut | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 11 months

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Just For You

Pairing(s): Ramsay Bolton x Reader, referenced Ramsay Bolton x Myranda

Warnings: NSFW!!, minors do not interact, smut, slight OOC

Words: 3316

Summary: The cruel Ramsay Bolton has an unknown side to him. Not just for anyone though. Only for the maid whom he loves to taunt.

Requested by @darkrose33

Everything about him made you recoil.

Those cruel, piercing blue eyes that drilled into the very soul and provoked fear from anyone.

His twisted smile that lit up the rest of his face as he reveled in his own malice.

Worst of all were those hands of his. Large and rough as he dealt harsh punishments on those who refused his authority.

He used to be a bastard. Nothing more than a lowly birthed Snow. All thanks to his father, Lord Roose Bolton, did Ramsay get what he perceived as his birth right. The moment he came to the Dreadfort to make his mark, you hated him and kept quite a birth of distance whenever you were forced to serve him.

Ramsay could smell your aversion to him and it seemed to thrill him even more that he achieved such a goal in a short amount of time. And thus began his pursuit of you. Not in a romantic way, more in attempting to make you cry from his mind games that he so loved to play.

Sometimes he made you cry when you were finally back in your quarters, alone and safe.

More often than not though, after a row with him, it left you confused for how he made you feel. While you dreaded every encounter with him, there was a sensation that he sent through you that you couldn’t describe. It made the area between your legs throb until it was filled by your fingers and even then they weren’t enough. You hated that he made you do things like that to your body and even worse was the dreams that plagued you. Dreams which had you wet and moaning until another servant who shared your room shook you awake, worried that you were experiencing a nightmare.

A nightmare indeed for once you were awake and realized what had happened, you were mortified with yourself. You’d lost absolute control of your body and emotions.

How he invoked such a reaction from you was a mystery.

Most days you were able to avoid him. Both of you had your own respective duties (even if he was still the bastard of Roose Bolton) and kept busy with that. You missed how the Dreadfort was before Ramsay came along. Not perfect by a long shot, at least you weren’t looking over your shoulder and constantly worried that Ramsay may pop up out of nowhere to terrorize you.

On peaceful days like these, you tend to lose yourself in the peacefulness and relish the quiet around you. No screams coming from the dungeons, no taunting trill of Ramsay’s voice, you were absolutely at ease in the kitchens.

Others bustle around you, tending to their own chores. Occasionally they’ll stop by to ask you for help or a question as many viewed you as the head of the female serving staff despite your young age.

Absentmindedly while your chopping vegetables for the night’s meal, you’re talking to another maid when you feel the brief sting of the blade slicing into your forefinger. Immediately you reel back, dropping your knife and making the maid jump next to you.

There’s no blood, not right away when you examine your index finger with squinted eyes. That’s when the blood started blooming from the pink slice. From small little beads to becoming a streaming river, you grab a rag and wrap it around your finger for the meantime.

“Shall I get the maester in here?” Another servant peeks from over your shoulder, worry making their voice wobble.

“That’s not necessary.” You brusquely tell him and inform someone else to take over your duties while you head upstairs to tend to your finger. Nothing that proper washing and bandaging can’t cure.

You grow a little concerned when you notice the amount of blood staining the already mottled piece of cloth. What had been a small circle of red was growing into a large pool.

Picking up the pace, you bump into the last person you wanted to see in that moment as you were distracted by all the blood that was dropping to the tiled floor. You were making quite the mess.

“Well, hello little dove.” Ramsay crooned out and you swear you saw a twinkle in his pale gray eyes. The twinkle diminished once he caught sight of the red drenched fabric in your hand. His eyes actually grew wide at the sight. “What in the Seven Hells happened to you?”

You’re wary by his unusual caring behavior and take a step back from him. “I’m fine. Just nicked myself a little.”

His dark brows furrow with discontent. “That’s more than a nick, dove.”

You grimace more so to the fact that your whole body flutters whenever he called you ‘dove’. The hold it possessed on you was something awful. “I’ll live.”

Ramsay blocks your way though when you try and make a dash for it. Somehow it lacks it’s usual threatening air. His face, for the first time ever, is soft. The rigid edges of his jawline become less harsh and there’s an actual sign of mortal life on his features. “(Y/n), let me help you. That’s quite an alarming amount of blood for a mere nick.”

“Why do you care?” You snap, starting to once more feel that shooting sting resonating from your sliced finger. You just wanted to get away from him and tend to your finger.

“Don’t make me beg.”

You can’t help the rounding of your eyes when you gawk at him. Who. . . Who was this person wearing Ramsay’s face? This was not the Ramsay you saw regularly. Certainly not the same one who enjoyed the tears that would gather at the rim of your eyes.

He took the opportunity to lead you back to his chambers. Ramsay sat you down at the foot of his bed as he went into an antechamber to retrieve maester-level medical supplies. As if having done so numerous times, Ramsay retrieves a brown tinged bottle, a small wooden container, and some needle and thread.

You blanch at the thread as he goes to grab one more item which was a roll of gauze.

Ramsay follows your petrified eyes and presses his lips together. “Hopefully I won’t have to use those. Now, let me see the injury.”

This was a new side of Ramsay never before seen. Numbly, you hold out your bloodied hand; staring at him with newfound intrigue.

You didn’t hear him explaining the items he was using. Didn’t feel the sting of what was a type of antiseptic.

He didn’t look at you as he was zoned in on his work.

Unfortunately you did require the wound to be sewn up. The way Ramsay was acting, you weren’t scared of the needle being threaded. So calm and in control. No sign of becoming unhinged anytime soon. At least not until he finished up with your finger.

A numbing solution was smoothed across the gaping wound that helped you not to feel the stabbing pinch of the needlepoint.

You watch his face. Even you would admit he wasn’t the most attractive man in all of Westeros. Ramsay wasn’t even conventionally handsome by most standards.

But. . .

Gods he made your heart dance erratically.

Finishing up, he uses a clean strip of bandage and wraps it securely around your finger. “There. Much better.”

The state of awe hadn’t left you as you take in your perfectly wrapped finger. “Th. . . Thank you. I didn’t know you were a maester in disguise.”

Ramsay chuckles and puts away his supplies. “I’m a man of many talents.”

Still, you couldn’t wash away the oddity of this new Ramsay that stood in front of you. The callous air around him was gone, hadn’t been around since he spotted all of your blood. Your eyes follow his broad back as he goes to put back his equipment.

When he turns back around, he cocks up an eyebrow. “What?”

“I’m just. . . trying to understand why you helped me.” Bringing the hand that possessed the injured finger up to your chest, you hold it there. The rumors you’d heard from your fellow servants was that Ramsay was quite bloodthirsty and torture was his favorite pastime. Everyone knew what he did down in the cellars. Whoever walked by ultimately heard the screams and cries of pain and terror.

Some called that room Ramsay’s Butcher Shop. He used it to also train his hounds. Those were the worst noises anyone could ever drag pout of their being. A hymn of immense pain, one that cast a large shadow over your merely sliced finger.

All at the hands of the very man who was so concerned about your gash. Instead of maiming you, Ramsay healed your hurt.

Perhaps you had spoken too soon as that familiar curling of his lips brightened his face. “Not to worry. I assure you I am the same, charming Ramsay that you love so much.”

You roll your eyes and dryly laugh. “What a fool I am for thinking differently.”

Despite talking back to him and laying your sarcasm on heavy, Ramsay laughs with actual delight.

After a quiet moment, you mention “Honestly this isn’t the worst injury I’ve gotten before.”

Ramsay incredulously looks at you and unconsciously he takes a seat next to you on your bed. “Well that seems impossible.”

You pat at your skirted thigh and reply “A horse kicked me in my leg when I was small. That required several stitches.”

He winces, already aware of how gnarly a wound from a horse hoof could be. “Can’t say I’ve been kicked by a horse before. But I have had a man stab me with a knife and twist it in my wound.” Casually he points to his shoulder. “Right here.”

Just like that, conversation flowed easily between the two of you. From exchanging tales of gruesome wounds to other horror stories, you found it as a common ground. While you would never harm someone the way Ramsay did, that didn’t discourage you from finding the realm of medical work fascinating.

A shame that a woman had no place in such studies. Ramsay thought that was utter rubbish. He fancied your interest, as macabre as it was.

“Now I’m the one who is surprised.” Ramsay murmurs. “All this time I thought you such a meek little target.I didn’t know a little monster lived inside of you.”

You press your lips into a strict and firm line, shooting him a glare. “I’m not a little monster. And I’m not meek. You’re just cruel!” Against your own will, your cheeks spark to life and make a red rush spread to your ears. And you’d been having such a good time with him too. A reminder that he was still the same Ramsay. Nothing had changed.

He feigns hurt. “Oh dove, you wound me.”

“I’m serious.” You grind out. “You’re so hateful. Do you think it’s funny what you do to me? Harassing me at every opportunity and toying around with my mind-“ The stream of your words couldn’t be contained now. You unleash a tongue lashing that would making anyone hang their head with shame. “It’s maddening Ramsay! I don’t understand why you do it. Worse of all has got to be the fact that by all odds-“

Abruptly you snap your mouth shut. No, you wouldn’t allow that to get out. Never would you admit your attraction for this cretin. You would sooner damn yourself to the Stranger.

Ramsay wasn’t a stupid man.

Lightening fast he picks up on what you would have said. Maybe it was the scarlet of your face or the expression of horror in your eyes that tipped him off, but Ramsay knew.

“Oh. I see. You’re attracted to me.” You desire to smack that smug grin that showed off his pointed canine tooth.

“Don’t make me laugh.” You avert your eyeline and dig your nails into your palms. You were fucked. You could already see Ramsay using this information for evil. “I have no reason to be attracted to you.”

Ramsay had Lord Roose’s eyes, so pale blue that it almost looked white. It made those pinprick of pupils even more terrifying. He leans into you, so close you could smell him: musk from hunting, the hint of rust from your blood that still coated his hands, and surprisingly pine.

To erect any sort of barrier between your bodies, you scoot away from him and add “I don’t think the kennel master’s daughter will be too thrilled if she finds out you were even entertaining such thoughts.” While Ramsay may fuck around as he pleased, word always got back to Myranda and she was a possessive one. You’d known other maids who Ramsay had taken to bed, Myranda always made sure they were never heard from again for she was just as cruel as her lover.

One of his red stained hands viciously grabs at your face, turning it so that your nose bumped against his. “Myranda doesn’t tell me what to do. As you said, she is just a kennel master’s daughter. I am the son of the Lord of the Dreadfort. She will not so much as look at you if I tell her so. And if she disobeys me, well, I’ll pluck one of her pretty little eyeballs out and gift it to you as a present.”

You struggle against him but his fingers dig into your cheek and you gasp when you feel his other hand sneaking under your dress skirts and to-

Now your heart leaps into your throat as you feel his hand brush against your upper thighs before pulling back the flimsy bit of fabric that protects your womanhood.

Both of you simultaneously groan when his fingers become coated with your arousal.

You hate everything about this situation but most of all you hate yourself for wanting him to plunge his fingers into your needy core. You want to ride his hand mercilessly like you desperately did at night when you were alone.

Ramsay presses the side of his face against your’s so his mouth caresses the shell of your ear “You say you’re not attracted to me. But your sweet cunt tells me otherwise.” You can feel his lips form a smirk before he bites your ear the same time he easily slides two fingers inside of you.

All thoughts of protest fled your mouth as it now just gapes at the sensation of him stretching you out. How delicious the walls of your cunt encase him.

Every inch of you shivers once he starts to pump them in and out. His fingers slid with ease.

To secure you and make sure you didn’t try to run away again, Ramsay circles an arm around you and grabs onto your breast; forbidding any escape.

You moan helplessly as his fingers begin to pick up pace and move in rapid succession. His hand that had been clutching your tit travels past your collarbone and wrap his strong fingers around your neck.

There’s a brief moment of panic, too aware of how many lives he’d ended in strangulation. The fear passes when he adds another finger to your weeping cunt. With that you lose the rest of your strength to sit up and fall backwards, taking Ramsay with you. He doesn’t complain. This was a better position for what he had in store for you.

Your head swims when his thumb begins to rub lazy circles around the tight bud of nerves that could send you to the heavens.

The tightening of his hand around your neck goes unobserved from the other sensations you’re experiencing. Your own need for air becomes secondary. Maybe it’s the lack of air that makes everything he’s doing to you even more exhilarating.

He stretches his fingers inside of you, hitting your sensitive, gummy walls. It actually makes you drool at the thought of how his cock will stretch you out even more.

When you think he’s going to be gracious and make you come, he flips the switch in himself and removes his hand from under your skirts so that you practically scream at him in frustration.

Ramsay grins, sucking on his fingers before releasing your neck (you hadn’t realized how lightheaded you had become) and crashing his lips against your’s. He takes what he wants from your lips, holding you close to him; so close that when he grinds his pelvis against you, you could easily feel his hardened cock.

Breathy pants and moans bounce around the room as does the sound of Ramsay stripping himself of his trousers and the sound of your skirts being hiked up until your lower half is completely revealed to him. With ravenous gray eyes, he drinks up the sight of you exposed and ready.

He palms at the mess that has become your cunt. “Had I known all this time that you would get so wet for me, I would have fucked you ages ago.” Ramsay delivers a smack to your pussy making you yelp a bit.

The part of you that still had cognitive thinking wanted to snap at him and deny the obvious arousal you felt toward him. There was no lying, not when you were splayed in front of him, your cheeks a burning inferno when you spy Ramsay stroking a mouthwatering, pink cock.

Full of himself and the way your eyes, trained on his erection, boosts his ego and makes him smirk with satisfaction.

You doubt he’ll fuck you right away. The dark swirl of his eyes tells you he is in the mood for playing. Even worse, you expect he’ll make you beg for his cock. Which, at this point, you were ready to get on your hands and knees and plead with him to fill you up. You’d say whatever was necessary as long as he followed through.

Taking his time to line up his cock with your slit, Ramsay grins at the anticipation gleaming in your eyes. He’s savoring your every reaction. There’s a pause in the lustful heat of his expression as he gazes down at you. “You asked me earlier why I cared that you were bleeding.”

You want to growl out in frustration. Talking was the last thing you wanted him to be doing. But you let him say what he needed to get out.

“Had it been anyone else, I wouldn’t have bothered.” Ramsay murmurs, his hand that isn’t guiding his shaft runs their fingers lovingly along the inside of your thigh. “You’ve always been an exception. I will never allow anyone to see that side of me. It’s just for you, (y/n). What I said about Myranda was a promise. If she so much as bothers you, I will gladly butcher her for your delight.”

His words should have curdled your stomach. Instead your heart flutters at such morbid devotion.

Ramsay didn’t bother to let you reply, instead choosing to slam into you in that very moment. The head of his shaft pierces past your barriers. Your fingers curl into the bed sheets under you as you arch your back.

The rest of the events were a blur in your mind.

Tangled legs.

Biting teeth.

The sound of Ramsay pounding into you.

You don’t recall how long the two of you are intertwined in your passions. When you finally regain your senses, the sky outside is pitch black. Slowly the aching in your finger reminds you of what had happened and where you were.

Ramsay has you pulled close to his chest, still sticky with sweat. His face is burrowed in your (h/c) hair. At first you think he’s asleep but when you move to get up, his grip on you tightens and he refuses your departure.

“You’re not going anywhere, dove.”

#ramsay bolton x reader #ramsay bolton #ramsay bolton fanfiction #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #Game of Thrones fandom #A Song of Ice and Fire #a song of ice and fire fanfiction #a song of ice and fire fanfic #A Song of Ice and Fire fandom #ASoIaF #asoiaf fandom #asoiaf fanfiction #asoiaf fanfic

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rise-my-angel · 2 months

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Heart of the Great Wolf

41 - Past Becomes the Present

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

Length: 15.4k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, past character death, discussion of medical distress, references to previous trauma, imagery of blood and gore, breeding kink, smut, mentions of anal

Notes: Reference to a specific book originated event with Ramsay this chapter, so if you catch it, I am sorry in advance. It not don't worry everything is fine, I promise. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

It wasn't so much disappointment, but more an exasperated feeling tiring him out. Hand running down his face, yourself biting down on your tongue to keep whatever it was that wanted to come out dismissively, still inside.

The last thing Jon wanted to do was bring you up to speed on everything immediately, but you dove right into things far to quick for him to catch up and force you to slow down. Getting to what he had uncovered, he struggled with now. Trying to fight between telling you the truth, and wanting you to just listen to him and rest instead. You both knew which one you'd rather have win out.

He had tried imploring you to rest, but by this point there had been little use in trying to dissuade you. You knew what he was planning, you knew he had done it while you were unconscious, but questions kept coming up and through what point you were trying to make separately. “How would he even know he could persuade her to do this in the first place? That feels like a huge risk.”

With what little was in front of you in the first place, Jon silently all but tossed more food on it with a pointed stare before he answered. “She hated my father, and he's betrayed you and my father before. With you and Robb gone, the timing never seemed better.” You had opened your mouth to speak but almost with a sternness did he gesture back to your plate to interrupt first. “Eat.”

He and Ghost both, lately. One wolf starts acting over protective and the other follows suit without failure.

You two were at least grateful that this part of the castle was on the quieter, less busy side then others. Since coming back to this place proper, any of what was used as the Starks normal living quarters seemed to be as minimally populated as Jon could have it, moreso then it used to be.

More a man of privacy then many Starks before him, Jon was. It also meant many weren't there to walk in and disturb when you both used the privacy to sort out the piling array of obstacles coming for you every which way. “Something still doesn't add up. Hating your father doesn't give her something in common with Littlefinger. He didn't hate the Starks anymore then the other people he manipulates.”

Eyes drifting to the side, squinting in thought you came up with the answer far slower then Jon had long since put the dots together. Voice low, and a bit on the air of tense himself. “He didn't need to have it in common, but he used it as a way to manipulate her against us.” Asking what that was, the answer took you back a slight bit. “My Uncle Brandon.”

“What does he-”

It was neither you nor him whose voice spoke out coming from the door frame. Theon walking in with a pointed look in your direction. “You weren't the only one with a secret Stark lover.” Brows narrowing just before your face fell a bit in a realization before shifting all together into a bit more of a grimace. A connection was asked and answered despite how little it sounded appealing. Taking a seat of his own, Theon continued, more towards Jon. “At least you have better taste then your Uncle did. No offence meant.”

Muttering rough and low into the mug up to his lips, “None taken.” The sounds of footsteps came down the hall and one more had intention of joining. Unbeknownst to them, rescuing you for now, from Jon swinging the conversation back to what you knew was on his mind the most in present thought. But this one was a safer bet amongst this company at the least.

Arya practically speaking through her first bites soon as she sat down, “Everything that's going on, and she risks it all for something that happened, what? Thirty years ago? Why not let it go, why risk betraying us over it?”

Raising your eyebrows with a slightly tilt of your head towards her, you spoke it more casually then gave away your thought process behind it. “You hold onto your anger long enough, it needs to eventually go somewhere.”

The younger wolfs face twisting in a similar fashion as the brother next to her, but with more of an open aggravation attached to her spoken words. “The other families haven't held it against us. Why should she get to blame us for something no one else does.” Her eyes an anger without something to latch it onto, Arya had let it fester into something irritated the entire day.

Once more Jon only muttering, barley a noticeable nod towards your once more not eating figure, as he did so. “I won't know until I question her, but it's not that simple. Getting over something you've spent a long time obsessing over.”

One lead to another and once more it felt as if the world was telling you that the coming winter was not the thing to focus on. The rest of the realm begged you to divert your focus to it's constant circle of backstabbing and scheming. It never stopped and it was the least important in what was to come, but it stood in your way. Telling you that you'd be a fool to prioritize winter over this and that.

The South were all were missing the point you and Jon were trying to do, that you were fighting towards the wrong ends. None of this will matter if you let it become the only importance. But it was still in front of you, and you couldn't just ignore it beacuse it should be secondary. Leaning forward, not quite looking at the others but as your arms crossed in front of you on the wooden surface, your mind felt distant.

“So, Roose Bolton betrays Robb, which leads to Barbery Dustin to betray you,” Hand vaguely gesturing in Jons direction, not even noting that you kept yourself out of it all. “If Littlefinger wants the North, he needs to get rid of one or both of us knowing we'd never trust him. And if you're right, if Sansa is with him, she'd be the only way to even get him here possibly unscathed. But still, he can't do anything when he's here. He has no actual ties to her.”

Arya piping up through bites, “What about if he marries her?”

Shaking your head, your face twisted in a doubt that was far too passing for the three of them to follow. And yet it was your next words which made that all the more confusing. “He can't. And even if it were possible, Sansa has nothing to claim.”

Flickering to their gazes now all on you, and matching in a narrow confusion, you hadn't yet realized that there was no reasonable way for any of them to have this knowledge. They all were immensely far from it's occurrence. And if you were to have spent more then a few moments considering it, you would have attempted to approach it with far more tact then none at all. Which was how it slipped out.

“The Faith will never annul a marriage between two highborns both found guilty of regicide. With Sansa on the run first, and now Tyrion? To split them up now would give the people the idea that Sansa had nothing to do with Jofferys murder. And the Faith would never concede to that.” It was only mid chewing did you notice the silence in the seconds that followed as awkward and stiff.

Looking over with a rough swallow, did it occur to you then of their uninformed positions. And that was information delivered in the worst possible manner. Theon looked around as uncharacteristically uncomfortable at the image as you had, but it was the matching wide eyed and entirely taken back expressions matching of Jon and Arya that clued you in. Lips parting just slightly enough as you whispered into the air, almost only to yourself, “Right. You three wouldn't have had any reason to know about that.”

Thankfully, Theon who was far more what you felt gave the same response you had hearing it for the first time. Much easier to divert your attention towards, and both wolves slowly looked from you, to the other and back again. “She married the Imp?”

Nodding, you inhaled with a hesitation in your eyes glazing over before it flashed out of existence in a flicker of flames in wind. Tilting your head slightly, you reached far beyond the realms of this life to gather information once learned both within the ruins of Harrenhal and the grieving halls of Riverrun. Considering, you were long since at war at that point, you were fairly certain the onslaught of horror and painful news hitting one after the other made learning of this with Robb a bit easier to swallow then it was for them now.

Calm and collected however, you thought to yourself as you looked to Theon, simply answer as the events occurred. Not the why. “Tywin Lannister had pushed my fathers forces out of Kings Landing, meaning he had a lot more reach as proper Hand of the King by then. So he started working to find ways to gain and upper hand against Robb, since he had spent the past three years losing horrendously.”

One way to put it. Another was Robb had taken control of every battle he fought and scared the great Tywin Lannister into hiding. Only willing to come out to drive back your fathers army in a last moment rescue effort. The Lannisters fell apart after his death, and thus you suspected Cersei had not anywhere near the same drive as her own father to go after Jon the way Tywin failed against Robb.

But you pressed on, voice only so on the edge of a grating tone that Jon alone could pick it up. “Joffery took Margaery Tyrell as a bride when they aided Tywins forces. The easy version I'm sure the Lannisters would rather have spread is that they simply wanted to secure the North.”

Theon was the only one to speak. Jon and Arya both, felt like they were listening to a made up story which they only caught half way through. As close as Arya was to the war for so long, she knew next to nothing about its happenings and Jon was so far from the Seven Kingdoms by then, he was beyond the Wall when there were still free folk there to lie to.

Perhaps though, it also was the fact that as close as you and Theon were to the Starks, there was the disconnect that you two were not bound to the family by your own blood. In the back of your mind, were you to hear a similar story of Shireen being married off to what you would consider the enemy, you likely would be as silent and taken back as they were.

Theon learning forward, matching the crossed placement of your arms to his looking towards you with a gaze further in wonder. “Hypothetically speaking, let's say Sansa was found innocent, her marriage to the imp annulled. Why would they need to get rid of you two first if Littlefinger thinks he can control the North through Sansa?”

Your eyes found grey ones, a knowing in one way and a struggle in acceptance of the other. Jon never wanted to seem as if he was taking anything from his siblings, and the way that woman had spoken of him as if it was an irrefutable fact. Soft and something distant in your gaze flickered away from him with a pain not his fault, but existed in your tone all the same. “We only found out about Sansa right before we left for the Twins. We received a raven with the news, and by that night all of the Northern Lords had all heard and signed in agreement to Robbs will. Which included his line of succession.”

No one was devoid of the fact that you were speaking around it, but no one tried to fill in such gaps anyways. Which was all you could appreciate as each word was very noticeably chosen with care as you said them. “Sansa marrying Tyrion was why Robb declared an heir in the first place. We knew it meant Tywin was planning something. We didn't know what he had planned, but if he was preparing for a North without Robb then we needed to as well. And the first thing he did was disinherit Sansa from any claim to the North. By marriage she's a Lannister, and any children they'd have would be Lannisters and Robb refused to give them any way to take the North. Even if she came home right now, free as a bird, she still wouldn't have a single claim to any rule. Robb made sure that was clear.”

What the others reactions were, you didn't find it in you to look. It didn't feel good saying, especially so far from that night. None of it was in malice, and as soon as Robb put it forth you both understood the weight of such a choice. But to repeat it here, so far from that without any of the way Robb could spin anything in such a manner? Out of your mouth it only sounded distant and cold.

It was incredibly hard to determine what was behind the strained roughness in Jons voice, and you had yet to find it in you to look at either Stark. Yourself slipping easily into the mask of panic at seeing a disappointment looking towards you, or worse. “And now that Arya's back?”

Were you looking, you would've seen the way her head whipped over to Jon with as close to a glare as she had ever directed his way. Her own voice raising in an instant to an offended yell of protest, “I never said I wanted to-”

Jon only replying back just as held back as you were feeling for any number of reasons. “It's not about want, Arya. You're a Stark-”

Only shouting back with something even angrier then before, “So are you,”

Cutting both of them off, you only somewhat looked in their direction but found not their faces yet, not the bravery of whatever expression they held even as your voice overpowered them. “It doesn't matter. You being here, if Sansa came back, if Bran came through the gates right now, it doesn't matter. If Robb had an heir of his own, the North is Jons until they would've come of age. Without one, as long as Jon and whatever bloodline runs through him is alive, the North is his.” Jons eyes flashed over with something that no one caught as he looked tensely towards you, still avoiding his gaze for not at all the same reasons he wanted to find yours. “He's the rightful King in the North and Robb wouldn't budge on anything less then that.”

Arya was quiet as was everyone else, waiting for either wolf to make the first move to break the heavy silence and all words left your willingness to do so for their sake. This all would have sounded so much less stern coming from Robb when he explained it then. Everything just sounded as callous and unfeeling coming from you as it did your father.

Too formal, too matter of fact. Made even worse speaking as such in front of a family as close as the Starks, and siblings as bonded as Jon and Arya. It made you feel as if you were putting words in Robbs mouth to drive a wedge between them, when it was the truth you spoke. Only the truth was warm and soothing when Robb said it.

Perhaps if you were more of a coward and less stubborn, you'd have fled from the remainder of what this conversation became. Instead, it was your words and so you had to defend them. The High lords would confirm the truth of facts, but only you could defend Robbs emotions and thoughts over the matter.

If he wanted you to do a good job as such, Robb chose a terrible Queen to carry his memory with warmth.

The low bass of his voice rippled through the air and deep into your veins, having waited until it was only you two left until Jons warmth came up close next to you. “You want to tell me what's going on up here before I have to guess?” His hand gently reaching up to run through loose strands of your hair closest to him.

In a way you think you surprised him, the way which you so easily looked over with a softness that hadn't been there since earlier that day. Nails tapping mindlessly beneath on the table, no more then a gentle murmur was how loud you managed to get. “It's strange, looking back on those final days. It feels like it was so long ago I'm thinking back to a version of myself that doesn't even exist anymore.”

His hand still running through the strands, moving piece by piece more back over your shoulder or tucking strays behind your ear as he somehow was as patient as ever. “You aren't that same girl.” Narrowing your eyes, you looked up at him. Nothing in accusation or malice, just an almost too innocent look towards him in question. Jon moved his hand, now firmly running along the bulk of your hair behind your head. “We can't go back to who we were, and we can't change where we are now. No matter what happens, we stay together. All of us. Whether that includes Sansa one day or not.”

Eyes slipping closed as you exhaled, you would've moved your head away if his touch didn't feel so soothing. “The last time I even saw her, she was still just a girl. Naive and daydreaming..I don't think I want to imagine what kind of person Cersei or Littlefinger could've turned her into..”

Quiet sat between you both, Jon never let go of his touch against your hair as he smoothed along it, but it matched the weight in his voice that held not the same defeat. Leaning a bit more, imploring you to meet his brighter eyes. “We can't change that. You and I have been here long enough that she must know it's safe to come home by now. But that's where she is, and she still didn't come home, or even try to reach out to any of us..we can't force her to come back and be part of this.”

Jaw clenched, you couldn't stop hearing the way Stoneheart acted as if Jon sitting here as King was some great offence. As if he didn't try harder to be the person he was more then anyone left in these kingdoms. Scouring his own grey eyes, you sighed lightly before letting them fall to nothing on him in particular.

“You know not a single person out there would choose anyone else to rule them, right?” Brows narrowing a bit hoping to get an easy answer, but Jons silence was as unsure as you felt in your own mind personally. Sighing out, a hand of your own reached up finally, running over the facial hair at his jaw. The scratching coarseness raw against your palm even as one thumb reached up to trace what you could reach of his cheek. “They didn't choose you to be a King, they chose you to be their King They'll follow you no matter what, no matter who tries coming back here claiming for themselves. Half of those men denied pledging to my father even though they were trapped under the Boltons control. Robb was gone, I'm not even a Northerner, they could have said no. If they wanted anyone else to rule them, they wouldn't have wanted you in the first place.”

He was almost close enough his natural warmth took away any remaining chill in the night air, no matter the howling wind floating about outside the stone walls. “When I said no to being Lord of Winterfell, part of me didn't think I deserved it. That whoever was still out there should have it more then me, it was their birthright not mine. But now I'm more then that and not beacuse some Southern King said so.” Gently back and forth your thumb traced, almost letting the rest of your fingertips slide down to trace what you could of his neck too. “I don't want any of them to think I'm trying to take it away from them, but there's more to this now. They don't understand whats coming for us, what's at stake. If Arya or Sansa took over from me tomorrow, none of the free folk would listen to them, they'd still ally with me.”

“That's beacuse you know what it takes. If you're right, if he wants Sansa to be part of this, she isn't a leader, a ruler. Not even close to the way you are.” You were quiet for a moment before letting your face fall a slight bit. “I didn't realize before that none of you would've known about her marrying Tyrion Lannister. Would have perhaps been a little less mindless about it had I remembered.”

Jons face almost fell to something amusingly baffled, twisting as his head jolted back a bit. “I don't know if I can't picture that or I don't want to.” Nodding with him, he sighed out, glancing between you and nothing a few times before choosing a side of him internally.

Rather then another word getting out, Jon gently pulled you to him from his grip at the back of your head. Lips gently capturing yours, while his other hand draped along the side of your neck and collarbone. The hand along his jaw slinking behind his neck to better steady yourself leaning up to his kiss.

Always the one to gently guide you, you merely were to follow along as he deepened it before having the proper sense to just pull back. Slowly as each of your remaining breathe was stolen by him, did his hand drift down you side. Tracing along your waist before settling at your hip, curling as if to pull you to him, but without the commitment. Only pulling back enough each word brushed his lips still against yours. “Selyse told me what happened.”

Sighing, Jon didn't let you go, but allowed your head to drop slightly in his touch. His own moving to press his forehead against yours, the hand at your hair drifting to your cheek once more. Not altering where you were looking, just cupping your cheek as he kept you close. Barley a whisper leaving you, “I know it's a lot to ask, but I need you to trust me just this time. When I know what's really happening, I promise I'll tell you.”

“Next time you don't feel alright, you need to tell me. You scared me a lot today.”

You'd apologize if you thought he at all would accept such an thing. Instead, you let the quiet sit between you both until you nodded your head. Leaning up a bit more, stealing one more chaste kiss from his lips before you muttered, “This may happen more often.” You could feel his brows furrowing as you elaborated. “Lord Howland's son has this ability, and he said these sorts of dreams and visions can take a toll of ones health.” His grip on your cheek grew a little tighter as you felt his muscles tense so close to you. Your own scratching along the back of his neck almost in a soothing manner matching your voice. “Which means if I don't learn how to control this, it might get worse sooner.”

Jaw clenched, he almost indiscernibley shook his head no before tilting your head down again to press a kiss to your forehead. Whispering against you, “I want you by my side more for the next while.” Asking why, he tilted your head back up to meet his eyes. Bright and shining finally passed the sorrow of the days toll. “You really haven't figured it out yet?”

An amused grin fell over your lips as you pulled back from him slightly, “What's that supposed to imply, Snow?” Only a tilt of his head in lieu of a shrug was your response. A tender smile as bright as the grey lovingly in your eyes as well did you shake your head. Leaning back to his lips yourself muttering, “Unbelievable, you Starks are.”

More then once Sam had to draw Jons attention back, as if the man was tied between focused and utterly distracted. His eyes kept drawing themselves to the partially open door, looking out to where he could see you and Gilly, a book in front of her and so Little Sam had found himself asking to be held by you. Pacing a little around the table back and forth, guiding Gilly through what you were introducing as increasingly more complicated books to test her.

Still early enough in the morning, Little Sam had been dozing in and out, and currently was leaned right into your front with eyes barley open as you focused on both parties. Not once did you turn as distracted and catch anything close to where Jon was, but more then once he had to peel his eyes from you back to the matter at hand.

If he were to accurately go over the numbers in his head, it had only been around a fortnight and Jon had only known for half of that time. You wouldn't have a clue, but it was making him feel even more obsessive. Seeing you collapse the other day only made that feeling stronger, as if his heart begun to race now if you were out of his sight for too long.

Tearing them back, Jons hands perched on the table as the lot of them found themselves debating what it could mean. Tormund had confirmed that Mance had indeed been searching for the Horn of Winter and as they now stood looking at what seemed like it, the question of what to do with it plagued them.

Jons voice was a low rasp, a bit on the edge of agitated as he considered too what you had seen. “My Uncle might have given his life to hide this, I'm not letting him die in vein by burning it now.” That was the suggestion both Ser Davos and Lord Howland gave, but it didn't add up. “It's been hiding in my families crypt for thousands of years, if the best option was to destroy it why wouldn't they have done it already?”

Sam had most of the level head these days, almost every night he and Jon went over what he had learned and attempted to put it all together into something which made sense. Some of it did, some of it seemed as if any answer brought into the existence of too many new questions they didn't know as it was.

Tormund was the only other one here who truly understood what they were up against, a curious look as Ser Davos mentioned that he thought the red woman had it. Jon shook his head, but without much thought passed what he said, “I told her it was said to bring down the wall, and she burned it.”

A glance between them passed with the same idea in their minds, neither of them believed it then and certainly not now. Tormund rumbling out in a bemused tone, “Well she burned a horn, just not the right one. Mance had us digging for it, until one day he leaves and only when he comes back did he say he had found it, whether I believed him or not.” Jon's head dropped, that too late was beacuse his Uncle Benjen had arrived that night of the feast, and took it. As soon as he left Jon from their conversation in the cold, he likely went straight to the crypts before Mance could get it.

He could somewhat hear Theon asking, “What did he want with it in the first place?”

“He wanted the crows to think he had it, so he could blow the damn Wall down to their knees. Thought if no one's ever seen it, no one would know the difference. Then this one showed up.” Gesturing across the table to Jon. His own brows narrowing in question what that even meant, knowing at that point Tormund could read his expressions well as anyone. “Knew right away you didn't believe it was the real thing, means if you went back to the crows you'd call him on the lie if he tried using it to threaten his way through.”

Lord Howland asking why Mance would think Jon would go back and tell the Nights Watch but still let him travel with them. Jon had to think of the actual answer, don't think about any of the rest, he told himself. His time with the free folk was more complicated then her alone, but it felt as if everytime his memory was dragged back to those years it was all he could think and see.

Inhaling deeply, Jon stood straighter as his arms crossed over his front. “Ned Starks son is a bad enemy to have walk into your camp, but a good ally if you can convert him.” Trying to keep an even tone, as much as any of these men knew, none really understood. None of them could imagine why Jon struggled to look back to any of it.

Ser Davos, thankfully, interjected the spiral forming in Jons mind. “Not a smart gambler, he was. I don't think I've known any man to look at the Starks and think they'd turn their backs on their own.”

Jon and Theon shared only a single glance, but said nothing of it. It was the past now.

Whatever conversation brewed around him, Jon still found himself trapped in those days. The free folk had all talked endlessly and so much of it seemed as if they were only stories with no true understanding of any importance they may hold. Or what they meant. As if it wasn't until Hardhome did many understand what was at stake in truth.

When it slipped out, Jon knew he almost had to back up and reconsider what he even meant. “I don't think it brings the Wall down.” Glancing up to Sam, elaborating, “If the Wall was built with some kind of magic to protect it, why then make something that can tear it down? Why make it so easy?”

Something akin to realization passed over Sams eyes, looking to Tormund. “When they say it can bring down the Wall, does it say exactly that? Wherever it's written?”

A chuckle passing over the taller man, and an amusement in his eyes growing. “It's written nowhere, boy. Just stories we'd tell each other when there's nothing better to do.”

His own eyes squinting in a hint of thought, Jon caught onto the thought passing through Sam. The later man asking almost to himself, “Meaning it's possible it does something else entirely. After all, if it's that dangerous why hide it under Winterfell where there's this many innocent people?”

Flickering to the door and back again, trying to contain that feeling trying to rise back up, Jon almost shook the thoughts from his head. “If my Uncle didn't want anyone to find it, he wouldn't have buried it where he did.”

Your eyes drifted more then once to where they were all discussing things. Bright sun reflecting off the snow shined in the window as you paced slightly, peeling your gaze back to the now slumbering one fully resting against your front. Gilly breaking the quiet, “Do you want me to take him?”

Glancing with a raised brow, she specified because he was asleep. A soft smile fell over you however, looking down at him before returning to her. Pacing a bit closer. “I've helped raise a number of little ones over the years, but Sam here might be the most well behaved of them all so far.” Moving ever so carefully, you slunk into the seat adjacent to her. “As long as he's not crying, I can handle him, I assure you.”

Looking between the book in front of her, and you, there was a hesitation on Gilly's mind. Luckily for you, she was good at speaking in the quiet now. “How old were you? When you learned how to read?”

Inhaling as you leaned back a slight more comfortably, only did the vaguest of stretches in your mind reach that far off. “Around three I imagine it was. As soon as I was old enough to hold a quill, my father would have me spend the morning with our Maester reading the letters, and then in the afternoon he'd take me and have me write out everything I had learned before.”

Eyes a bit wider, you almost were envious of Gilly's mannerisms. How she still found intrigue in the world that came to her with such an ease. You weren't sure you had ever been like that. “And that's normal for you? South of the wall, to learn so early?”

Almost going to shrug a shoulder before the weight by it reminded you to stay put. “Maybe not that early for most, but learning young for highborns is normal. Most people though, plenty will go their entire lives without ever being able to read a single letter. They live in villages where all but none know how, so who would be there to teach them?” It was easy sometimes to forget that most of the world did not have the kind of privilege of learning. It came so naturally around the noble women and high Lords you grew up around.

Arms now perched along the top of the page, she narrowed her eyes with a flashing of not quite envy or even sorrow, but an accepted defeat. “I think my father knew how to read, but he never really told us beacuse he didn't want us learning and reading anything that the Nights Watch would come by with. I didn't used to know why, but maybe if we knew how to read he'd think we didn't need to rely on him.”

Glancing down slightly to Little Sam still fast asleep with a strain in tone, as you tried not to clear your throat, “Keep your lessons up, and you'll have more going for you then over half the people in Westeros. A woman who knows how to read is a dangerous thing.”

The smile on her almost bashful, it was so easy to see why she and Sam fit with one another. Both had a spirit about them that wasn't yet broken by the world. Despite everything giving them reasons too. She shrugged her own shoulders, looking back to the page. “Sam will be three next year, do you think I'll know enough I can start teaching him that early?”

The boy in question shifting slightly again, your hand moving along with him to gently lean his head more into the space between your shoulder and neck and running comfortingly down his back. “If we keep up at this rate, I don't see why you wouldn't be able to start trying. When you're more ready for it, I can have you start writing as well. You need to know the letters before you can write them, but they go hand in hand once you are used to both.”

Fluttering back and forth between focuses, you had Gilly read out the entire passage in her head before turning to you without looking and summarizing exactly what it is it said. The past few days especially she had gotten very good at it. Something you always recalled your father telling you, that you needed to be able to do more then read the words on a page. That if you could read them but not understand them, you're no smarter then the average fool.

“You know, you used to be good at hiding what you were feeling.” Face twisting in a confusion, Jon turned half way from where he stood near the door to look at the approaching Sam. Nodding to just out the partially open space, the clearest eyeline from where Jons stood ended right where you were sitting. “I thought you didn't want children.”

The willpower it took for Jon to remain impassive despite the way his heart threw itself about in his chest, was almost impressive. Looking at him with barley a change in expression but a bit more of a sternness, Jon turned to look right back. Voice quiet as to not distract or catch your attention. “I didn't want any child I had to be a bastard. I never said I didn't want them ever.”

The tone attached to Sams voice got on Jons nerves and both men were entirely aware Sam was doing it on purpose. Just to garner that agitation. “Alright, so you want children. You're a married man now, and you're King in the North. What's stopping you?”

“Nothing.”

His answer was quick enough that it had Jon glance only partially to the side as if to try and gauge if Sam had noticed, but not committing to truly finding out. Arms crossed as he shifted to lean against the book case behind him a little less obviously staring at you. Whatever was on Sams expression Jon didn't want to see it. “Does she know you want that?”

Jaw clenching, his head dropped a bit as the rest of his face twisted too into something a bit more siding of pain, and his voice strained the same. “It's not that simple for her. Her child was murdered while he was still growing inside her. It doesn't matter what I want, only that she's ready for it when the time comes.” Everyday he saw the scar across you, and he knew you still tried to look at it as little as possible.

No offence meant, and only Sam could say it so casually as well. “If I were her, I'd get pregnant just to get you to stop watching me like that.” Brows narrowed as Jon in mostly a jest, glared at him but Sam had nothing but more of it at the ready. “Oh, you're going to tell me you aren't obsessing over the idea of getting her pregnant? It's only a coincidence you've barley been able to focus today beacuse you're twenty feet away from her walking around caring for Little Sam like that?”

Sam's name coming out in warning and the glare only increased. But no lines were crossed that were anything but blatantly true. “I can do more then one thing at once.”

Comfortable silence passing only with the muffled sounds of the outside peaking through when Sam spoke up once again. “Last time I saw you, we all still thought she was dead. Then I come back, and you're already married to her. I can't even imagine what it must have been like, seeing her again after all that time. It makes sense to at least think about it.”

But something was deepening in Jons eyes, the grey tinting darker and darker as it twisted around his heart like an addiction. That part of Jon wished he had kept you with him that night in Castle Black, away from the rest of them, away from anything to remind you of what nightmare you escaped. And unable to stop the fantasy in his mind, of keeping you on his cock without stop. Of not returning to the living world until he filled you with life of his own.

Jon aggravatingly thinking that if he had, you'd be about ready to give birth by now. His hands clenched tight as his arms stayed crossed over his chest. Not the time, nor the place to think about this. He didn't have you alone, he wouldn't for hours. He couldn't think about what you'd look like at every stage being with his child. Something he once thought he'd never get a chance with you.

Whatever playing along the woman once did, was all but gone.

Nothing but a bitter spite was left, and a glint in her eye that never quite got over itself. Something in her which if smiled, felt as if it were creeping and meaningfully distrustful. In truth it was easy to see the affiliation between her and the Boltons.

A similar coldness in her eyes that stayed quiet and collected in an unbecoming manner. If this was once a pleasant woman, she had been long gone. All that was left was someone who had been brought into the room as she moved that as a snake. Slinking about without effort but lacking the grace to give her presence. Being brought in, she stayed quiet as if to play games of who goes first, but she was going up against an opponent who refused to see fit for playing along.

“How long have you been spying for Lord Baelish?”

Barbery Dustin was not well suited for captivity, and yet as she glared with a spite in her eyes towards Jon, she did not attempt in anyway to make this easy on herself. Her voice cold and even less held back of a resentment then before. “You mean to tell me you have put everything else together but the when?” It wasn't really a question, only a demeaning accusation of character she knew nothing about.

Stayed quiet by the back wall of the room, Theon trained behind where she was sat and two guards on either side of him, all eyes were on her. But it was the unblinking complicated stare of Jon which set off the most nerves. Any chance she had looking to you was met with the same degree of stoic unchanging firmness.

Voice low but with a confidence that wasn't anywhere near her arrogance, Jon barley moved an inch as he looked at her. “This won't go any better if you avoid answering my questions. You and I both know you're guilty, but I'm giving you the chance to tell the truth on your own.” She didn't look away not speak, and neither did Jon for the seconds to follow.

Instead of any irritation, as if expecting just this, Jon moved on. “Every raven you've sent and received from the Vale as long as you have been here has a written copy in Maester Wolkan's study. I know you've been in contact with him. A man who had already betrayed my father, your Liege Lord.”

A twist of her face made her look that much more unpleasant, swift to drop her tone to a judgment that came out with a ill tempered ease. “You think it is wise to blindly trust what it is he claims? A fools choice. If I were Queen, the first thing I would do, would be to kill all those grey rats.”

Raise of your eyebrow as you looked to her, an interesting mistrust. Grudges of houses were one, but it was not common Maesters in the general sense were the untrustworthy party. But you kept quiet, Jon wanted you there but this was his questioning. His prisoner. Jon however continued to frustrate her, not paying any mind to her attitude nor unnecessary insults. “I trust in people who have shown loyalty and respect. Maester Wolkan isn't here to lie or trick me. He's here, beacuse I trust him, and I trust the ravens scrolls he's shown me are true.”

Quiet followed just as it had when he gave her the same chances in front of far more of their own people. Now though, the quiet was inexcusable. Jon's voice cutting through like a blade in the tense air between them. “Was it always your intention to betray my family? Or did you take the first opportunity that presented itself after your King was already dead?”

Both Jon, and yourself knew her eyes flickered up to you but nothing was stated about it as such. Jon would get to that. One thing at a time. Peeling her eyes back, sharp and on their own edge did she speak out in just the same shortness. “If you wish to know whether or not there was a time you could have kept my loyalty, I am afraid you are far too many decades late. Your father saw to that.”

Your eyes narrowed as did the racing of blood in your veins, and if you felt that defence coming rushing to the forefront it was tenfold in Jon. But he was better at composing himself them most, hardly a twist in his expression and tint darker falling over his eyes, were you not one keen on what meant what on Jons face only the rougher deepness of his tone could give away that anger. “My father didn't drag your husband and great Uncle to war by force. They went of their own free will.”

Anger in her grew just as held back. “And yet he came back when they did not.” Jon once more specifying that wasn't his fathers fault, but they both stared at one another until she found the wrong string to pull at. Or in her mind, the right one. “He came back, Howland Reed came back, but what did I receive? Willam's stallion, not his body, just his horse. He had room to bring home a corpse and some whore's baby but not a man who died for him.”

You could see in an instant how tense Jons shoulders became even from here. Muscles no doubt screaming as was the noise in his head and before he had the chance to let it get to him, you broke for his sake, giving a chance for him to breath in quiet. If such a comment would be a sore spot once, it was something else entirely now. Louder then either of them had been and with a sharpness giving no room for interjection. “Tell me, Lady Barbery. Would your former lover take so kindly to you speaking about his family in such a way?”

Oh the way her eyes snapped up to yours, as if she was caught red handed. Her lie was not convincing in the slightest. “William was not relative to the Starks-”

Jon didn't move, and you would speak until your eyes could flicker down and see him on the side of calmer. “I believe I said lover, not husband. The man you felt cheated out of having beacuse he was promised to a woman who wasn't you. I ask again, do you think the way you want to remember Brandon Stark is to call the sister he died trying to save, nothing more than a corpse? Or to have sided with the man who murdered his nephew? Were I to take you down to the crypts this moment, could you truly say you would be able to even look at the statue of where he is buried with pride?”

You gave away even less to the woman then Jon had. Once more, it seemed few outside of the circle you already were close with, had no patience for such an unfeeling demeanour. Her glare far more furious then before. “Roose was following orders-”

Rough and once more full of a heavy weight did Jon force her eyes back to him. “Robb was his King. And he didn't murder him for anything but power and money. But the thing is, I can't see Tywin Lannister reaching out to him so directly. That's a risk going right to him about committing treason.” Leaning forward, it seemed as if his confidence dwindled her own the more he spoke. “If I go looking, will I find a trail of ravens from Kings Landing, to the Vale, to Barrowton and finally reaching all the way to Harrenhal? I'm willing to bet I would. Beacuse I think, Petyr Baelish played you right into his hands to give Roose Bolton an offer.”

That time she looked away. Nowhere to go or distract herself with. Just the quiet as if forcing her to reflect on where she was, what she needed to say or not say. How far was she willing to fight this when there were no more secrets of it? That time you spoke, but softer. “You approached Roose Bolton about betraying Robb Stark, and then in turn when he needed to smuggle me into the North undetected, you helped him to do so. He was married to your sister, you were fond of his firstborn son, it's understandable you wouldn't want to turn him away.”

Not being able to see the narrowing in his eyes slightly, you missed how Jon seemed taken back by the sympathy, even moreso as you continued. “So you convince Lord Roger to side with the Boltons, but you and I both know Ramsay, my lady. He murdered your nephew, and then he murdered your only real ally in the North.”

Tilting her head suspicious to the side, she asked in a whisper nearly, “How did you know about Domeric?”

Your eyes found Theon in silence and unease. If there was anything Ramsay did more of then torment, it was talk endlessly. Putting it all together now, it was no wonder Roose having a son with Walda was a threat. He likely poisoned Roose's first trueborn son in the first place. No wonder he was so violent about getting you back, Ramsay had always sought more power and positions then he ever deserved. Long before Robb Stark's widow was there to be forced to birth a Bolton heir.

“Lady Barbery,” Jon catching her focus once more. “Whatever the grudge you held against my father, you still were once someone my Uncle Brandon cared about. It's for his sake I'm giving you a chance to be honest with me. Tell me what you know. All of it.”

She was quiet, eyes looking through him at you before focusing once more. Sitting straight as she could, face impassive and cold as ever. “I will share what it is I know, but only if they leave.”

Only from what you could see did Jon give a single nod, and you looked up to beckon Theon over without further question. “Come on, give them the room.” Her eyes met yours only for a few final moments, in a way maybe you could've felt pity, but you knew Jon struggled to grace her with that as well.

She had one more thing to say though, calling out to you with something unreadable in her eyes. “Tell me, your grace, do you miss them? Those hounds of Ramsays? You were awfully fond of them.”

You said not a single word before you left.

It had felt like years ago again, thinking herself back to the day Barbrey Dustin walked the hall of her Keep towards the main gates. She was to expect two arrivals, but this first was far before the second would ever arrive. Receiving word from her brother in law, he and the remainder of their bannermen would be making their return home but would take more time then expected.

As she stepped out into the brisk air as men yelled to open the gates, a group of horses rode in with the sigil she had long grown accustomed to within her life. Men she knew, many she did not care to learn the names of, and yet her eyes looked to one thing then the other. Dragging along a cage now covered up from any sight, she knew something not of the plan had occurred, and she did not greatly appreciate surprises at that point.

But her eyes, dark and stern as if a smile had not graced her face in decades withheld whatever existed of ire of the sight. She was large, but Barbrey knew she would be. Young, but she did not care of what age men took for wives when not her business. What she cared about, was that this new wife was in her home at all. But she would play nice.

Allowing them to approach her, neither her nor he bothered with formalities. She and Roose Bolton went far back enough that this Walda was likely still a babe then. “My lord.”

Curt as always, and he returned in his normal flat nature. Turning to the girl, “Walda, this is Barbrey Dustin. An old friend.” Thinking to herself, so he was keeping it simple in front of her. Good she thought, let her be ignorant.

The girl gave a naive hello, as with only a nod in return Barbrey turned to the servants waiting behind her. “Tend to the horses. Assure they are fed, watered and rubbed down. And show Lady Walda to one of our guest chambers.” One of the maids passing her by, guiding her into the Keep, Barbrey did not presume that time to hide the snide manner in which her eyes narrowed. Following the girls path until she was no longer in sight. Flickering them to then the cage and back she stepped forward as her tone lowered. “I presume that is the issue you wished to speak with me about?”

Only a nod, he kept it as even as she did. “Our situation has changed.”

Settled a bit more, walking into her study Barbrey dismissed the servants already inside. Closing the door leaving mostly firelight to illuminate her preferably hidden away room. She had known Roose enough to not even bother with a drink other then water, he was insistent about his lack of consuming anything of an alcoholic nature.

It had been one of the first things Barbrey's sister Bethany had shared about her new husband many years ago. Her husband's strange tendencies, but her sister never seemed to be deterred by it so Barbrey took up the same mantle. Placing it in front of him as she faced his sitting position, she was in little mood for whatever this was.

“I do not appreciate being blind sighted that you wish to use my city as your personal smuggling route.” He begun with an insistence that was not the case, but Barbrey raised an eyebrow. “No? So you are not hiding what you have dragged into my home, other then your young wife.”

Hardly twitching at all, “I wouldn't have expected you to care about such differences in age.”

“Perhaps Roose you could place yourself in my position. I inform you I will be coming into your home uninvited, needing something discreetly handled, after being gifted a brand new title with the lands I killed a King and a Queen for, and offer you nothing but inconveniences when I arrive.” The stare went on for some time, both well knowing she would not fold before any else.

Raising his head a slight bit he elaborated. “I need something smuggled with me to the Dreadfort. Something that cannot be taken on any main paths or go through anywhere near a populated area.” Asking what this item would be, she did not expect the answer. “The Queen.”

Barbrey narrowed her eyes as her tone shifted to something akin to a lecture. “You brought a rotting corpse into my home-”

“She's alive.”

Nothing but wind was heard from the outside walls. That was not the arrangement, she did not pass on such information with such risk for him to fumble arguably one of the most important aspects. Were she a woman to fly off the handle, she'd have dove right into a lecture to him for his irresponsibility. Killing Robb Stark was one thing, but the entire purpose of killing the Queen in the North first, was because she was carrying his child, his heir. “I don't believe keeping her alive and with a son in her womb was part of the instructions given to you.”

He only kept his calm towards her held back ire. “I did kill her.”

Once more her irritation flared up. Taking a step closer as if speaking to a child looking down at him. “If she is alive, then you did a poor job of killing her, didn't you?”

But what he said was odd. “I did kill her, Barbrey.” Taking pause she tilted her head in confusion. Roose stood up slowly explaining his position. “I stabbed her in the stomach, three times. Tore her womb open significantly enough that she bled to death within a minute. No pulse, no heartbeat, no life in her eyes, not even anything in the way of blood left when I was finished with her.” Still Barbrey did not move. “She was as dead as the King, and yet when I returned to the hall some time later, she was alive. Unconscious, but alive, and she has been ever since.”

Something unnerved sat within her chest. Such a feat was impossible. “I presume Tywin Lannister has not heard this story.” Ensuring only he, the small garrison of men with him and now her knew about it.

“I need to get her into the Dreadfort unseen, unknown, before the North has a chance to hear she's alive. Before the Starks hear shes alive.” As she told him sternly that the Stark men were all dead, Roose rose only an eyebrow before passing her by.

Moving further into her study, she turned to follow with shortness on her tone. “Theon Greyjoy killed the two Stark boys, there is no one left to support her-”

He had not turned to face her, but was looking at whatever bit of information kept out on her desk he felt entitled to glance at. “Robb Stark has a bastard brother at Castle Black. From what I have gathered he and the girl were extremely close. If she is the only survivor of the night which killed the rest of the family-”

It came out suddenly but with an anger she knew he did not understand. “A massacre you mean to call it.” Roose looked at her with a curiosity at her change in tone, and she stepped further into his proximity to now prominently speak down to him. “You did not loose men that night, Roose. I did. My men. Do not speak of it as if the Starks were the only casualty. You lose no men while I lose many, and then you drag the Queen into my home telling me I need to help smuggle her into the Dreadfort? For what purpose?”

The problem was he was right, and it frustrated her to no end over it. Roose knew she despised that bastard of his, he himself never denied her suspicions that that Ramsay Snow had killed Domeric, her own nephew. Roose and Bethany's own son, but he kept the vile thing around and was parading him around the North now as if he was always meant to stand in Domerics shoes.

But he could not be ensured Walda would deliver him a son, and even if she did, the boy would not be of suitable marrying age to tie him to you for far too long to wait. He had the Queen in the North alive, secretly in his grasp and he intended not to waste such an opportunity. But he could not smuggle her there alone, which was why he was here. Why Barbrey was expected to put up with his new wife which was not her sister, and eat what precious food from her own harvest she had.

She had to be sure though. The dead of night the two made their path to where the cage was being kept as both dismissed Locke watching guard over her. Low words spoken between as to not carry in the night wind. “If the Lannisters are not considering the bastard as dangerous, why should we? If he is at Castle Black, what is he to do with the knowledge his sister in law is alive?”

Roose picked at a sore spot on purpose. “How many Starks do you know Barbrey, that take threats to those in their family lightly?” Her glare spoke many volumes, they both knew that was uncalled for but he said it anyways and she would remember it.

The coverings were lifted, and the sight was something she had never seen. Barbrey almost did not recognize her as a person. Utterly soaked in blood she could not even tell what colour her gown was meant to resemble in the first place. Lifting enough to show the wounds now littering her womb her eyes went wide as the rest of her frowned at the brutality. Not a man to spare a single mercy she knew Roose was, but it did give credence to his words.

No. Bastard or not, none of Stark blood would take kindly to this kind of sight being carved into a person they cared about. But feeling the pulse now existing as well as the faint sight of breathing moving up and down in her chest, Barbrey knew that this was indeed a secret needed to be kept tightly bound.

Perhaps it was why as she agreed to help smuggle the Queen in the North across to the Dreadfort, did she also withhold the information that she was still in contact with the man who brought her into such plans in the first place. Or that she would withhold this information from Lord Petyr Baelish in return.

Staring at the sight of the living, blood soaked body of their Queen, Barbrey had felt a strange feeling that the future was not anywhere near as promised to be fruitful as the men in her lives full of deception wished it was going to be.

And sitting across from that same bastard, now King in the North with you alive and married at his own side, she perhaps begun to finally feel the resentment for Roose Bolton. She should have turned him away the moment he dared ride into her home with a young wife at his side that was not Bethany.

But now the Boltons were dead and Barbrey was not. Perhaps she thought as she sat across from Jon Snow, that honesty this time, might be the only way to ensure he would not sentence her to a fate which would have her finally join all the dead which came before.

“You think she'll tell him the truth?”

Inhaling deeply you forced yourself to remain calm, not to let the scorching horror seep too deeply and from the way Theon walked just as tense you both were one in the same. “She has no allies left, and by now word likely has already reached Barrowton. The only family she has is in Lord Willam's brother, and he's been nothing but loyal to Jon since the fight against Ramsay. But everyone else here knows what she's done now. She has nowhere else to hide.”

Glancing at the other, once more you could read how easily you were each walking around the actual subject as he asked with a rough clearing of this throat. “She's still an ally of Littlefinger.”

But you shook your head, stern voice with no room for doubt. “Littlefinger doesn't have allies. Only friends he fakes until they are no longer of use. And with the North knowing what she's done, Barbery Dustin is an inconvenience to him.”

These very halls were almost the problem, it was ones you and Theon both had spent so many years in but also the ones faking themselves as home in horror. If you truly thought on it, most places you had called home were always filled with it, with pain and trauma.

It was inescapable your whole life.

The warmth around was the only solace you found for quite a while as you were there. Just enough steaming water that you could handle it, and quiet around to soothe the grating beat in your head that persisted. Somewhere in the back of your mind you noticed the sound but nothing really came to you until the warmth in the water was almost overtaken by above.

A large figure learning down from behind where you sat in the water as a hand slunk around your front, palm resting along your collarbones to pull you back better. Your own head tilting back somewhat as the feeling of Jons lips finding the top of your head came to you, his curls brushing down along your skin as his other hand tilted you by your jaw somewhat to him.

Your hand reached back with a sigh leaving you, running through the strands as you could, eyes slipping closed at how even in muffled mumbles, Jons voice still found a way to entrance you. “Is it too much to ask, I come here at the end of the day and find you like this more often?”

Trying to turn to see him a bit better, but not quite being able to move beyond his hold. Soft your tone came out as if not to disturb the quiet peace between you both with a hum. “Not quite sure, sacrificing the peace and quiet for your company? A hard decision, your grace.”

Putting gold on it, you'd be willing to bet Jon playfully rolled his eyes as he leaned his head better to find your neck, pressing his lips there with only a feather lightness. Breath warm as he mumbled into you, “What if I made it a command?”

A breathy laugh left you on a whim, pulling a far more comforting sounding chuckle as from Jon as he sung it right back. Your tone that time only genuine in an affectionate want, “I don't prefer the water as scolding hot as you do, so I'd suggest joining sooner rather then later before it's cold by your standards.”

Another laugh into you followed by a much longer left kiss to your neck, your eyes slipped shut with almost a sigh as soon as Jon pulled away. Heart longing in your chest to plunge out and reach back for him as you felt him stand.

It almost was intimidating, having nothing to see. Only the sounds of clothes being pulled off, and your nerves festering about as you waited for Jon to do or say anything. Once he may have gently prompted you to move up for him, but by now, Jon had little care for waiting. Climbing in right behind you, Jon grasped at your hips under the hot water and lifted you somewhat up and back into his chest.

Only sitting you back down at his front before one of those hands slipped along the skin. Fingertips tracing along your stomach until laying flat and soothing on your scar. Pulling back for you to rest your head back by his shoulder, as the other hand of his rose up. Resting ever so carefully at the base of your neck only enough to prompt your head to tilt so he could better keep his dark eyes on you.

Your eyes closing as he leaned down to your space, nudging your nose with his before cupping your jaw to keep you there long enough. But only with a tease, a kiss so barley there you may have otherwise imagined it had he not spoken, hot breathe flashing along your skin to follow. “Are you sure you're alright?”

Exhaling deeply, you kept your eyes closed. Unwilling to look at what you knew on him was far too much worry bright in his eyes. For a while he didn't move even as you shifted to face forward once more, just kept you at bay against him in the water before you found a softer voice. “I know you don't like these visions, but you cannot pretend they don't exist. I'm having more of them and more then once it's like we've been in the others dreams when they happen.”

Hands rising up from the water, you slowly moved one along his arm by your neck, before he moved, grasping your hand best he could from that angle. The other resting just along his wrist, should you press your thumb down you'd feel his pulse, every so slightly faster anytime he had you like this. Rasping in your ear, an insecurity hinting in what he said. “We had them before, but it was easier when I thought it was only me. Then I saw you that day, knew you were looking right at me and I know what you thought you saw.”

Not quite relaxing was the word, but certainly using him more for any support you needed to keep as upright as he wanted. “I knew you had every right to move on, we didn't even know if we'd ever see each other again. But, seeing it firsthand was..I only ever had dreams before. That was the first time I saw anything awake like that..so I knew I couldn't pretend it wasn't real.”

He sighed deeply, moving his head down to find your neck almost as if hiding there. Muscles behind you against your back tensed, as did the hand holding yours. Only slightly did you move your head, back a nudge against him almost the way Ghost would do so in his own managing of comfort. The hand on your scar almost tightened enough it didn't pass your notice before he roughly hissed out, “When I came back to Castle Black and Sam told me about you and Robb, I was so mad. At the Lannisters, the Boltons, the Freys, all of them. But I was also so mad you saw that, saw her. I thought you died thinking I didn't love you anymore.”

Lie, a small voice whispered inside you. Lie and comfort him, but would he want that? Would Jon believe you if you did? “I did.” If he could have hidden himself in your neck more, Jon would've managed it. Your grip on his own hand tightened, and hardly a sound would be heard if not mere feet way from you both. “I hated that I would think about you when Ramsay would...” Your eyes slipping shut as your lungs tightened enough it strangled the waters behind your eyes. “I'd think of anything we did all those years ago, and I'd hate it beacuse I knew you had forgotten about me. I didn't even know if you still cared.”

Brows furrowing, Jon raised his head to look at you, a rough drop in his throat as he couldn't decide on feeling angry and offended or horrified at the thought. “I never wanted you to see her. I never wanted you to see any of it. I didn't go to the Wall thinking I'd get over you one day.” If he'd ease up on how tight his arms held you, a temptation swam through your veins asking you to turn around to see him properly. But Jon was stronger and more stubborn then that. “None of the things you've seen, dreams, visions whatever they are, they've never done anything but hurt you. They're still hurting you, only now I have to watch.”

Your whisper was faint against the temperamental way Jon was holding himself back. “And it isn't going to stop.” He was quiet, heavy breaths dancing along your skin at your neck. “They're getting stronger for a reason, Jon. I can't ignore them, I won't.”

“Why?”

Rasping harsh against you, you felt his urge to raise his voice against not wanting you to think he wanted to shout at you. Your hand moving enough in his, to run your thumb just along the back of his hand, a soothing back and forth that didn't help. “I came back for you. Whatever brought me back, did so, for you. To bring you back, fight beside you, and now whatever this is, is happening to me so that I can help you.”

You heard him quite muffled, and too indistinguishable to sense the feeling behind. “I don't care-”

Somehow, your gentle tones were louder then his muffles. “Thoros has the power he does, beacuse he's meant to use it to help Lord Beric. That's his purpose. And I won't ignore that mine is you.” He repeated himself, albeit a bit louder but you fought against the tense hold around your frame. “How much death we're surrounded by, and the only two people who have ever brought someone back to life, are in the same place as the only people who've ever been the ones to come back. But I can't just whisper words and bring the dead back, instead I have whatever this is and if-”

Grip around you tight, Jon pulled from his hold as the edge against your ear raised with his anger, and cracking with something painful unable to hide behind it. “I don't care about any of that.” Jaw clenched as his words hissed in your ear as if offended by every word you had just spoken. “Winter is coming and it isn't going to stop for us to figure out whose special and why. I didn't come back for any fate, I came back beacuse you brought me back. And I don't care about wasting my time figuring out what that means to anyone else. I'm fighting to protect my people, and my family where I couldn't before. Don't ask me to put you at risk just so I can figure out how to stop all of this a little bit faster.”

“Jon-”

Interrupting you, his tone dropped from a yell down to a rasp as his head rested against the side of yours. “You don't matter to me because you could be useful. You matter beacuse I love you, I always have been in love with you, and now that you're my wife you want to sit here and justify to yourself why I do.” Stripping you down to your bare frame, even moreso then the physical one sitting before him, your blood slowed down until it came to a dramatic stop. As did your lungs, no air leaving your slightly parted lips as his grip around you tightened once again. “You're right, I can't stop these visions from happening to you, but don't ask me to help make them worse.”

Pushing up enough, you slightly turned your head to see the curls by your side vision as your breathless ask sounded almost meek in comparison to him. “I'm sorry.” Sighing deeply, Jon almost read your own mind, moving his hands to your hips, prompting you to turn to face him.

Settling you gently in his lap, while one hand cupped your cheek as he sat up to better reach your perched height. His eyes far softer then the grating scold just given to you, bright and wide and so easy to read you could melt. “You were a Queen longer then I've been a King. You've proven yourself enough, let me catch up at least.” A hint of a smile twitched in your lips, but Jon caught every single moment of it. A brighter shine in his own as a gentle smile did fall over his own. “How about, you tell me when you see something, and we handle it then, but not before. I'm protective about you enough.”

Your hands draped along his shoulders, one dancing your fingertips up to scratch gently along the facial hair covering his jaw. Inhaling deeply, you held back the very worry you knew he could sense. Nodding your head, you leaned a bit closer to his warmth. Jon letting the hand on your cheek slink to keep you stable pressed against the top of your spine. “I think the word protective might be underselling yourself a little.”

Expression on him changing none, the same brightness as he used the leverage of his hold to pull you closer. “Choose any other word, but they're all the same thing to me. Winter is getting closer then everyone thinks, and I'm not about to start easing up on how much I want to keep you safe when it gets here.”

Heart was too light, as if it was ready to rise from your chest and fling itself into his possession. Leaving a trail of only need and a lightheadedness in it's wake. “If this is you being obsessed, I can't imagine how you could possibly get any worse.”

A handsome smirk fell over his face, eyes narrowing playfully as he toyed with the hair loose down your back. “Not much of an imagination, you have.” A small laugh left you, telling him that was a given and it only brought out even more of what you adored across him. Such a bright and easy laugh that you would do anything to see and hear the rest of your life.

Slinking to rake through your hair with more of a hold, Jon pulled you down the remaining distance as he leaned up to brush gently against your lips with his. Words coming out as a husk, with his dark eyes almost hooded as he looked to them, down further and back. “Just wait until the day I get to bring you out to our people, and tell them you're the mother of my child. You won't be able to leave my sight then.”

His eyes growing greedier, he no doubt caught the flush travelling up from between your legs, along your chest and spreading across your face as your nails dug into his shoulders more. Something inside your head almost begging you to submit as if it was all you were good for, but you resisted.

He liked when you were patient.

Though, it was unmistakable that he could drift his gaze down and see your bare chest for him heaving just a little more as your breathing grew faster. Only a whisper against what was a beaming shine of confidence in his touch, words and gaze. “Whatever you want.”

Roughly, Jon forced your lips to meet in the middle. Wrapping an arm around your back to pull your lower half in the water firmly against his hips, but keeping your lips right against his at no mercy but what he chose or did not chose to give you. Rough and deep in an instant, Jon just barley felt you pressing against his cock before he bit at your bottom lip.

Hand twisting your hair to serve at his call, Jon ran his tongue along yours and tasted inside of your mouth with a growl forming in his chest. Pulling you down into his kiss as much as he could, the whimper leaving you as already you felt that breathlessness dizzying, which made his cock throb. Hard as he could be and yet if something could make him even harder, it was such an innocent sound contrasted to how he touched you.

Hands tangling in his curls, his own drifted from around your back to forcing your hips up against his with a hand spread roughly across what he could reach of your ass. Fingertips digging into the plush skin, and another whimper much needier this time was gifted into his kiss, forcing another growl in his own chest.

It hadn't been brought up since, but you knew too well Jon was tied between two things. Wanting to sink deep inside your cunt like the wolf he was, and turning you around then and there and reliving how cruel it felt to pound into your ass so roughly. One was an addicted, obsessive instinct that was driven by something far more feral, while the other was something much more perverse and debauched that before him, was something you never would have even considered wanting.

He started so gentle too, but by the end he was so lost in the feeling, so far gone that unlike the Jon you knew, he had all but shoved you onto your hands and knees. Desperately needing the leverage from such a hold to pound his cock inside your ass so roughly that it brought tears, and yet your moans of confusing pleasure to mix with his grunts. Something about how much he let loose that night, something inside of you almost craved it again.

You wanted to be good for Jon, but you also wanted him to use you for what you knew, was a multitude of dark and utterly dishonourable ways he desired to fuck you. Wrapping your arms more around his shoulders and back, Jon grasped your waist to keep your bare breasts pressed against his torso, still not a hint of leaving your lips alone to gasp for air.

Finally as he tore from your lips, swollen and shining both of yours did he press your hips into him even more as he moved to your neck. Biting and licking and sucking a bruise into the now bite dented skin, you knew if he were more selfish he'd have pulled you down onto his cock already. But perhaps, it was for the best.

Considering that the next loud sound to emerge in the room was not from either of you. It was a knock to his chamber door. Pausing, Jon grasped your waist as he pulled back somewhat. Grey eyes almost black as he looked up at you, the innocent, overwhelmed need in your own eyes just made his cock throb between you again.

Then the next knock welcomed itself, along with the guards voice calling out. “Samwell Tarly to speak with you, your grace.”

The grip on you Jon had tightened to the same degree his jaw clenched it was almost funny. Muttering in a low hiss as his eyes peeled from your eyes, down your frame, soaked from the water and perfect for him, “I'm going to kill him.”

If that wasn't enough, the ease in which you let out a high pitched giggle once more, made his cock scream so much more to ravage you. His eyes forced themselves closed likely you knew to calm down his racing heart, a few deep breaths leaving him as well. Your hands gently ran down his curls to tame the more obvious mess you had started to put it in before he collected himself enough.

Surging up, Jon moved you with him, yanking you up and out of the water. Your hands braced against his shoulders to steady yourself as he muttered for you to wait. The cold air chilling against your bare skin enough to shiver by the time Jon returned. Having yanked on pants only enough to cover himself modestly, Jon wrapped something around you. Short and a dark silk like fabric to cover you too just enough.

Many men would have taken it with intimidation. The aggressive and short tempered manner in which Jon yanked the door open enough only he could be seen. “What?”

Sam's head jolted back just a bit. Many emotions scattered across his face as he took in the subsequent scattered scars of fatal nature littered about Jons torso. From an unsettled devastation at what he had never known took place before, to a slow realization of just why Jon had opened his door in such a state of undress when it was entirely unlike him.

“Oh...Oh.” From a short knowing sound, Sam devolved it quickly to that of an exaggerated mocking of pride for what he interrupted. Adding insult to injury, the same mocking as he asked “Bad time?”

It truly was a testament of how close the two men were, the degree to which Jon aggressively wanted to slam the door in his face and Sam taking full advantage of how he knew he wouldn't. “What is it, Sam?”

Waggling his eyebrow a bit, “I don't mean to interrupt, I just thought there was something you should know..but if you're busy..”

A heavy exhale left Jon as he closed his eyes. Words clear, and loud and short he was as controlled as he could be, considered how close he had gotten with you. “It can't wait until tomorrow?”

It was an amusing stand off. Jon, who was too honourable to actually force Sam to go away, and Sam, who was too much like a brother to Jon to give up taking advantage of that for his amusement. “I mean, it isn't life or death at this very moment, but it is important. Though, I suppose you were deep in something rather important as well.”

You had to turn away, covering your mouth to keep the laugh so desperately wanting to slip out from making it all the worse for Jon as it was. “Sam-”

“No, I understand. You're busy. I'll be where I always am if you find the time, if not I can always come back bright and early first thing.” You'd feel bad for how little Jon couldn't catch a break, if it weren't also terribly funny. Judging by the look you shared with Sam as you, once much more modestly dressed, followed Jon out, you both found a new shared activity. Having the innate ability to annoy Jon, with the advantage that he won't lash out for it.

The hand pressed at the small of your back the entire time however, spoke not of affection, but in how much Jon was going to tear everything off of you the second he closed his chambers door once more. A hint of just how roughly he was going to take you for enjoying his suffering, over and over until it was you the one begging for mercy.

Knowing Jon well enough, when his cock was deep inside of you, he had no mercy.

“I was thinking about what you said, about the horn being left for a reason.” Animated in his findings, there were many pages of what he had been transcribing laying about as well, moreso then you had seen that morning. “But I started wondering, what if only certain people can use it. If it's that dangerous then you're right, leaving it in Winterfell seems risky, but what if your ancestors kept it here, because they're the only ones who could use it?”

Brows narrowing, you stood next to Jon, looking over the work scattered about trying to see at the same time anything which way stand out. Jon asking, “Why would they make it so only House Stark can use it?”

“Well, you don't think it takes the Wall down the way everyone says. Maybe it's not for that though, if it took down the Wall it means your ancestors made something that destroys any defences they built themselves. That didn't make sense, so I started to wonder what else it would be used for. But what if it's similar to the way we use the horn at the Wall? What if somehow they used it to communicate something?” Your eyes flickered up, question on both your lips as he elaborated once more. “Think about it, we used a horn to communicate at the Wall, and everything you described makes it sound like they're not unlike us. They have people, ranks, they communicate but we can't with them..what if you're ancestors found a way through whatever this does?”

Nodding a bit, his eyes squinted as he grabbed it from where Sam stood opposite of him. Turning it slightly as you leaned more to his side to look it over. You asking quietly, “How would that end up turning to a story where it destroys the Wall?”

Jon had a quick answer to that. “Same reasons why we know next to nothing about the Long Night. No one's ever translated the runes of the First Men to our written language. So the story gets passed down until there's nothing left to learn from.” Putting it down gently, Jon affirmed they needed to figure out exactly how it works and quickly.

You were quiet, eyes trained on the horn with little more then a mutter. “How can we be sure it's even possible? Doesn't seem like they've tried peaceful negotiation before.” Gently you felt a slightly movement of his hand on your lower back, more of a massaging pressure at the wavering uncertainty in you.

Jons voice more gentle with you on an instant then with Sam, much to the later ones enjoyment. “They understand each other. They talk, even if we can't understand them. Means, they know language the way we do. Even if all they want is to kill us all, I want to know why. I want to know what we're dying to defend against.”

Words fluttered around you, but your eyes were trained on the horn. The bronze around each end with runes carved, you couldn't help but look between four of them. All desperate which did not stand out yet you kept looking at them. The way they were carved almost looked like something you'd seen before even though you couldn't place it.

Eyes drifting up to the papers about his desk, the images passed in your mind. Once only in dreams thought to mean nothing, next in a sight before your eyes not belonging to you but you knew them all the same. Cold and ice and crackling you couldn't stop seeing it and hearing it gathering around you as it went dark until your eyes had opened belonging to you once more.

You had seen it before. Moving quick, you paced around to a better angle of Sams desk as you grabbed paper and ink. The horn and transcribing both, you pulled them to you as Jon called your name in question. Shaking your head to let you think, both watched you looked between all three, penning something into the paper of an image.

“They attacked your brothers at the Fist of the First Men, and when you came across it Jon, you said the horses were scattered around in a symbol?” Asking in quick tones without yet looking up.

Coming around, an arm somewhat across your back as it to keep you between him and the desk as you leaned over it, Jon subsequently leaned over your shoulder. “Mance said that they had left symbols like that before. When they attacked people, some of the bodies get left behind on purpose.” Catching Sam up to speed on what it was he saw that day, leaving out the overwhelming fact that it was in fact that day, that Jon hadn't known if anyone he cared about there survived.

And the fear he felt having to pretend he didn't care in front of them.

You kept drawing, “Another attack on a small group of your rangers, they found a group of free folk they were tracking and found them the same way but in a different form. Like this.” Finally standing up proper, you looked to Jon with wide eyes. “The one you saw did it look anything like either of these?”

Leaning back down, Jon narrowed his eyes before motioning to one of them. “There. The spirals, that's how the horses were mutilated.” Looking to the other before finding your eyes, both of you with something unsure in them that did not hide. “That's what you saw?” You nodded, and Jon tilted his head a bit, hand coming back more along your waist to your back once more as you inhaled deeply.

Nerves coming through you. Looking to Sam, “Do you think you can find out what these symbols put together mean?” But instead of a curiosity, Sam had the same expression.

Only, for a different reason. “I could..but..I've seen those too.” Jons head snapped up to Sam in question, “It wasn't like that, not on any dead bodies..but I've seen those symbols before. In fact I've only ever seen them somewhere very specific.”

As Jon asked where, the answer was very clearly not at all what he was expecting.

#jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #jon snow #robb stark #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #jon snow x you #robb stark x you #jon snow imagine #robb stark imagine

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the-smut-analyst · 6 months

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Woah. Disney got dark, bro.

5 deliciously dark and smutty Disney retellings that will send you straight to hell.

You're welcome.

This blog post includes Amazon Affiliate links. Always check trigger warnings before reading. Your mental health is important <3

1. A Ship of Bones & Teeth by Karina Halle

Ever wondered how different the Little Mermaid might have gone if Ariel was a man-eating siren?

Well, then have I got the rec for you...

I'm not exaggerating about the man-eating thing, by the way. In Karina Halle's version of Siren lore, they quite literally eat the hearts of men.

And yes.

This does occur on page.

Instead of being a re-telling of the Little Mermaid and Prince Eric falling in love, A Ship of Bones & Teeth instead transports us 10 years into their marriage - where things ain't looking so dandy for the reformed siren and her royal beau.

Turns out that (surprise, surprise) our protagonist, Maren (aka Ariel 2.0: Heart-Eating Edition), kind of regrets leaving the sea behind. Especially since Prince Eric turned out to be an abusive deadbeat who only liked her when she didn't have a voice.

But then Captain Ramsay "Bones" Battista enters the chat.

Alongside his notorious crew, Captain Bones commandeers the royal ship, and takes Maren as a prisoner. (And that's when things start getting better down where it's wetter, if ya know what I mean).

If you like your characters morally grey, your male leads with a bit of swagger, and your smut with a light dose of bondage - then add this book to your TBR.

Available for purchase here.

2. Luxuria by Colette Rhodes

Ever wondered how much more fun Beauty and the Beast might have been if Beauty had a serious monster kink?

Well then, look no further...

Far from the standard whiny, blushing bride that often accompanies the arranged marriage trope, Ophelia likes what she likes - and owns it.

And what she likes above all else is Shades - aka the "shadow demons" she was raised to kill by her family of Hunters. Yup. This version of Beauty has a serious monster kink.

So when a peace treaty is eventually brokered between the Hunters and the Shades - and part of that peace treaty involves sending a bride to the Shadow Realm to marry the king - Ophelia is like...

But instead of all her monster-banging fantasies coming true, Ophelia husband isn't interested. He's grumpy, suspicious, and does his best to intimidate his new wife every chance he gets.

Little does the King of Shades realise, however, that Ophelia is totally into all the snarling and growling. Instead of being scared, she's actually like...

It's a bit of a slow-burn to start, but once King Allerick realises that the scent his new wife keeps giving off is actually her arousal, not her fear? Well... Let's just say the slow-burn turns into a full-on forest fire.

If you like books that make you laugh out loud, your smut on the kinky and consensual side of the Omegaverse, and your male leads to be more monster than man - then this is the perfect book for you.

Available for purchase here.

3. Velvet Cruelty by Eve Dangerfield

Ever watched Snow White and thought about how much better it would have been if, instead of seven dwarves, we got multiple hunter characters instead?

Well then, fret not, cause Ms. Dangerfield's got you covered with...

This Snow White retelling does not hold back. It is brutal, seductive, and decadent.

This one's not for the faint of heart. The themes and the sexual content is dark as hell. Like, it puts the dark in dark. Fans of the Saints & Sinners Duet, or fans of Mafia Romance in general, probably won't blink an eye - but for anyone new to this sinful little corner of the romance section - proceed with caution.

Seriously. This is a code red: dead dove do not eat situation.

Unlike a lot of "why choose" romance, there's no skimming in terms of character development and complexity here. The four "hunters" are awful but - in typical Eve Dangerfield style - they're also damn interesting. This author is genuinely brilliant at weaving complex, unique characters that draw you in.

If you like your romance dark as hell, with villainous love interests and a generous smut-to-plot ratio, then give Velvet Cruelty a try.

Available for purchase here.

4. Escaping Wonderland by Tiffany Roberts

Ever wondered how you might feel if the Mad Hatter and Cheshire Cat characters were blended to make a crazy-yet-kinda-hot hybrid?

Alright, maybe not.

But regardless, I am here to present exactly that...

Let's face it. Alice in Wonderland is probably the one Disney movie that really didn't need to get more messed up. It's already a thinly-veiled acid trip as is. However, if you can count on anyone to throw in a bit more dark and twisted (ya know, just for fun) then its the writing duo that make up Tiffany Roberts.

The smut in this book actually isn't too out there (aside from the fact that the love interest is basically a humanoid cat). What makes this retelling especially dark though is its themes.

In Escaping Wonderland, Wonderland itself is actually a medically induced hallucination. One that psychiatric patients are subjected to against their will, until they eventually lose their grip on reality.

If these themes aren't a trigger for you, then I'd highly recommend giving Escaping Wonderland a try. It's the perfect romance for readers who enjoy when sci-fi and fantasy intersect, as well as for readers who don't mind a bit of monster in their male protagonists.

Available for purchase here.

5. Titan by Jillian Graves

Did you ever watch the Hunchback of Notre Dame and think that those gargoyles were a bit of alright?

Well then, hold my beer...

Yes, you read that correctly. This is a Daddy-DOM romance featuring a wealthy gargoyle. Don't judge me. Only the Lord can do that and I've already burned that bridge.

I gotta admit, before this book I avoided the daddy kink like the plague. But now I consider myself a convert. Now I am more like...

Titan also gets bonus pun for the series title. I mean... Romancing His Stone?!?!

Brilliant. 10 pun points for Gryffindor.

If you like books that are kinky and consensual, include some well-thought-out world-building, and that are sex worker positive to boot, then walk, don't run - Jillian Graves has got you covered.

Available for purchase here.

Hope you enjoyed this smutty Disney list. I'll meet you all in hell!

#romance #romance books #smut #indie author #indie books #monster romance #disney retelling #book review #book recommendations #book recs #kinktober 2023 #fantasy romance #romantasy #book rec list #smutty books #dark romance #the smut analyst #tbr list

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dontbotherwiththepronunciation · 1 year

Text

Hey, I want to make a poll because the actual Theon fandom is interesting and I've been observing the way different people prefer interacting with the character in significantly different ways, so,

What kind of Theon fan are you?

The Kyra

Very into his more slutty, party-boy, hedonistic facet and the person he was prior to ACOK

Likes smut fics & AUs (modern or canon-setting) where Ramsay didn't happen or was much less impactful

Mostly interested in exploring (relation)ships to Starks and co. (Tully, Snow, Mallister, etc.)

The Jeyne Poole

Extremely apologetic. He has never done anything wrong in his life ever and the more you think about fandom's treatment of his "viler" acts, the more upset you get

You relate sad girl music (Mitski, Aurora, Lana del Rey, etc.) to him

Tooth-rotting post-ramsay (reunion) fluff is your go-to genre when searching for Theon-fanfic. Optimism might turn into delusion

The Asha Greyjoy

Enjoys canon-divergent AUs that get to explore the Greyjoy family dynamics and Ironborn heritage

Actually cares about political/magical/religious plot instead of just feelings, psychology and relationships

Not extremely into shipping, but probably a rarepair enjoyer who tries every dish on the table

The Barbrey Dustin

Your cringe at him started as contempt but then you realized it was actually projection

Mostly interested in the person he is during ADWD and the person he could possibly become during TWOW & ADOS

Likes gap-fillers, gen-fics or horror more than ships or AUs. Believes in some sort of thramsay

If you want to give me any more info (show vs. book-watcher, OTPS, NOTPS, opinions on implied rape/castration, whatever personal stuff you feel comfortable revealing) I'd love to read it on comments or tags or dms.

#theon greyjoy

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welldonebeca · 2 years

Text

The Things We Do For Love (II)

Summary: There is nothing Theon wouldn’t do to make Sansa happy. Bringing the only other man she had ever loved into their marriage isn't the most absurd thing he would do for her. It starts with just producing an heir, but this time, duty might lose its battle to love. WC: 4.2k words Warnings: Fluff. Hurt/Comfort. Smut. Oral sex. Breeding Kink. Mutual pining. Dirty Talk. Squirting. Multiple orgasms.

Masterlist

Jon left alone days after Theon, with just his horse and Ghost on his heel on his way to Winterfell, leaving Tormund in charge and lying about where he was going, taking a quick route back home and using a secret entrance to the crypt.

Theon had promised Brienne would go every night after the castle was asleep to find him, until the day he did arrive, so he just sat and wait, leaving Ghost out of the castle.

The whole time, his mind was rushing, just as fast as his heart.

What the fuck was he doing?

This wasn't right. He could impregnate his sis-...

His cousin.

His whole life, Jon had told himself he would never have a bastard child.

He never planned to get married, so he would have no children.

And yet, here he was, making a child! With Sansa!

As he walked through the crypt, he passed by his family. His father... her father, after all. Lord Stark had just raised him.

His statue was standing right beside Lyanna's, his real mother.

Would they have wanted this for House Stark? So many secrets and hiding...

What troubled him more, was not giving Sansa children. No, he would do it every day, any day, any time she wanted.

Jon loved her. He'd loved her since he was old enough to understand what love was, since he was young, and she was the prettiest girl in the whole world - she still was.

And it hurt. It hurt more than the knives he took to his chest, more than being sucked back into life, thrown back into a world that was nothing but cruel to him.

She was the only good thing he had in this life. She was the woman he loved!

And she wasn't his. Sansa wasn't his wife, she was Theon's wife.

And the children he would give her would never be his children, they would be Theon's children.

Theon, with the easy laugh, who always watched her with as much love and desire as he did.

His blood boiled when he passed his father's crypt and saw Robb's.

Would things be different had he stayed and fought by his side?

Would he still be alive, and Sansa would be free and not as lonely as he knew she was?

Maybe Theon would have never betrayed him.

Sansa would have never married Tyrion, and would never have married Ramsay. No, she would be safe and sound with her family.

And she wouldn't be his.

Or maybe she would, after everyone found out who his real father was.

Maybe he would be King now, with her by his side, as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Young Sansa would love that.

But he hadn't fought by Jon's side, and everything that had happened, had happened.

Theon had paid his dues, he knew that and respected him for it.

He understood everything that Jon felt, and if he had to choose any man alive to raise his children, yes, he would choose him.

Theon was still his brother through it all.

Jon raised his hand to his face and pinched his nose.

He could tell the crypts were wearing on him, that it was bringing more feelings than what he was willing to confront.

He could almost imagine Robb's ghost telling him to kiss and make up with Greyjoy already.

Jon snapped out of his thoughts when he saw a light at the end of the hall, coming in his direction, and turned to it, moving in its direction.

"Lady Brienne," he spoke as her figure slowly revealed itself to him.

She had stayed behind as Sansa's loyal knight, now part of her Queensguard, after Podrick had lost to be part of Bran's Kingsguard.

"King Snow," she greeted him, looking at him as if to a friend she hadn't seen in a long time.

"Just Jon," he corrected her. 'Please."

She shook her head a little bit.

"You sound just like the queen," she remarked.

Brienne was very tall - he almost forgot how tall she was. Sansa was very tall too.

Jon couldn't help but wonder if his children would be as tall - or taller - than their mother. Maybe one day, in twenty years, he would have to raise his head high to look at his daughters' faces, towering over him.

He hoped - very much, and for many reasons - that they looked like Sansa.

The halls are dead silent as they walked through them, and Brienne stopped just as they reached the wing that was always used for their family.

"This is where I wait for you," she told him.

Jon nodded, though a little worried about the distance - or lack of it, to be most specific - between the knight and the room. She would be able to hear everything that happened inside.

But she was a Queensguard, and Sansa's most trusted knight. She would take her secrets to the grave.

He pushed the door open with hesitance, quickly seeing a flash of red hair as Sansa paced back and forth by the fire while Theon was sitting, just looking at her.

Her hair was longer than he remembered, flowing loose over her back. This was the first time he even saw her hair like this.

"You are here!" she exclaimed, eyes turning from worried to joyful.

"I told you," Theon said behind her.

Sansa just ignored him, running to Jon and into his arms, and he held her tightly as he caught her, breathing in her delicious scent.

"You smell like flowers," he realised.

Sansa stepped back from him, looking at his face with excitement all over his face.

"I got a shipment from Highgarden," she told him. "Soaps, oils, perfume... everything. Do you like it?"

He was just in awe of her smile. She looked so happy.

He would do anything to make her happy like this again, as many months as he'd need to do it if it made her shine like that.

"I love it."

She smiled shyly, cheeks flushing pink.

"Let me take your coat," she said quickly. "You must be sweating because of the fire."

Oh, yes, Jon was sweating, but it wasn't for the fire.

She helped him out of his outer layers gently whiled Theon served three wine glasses for them, picking his glass up but not bringing it to his lips.

He was just down to his casual layers and with his wine glass in hand, sipping it, when she took a hand to his pants, ready to untie them, and jumped away like it was a hot pan.

"Sorry," she pulled her hands to herself. "Sorry. You just..." she hesitated, flushing. "You wear a lot of layers."

"It's alright," he assured her.

"I wasn't thinking," Sansa added, blushing more.

He couldn't help smirking.

"Oh, you weren't?” he asked, teasingly. "I thought you were just always thinking one step ahead of everyone, as always."

Theon chuckled a bit behind her.

"He's got you there, wife," he recalled. "He's got you there. Were you trying to skip the main course?"

Well, it was good to see how comfortable they were with the plan already.

Sansa's face and neck became redder, almost matching her hair.

"Oh, don't start, you two," she walked away.

"What do you mean?" Jon reached for her, grabbing her hand, not letting her step too far away.

"You two always used to tease me!" she protested.

Jon chuckled, shaking his head.

Well, maybe they had teased her a little bit, when she didn't know babies were made. It was one of the few jokes that he could share with Theon when they were younger.

"You thought princesses got pregnant by kissing," Theon spoke, halfway through a giggle. "It was funny."

She huffed.

"You two are the worst," she tried to move away from him.

He pulled her closer instead, back flush against his chest, half done with his wine glass already.

Jon pressed his nose over her neck, perfectly positioned to do it, and smelled a little more of her scent.

"Yes, we are," he agreed.

She whimpered, and he turned to look at her face, their faces standing just a few inches apart.

"We can show you how terrible we are," he added, still not much louder than a whisper.

Sansa panted, near breathless in front of Jon, staring at him, just a couple of inches away from his face.

He wanted to kiss her so badly, to taste the sweet pink lips that had tempted him throughout his whole life.

Before he did it, however, she did it herself.

Sansa's hand rested her hands on his shoulders just as he squeezed her waist, holding her close as she slowly devoured his lips, full of a desire that mirrored his own.

He squeezed the fabric of her nightgown, angry and almost offended by its presence.

Suddenly, he felt a hand brushing his, and was reminded of the other presence in the room, and Theon stood behind his wife.

"Let's take his off," he said gently, and Jon moved away, looking at them, and seeing Theon just pulling her gown over her head, revealing her naked figure, and shouting Jon with a strong look from behind her shoulder.

He knew that look. It was a threat. Hurt her, and I'll kill you.

Jon could never hurt her.

Sansa moved her hands up to hide herself the moment she was bare, not her chest or the red triangle between her legs, but places he knew were covered with scars.

He wanted to growl, to tell her how she was gorgeous and nothing would ever make her look less than.

But he didn't. Instead, he stepped away and took off his shirt, throwing it on the floor and showing his own scars to her.

"I won't do anything you don't want to," he told her. "I can leave, and we will never speak about this again."

Sansa shook her head, grabbing his hand.

"I want you to stay," she affirmed.

"Then let me see all of you," he reached up with his hand up, opening them for her to place hers over. "There is nothing in the wolf that can ever change how much I love you."

Sansa exhaled.

This was the first time Jon told her he loved her.

Slowly, she let her hands down and rested them on top of his, breathing in deep.

"You're beautiful," Jon whispered.

Sansa's lips curled in a shy smile.

"You didn't even look yet," she chuckled.

"I don't have to," he told her. "I already know."

Jon kissed her again, and followed Sansa when she pulled him to the bed, making Jon sit and sitting on his lap right after, and he reached between her legs, humming a little to himself at how wet she already was, and she whimpered when he played with her cunt.

"We started a little earlier," Theon spoke from his seat, and he moved back, looking at her face.

Sansa panted, and he pushed a single singer into her wet channel.

"Theon prepared me," she moaned softly. "We got a bit excited."

He licked his lips, feeling his cock hard under her, and played with her cunt, watching her red curls framing it beautifully.

"Lay down," he kissed her neck. "I want to kiss you."

Sansa shot him an amused look and stood from where she was sat on him, laying on the bed with her legs spread.

Jon took a moment to watch her, to see her like that, waiting for him.

He wanted to kiss her every inch. Her lips, her jaw and her long neck; down to the soft curve of her shoulder and her pale arms, then up again to her collarbones and the vale between her breasts, each the perfect side of his hands. Jon would make her pale pink nipples red with his bites and sucks - maybe he could even make her cum with just his lips around her nipples, he heard a whore once say it was possible - and only then would touch her middle. He would kiss her torso, caress her soft stomach and bite her soft flesh, and draw around her scars to show her how beautiful she still was.

And then, just then, he would spread her long legs, and give himself the pleasure of even seeing her sweet cunt.

But they didn't have the time, not today.

So Jon crawled onto the bed and pulled her leg over his shoulder, and spread her red-framed folds.

She was all wet, dripping from her sweet entrance to her round ass, and her little clit was a little swollen as if expecting his lips already.

"She is quite bendy for a lady," Theon spoke, and he raised his eyes for a second to see him sitting by his wife's side, looking at her with a little smirk on his lips.

He caressed her thigh silently, deciding to test it, pushing them up to her chest and spreading her completely to him.

Jon couldn't help himself, and rested his nose on her curls, inhaling her sweet sense, a mixture of the flowers with something he knew had to be just her, the purest essence of Sansa.

He pushed her a little more, so focused on testing her body, he was surprised to hear her moan softly, a sweet sound that no chorus could compete with.

"Why don't you ask him nicely for your kiss?" Theon asked, his voice in a dark tone.

Sansa whined, and he looked at them, finding her husband pinching her chest, gently teasing one of her nipples, watching her face with attentive eyes.

Jon kissed her inner thigh, caressing the side of her leg and her hips, waiting.

"Please, Jon," she sighed. "Kiss my cunt, please."

He nearly growled at the dirty word coming from his Queen's lips and obliged, sealing his mouth over her cunt as his tongue invaded her slit and devoured her.

Nothing could ever compare to her taste. The most delicate desserts weren't as delicious as her cunt.

He was just playing with her clit, teasing her, when he was shocked by two hands gripping his curls and pulling him harder against her cunt.

And he was happy to oblige.

"Gods," Sansa cried.

He gripped her thighs a little tighter, opening his eyes and looking at her face, and couldn't help but to be curious once he realised how Theon had just lips over her ear, whispering words he couldn't hear, but seemed to make Sansa moan even more.

Theon always had a dirty mouth. He couldn't imagine what he could be whispering in Sansa's sweet ears.

His fingers continued to play and pinch her nipples, twisting them and pulling them, making them redder and redder and her cunt wetter and wetter.

"Jon," she whined.

He pushed two fingers into her, focusing on her bud, without taking his eyes from them.

Theon's lips moved again, speaking a single word he still couldn't catch.

"Jon," she moaned louder.

His cock throbbed at the thrill of being called. If she was too loud, people would hear them and put two and two together, and yet, here she was, calling his name.

Theon shifted on his spot and reached down, pressing down on her low belly just as he caressed a little swollen spot inside her, and Sansa's moan was a mixture of a cry of pleasure and something feral.

"Did you find it?" he asked, looking at Jon's face. "The spot?"

He teased it inside her, and Sansa whined, just as he moved his lips away.

"I think so?" he frowned.

"It's different from everywhere else," he told him and raised two fingers, moving them together as a tickle. "And when you do this..."

Jon repeated the movement inside her, and Sansa cried out.

"Yes," Theon smirked. "You have found it."

"Please," Sansa whined, arching her hips, and her husband spread his fingers on her stomach, pressing it down, and Jon felt a little pressure on his fingers.

"Don't let it go," his old brother said simply.

He nodded before setting his lips back on her, continuing to fuck her with his fingers and play with that little spot, feeling her walls squeezing his fingers.

"You'll be in for quite a surprise," Theon said, and moved to kiss her earlobe.

Sansa closed her eyes, tossing her head back, and he could feel her walls so coated in wetness he knew his fingers could almost slip out.

"Theon," she panted, still squeezing Jon's hair as if she was holding onto life by it.

"Show him, pretty girl," he nosed her cheek.

"Theon," she whined.

"Don't you think Jon deserves to see how good you can be," Theon cooed her. "How much pleasure he is giving you?"

"It's too messy," Sansa protested.

Her husband kissed her jaw.

"But it's so good, isn't it?" he cooed. "And you're so pretty when you are messy..."

He looked at Jon.

"She loves to be fucked sloppy," he told Jon. "Don't you, sweet girl?"

Jon shot them a curious look, a little confused, but saved the question for later - Sansa and Theon were very comfortable in bed, considering everything, which meant they probably had something up their sleeves, and who was he to do anything but enjoy it?

"So why don't you show him how messy and sloppy you can be, my love?" he kissed her cheek. "Don't you want Jon to be covered with your wetness? To make his lips and beard drip?"

Jon felt his hunger growing and sucked on her clit, eager for what Theon was dangling in front of his eyes while teasing her.

Sansa cried out, and he felt her cunt squeezing his fingers, and felt her cunt gushing against his lips, covering his face and his beard with her wetness.

He continued to lick and suck her until Sansa pushed his head away, also pushing him away with a foot on his shoulder, whining and panting.

When he looked at her, Theon was kissing her lips hungrily, but Jon didn't have time to overthink it, as she reached for him the moment her husband let her go, pulling him closer and kissing him with hunger.

"You were so good," he crawled on top of her, panting and biting her lower lip when she moved away from his lips. "Came so beautifully."

Sansa whined, arching her body and pulling him closer.

"Fuck me," she whimpered. "Please, Jon."

Jon nodded, feeling himself growing a little anxious as he stood up and took off his pants, undressing quickly and climbing on top of her again, and looked at his side when Theon started to move away, quickly being held by the wrist by his wife, who quickly took his hand.

"Don't go," she whispered. "Please."

His whole body and face relaxed as the tenderness fell on all three of them, and Theon moved to her side on the bed, laying down with his face near hers.

He kissed her cheek and jaw gently, full of softness.

"It's going to be okay," he whispered, rubbing his nose on hers.

Sansa's blue eyes glimmered in unshed tears, and he swallowed down. Jon wish wished he could die again, just so he could go down through the seven hells and kill that dog again for hurting her.

Instead, he reached for his hand to her thigh, petting her silently as he grabbed his cock, lining it up and moving it up and down over her slit.

She looked at him, chest heaving up and down.

"Touch me," she pleaded. "Please."

Jon reached for her, caressing her stomach and side just as Theon ran his hands over her just as well.

He was still sat on his heels, and leant closer to be over her body, kissing her opposite cheek and jawline the same way Theon had been doing, and moved down to her chest, kissing the vale between them and licking her chest, pushing his cock inside her, earning a soft moan from Sansa.

He sucked on her nipple, licking the underside of her breast, pushing deeper into her, not stopping while Sansa breathed heavily.

"You're so beautiful," Theon whispered into her ear. "So brave, my sweet girl."

She moaned, and he looked up, seeing her lips parted.

"How does it feel?" he asked, reaching for a hand to the breast Jon wasn't sucking on. "To have him inside you?"

She whined a little bit.

"Good," Sansa whimpered.

"He's here to make you feel good," Theon caressed her stomach. "To give you what you want."

He looked at Jon, as if to tell him to do the same, and Jon moved his lips up, kissing her jawline.

"I'm going to breed you," he thrust into her. "Gonna give you a baby. That's what you want, isn't it, sweet girl?"

Sansa moaned as the nickname rolled off his tongue.

"We'll fill up the north with children," he squeezed her hip. "I'll give you all the babies you want."

She moaned, and Jon felt Theon pushing a hand between them, moving to her cunt.

"Yes," she cried. "Please, breed me. Give me a baby."

Jon growled, and her pussy squeezed his cock tightly.

"I'll breed you over and over again," he pushed into her. "Fill you up with baby after baby."

This was what he should be doing from the start, just plug her up and fill her up, make her fat and round with his pups.

He knew this wouldn't be the only time it happened. Jon would come back, again and again, to make her happy, to give her child after child.

He could regret all of his life choices, but this was how he was going to make up for it. He would give her all the pups she dreamed of having, and would watch them grow up in Winterfell, safe and sound.

"Cum around his cock," Theon kissed her earlobe. "Cum around his cock while he gives you a baby, sweet girl."

Sansa arched her back, moaning, and Jon reached for Theon's hand, pulling it away from her cunt.

"No," she whined. "Please, Theon."

"You're gonna cum from my cock only," he growled, grabbing her hips and pounding into her. "You wanted it so badly, you're going to have to be satisfied with it only."

She looked up at him and their eyes met, and he looked for signs that he could be pushing her past her limits but found only desire staring back at him, with a glint of worry.

"Don't overthink it," Theon commanded by her side. "Let him fuck you. Let him breed you."

Jon adjusted himself before moving faster in her, smiling when she arched her body in his direction, crying out from pleasure.

"I better fuck you harder, then," he decided. "Until you can't think."

Sansa whined.

"Please," she moaned.

"Gonna make you sloppy and dumb, sweet girl," he promised. "Make your beautiful smart mind just drip from your pretty cunt."

Theon chuckled, whistling.

"Finally talking like a man, Snow," he reached for her chest, massaging her breasts and just teasing her around her nipple.

Jon hugged, just smirking.

"I learnt from the worst, Greyjoy," he grunted, lifting Sansa's legs higher.

Sansa cried out, eyelids falling closed as her body trembled under him, arching herself for both the men touching her.

"Everything for our little sweet slut," he teased, watching Sansa's face.

She opened her eyes wide, turning right to Theon and ready to say something when Jon seemingly hit the perfect spot inside her, and her words died into a feral moan while her cunt squeezed him, tight as it spasmed around his cock.

She cried out wordlessly as she came.

It was the hottests thing Jon had ever seen. He had heard of whores faking such a reaction, but Sansa was showing him the purest and most genuine pleasure.

Theon reached between her legs right away, playing with her clit and causing her eyes to roll back, and her cunt continued to squeeze Jon as she continued to cum.

He didn't last more than a few more thrusts, and let his head fall forward as he came, filling her cunt with a grunt while she quivered under him.

He pulled out from inside her after a long moment, and Sansa was quick to tilt her hips up, and Theon put a pillow under her ass, kissing her cheeks while she took in deep breaths.

Jon watched them with hesitant eyes, a little sad as he walked away, but stopped when Sansa called him.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Back to the crypt."

He had to leave before the sun was up and people started walking around the castle.

"Stay," she asked. "A little bit?"

He hesitated, but couldn't move. How could he say no to her?

"Until you’ve fallen asleep?" he offered.

Sansa nodded, and he walked back to the bed, earning a little smile from Theon, and Sansa pulled him to lie close to her, and Jon cuddled her just as Theon did the same, caressing her hair while she hid her face on his shoulder, holding his hand tightly.

Gods. He shouldn't get used to this.

But, dammit, he wanted to.

. . .

"The Things We Do For Love" was published on my Patreon on May! To read it fully and have early access to everything I post and exclusive access to Patreon-Only stories, subscribe to my page! It's only $2 a month and I ahve many perks to offer.

. . .

Forever Tags: @emoryhemsworth @amythyststorm33 @shaelyn102 @yknott81 @letsdisneythings @maximofftrash @kgbrenner @thefridgeismybestie @magpiegirl80 @mogaruke @shadowhunter7 @musicalcoffeebean @megasimpleplan4ever @deemoriarty @05spn18 @malindacath @kdcollinsauthor @random-fandom-fangirl2112 @widowsfics @frozenhuntress67 @averyrogers83 @notyourtypicalrose @nerdypinupcrystal @giruvega

Game of Thrones tags: @izbelross @ietss

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grey-joys · 1 year

Text

Thanks for the tag, @ship-ambrosia , BUT YOU THINK I HAVE TEN???? TENNNN???? Fine, you get outside of GOT/ASOIAF fics for your troubles.

10 most recent first lines in order from first to last:

1. She let out a gasp, hard iron catching her fall.

Untitled (Theon/Sansa, Sansa and Theon save themselves from Ramsay Snow)

2. Years from now, they will say there was no love lost between us.

Another Letter Never Sent (Theon/Robb or Theon & Robb, Robb writes of Theon’s betrayal)

3. She woke to the sound of steel on steel, the piercing ringing starting her from sleep.

Untitled (Theon/Sansa, A kind-of Anastasia au)

4. He all but crumpled into the seat the moment the door closed, his cheeks still wet as his numb fingers searched in the darkness for the seatbelt.

I Kissed Someone (It Wasn’t You) (Peter Parker/Johnny Storm, Peter goes home drunk after a failed one night stand, nsfw)

5. The first time Matt bruised and bloodied his knuckles, he'd been ten.

Unremarkable but Marked (Peter Parker/Matt Murdock, power change au)

6. His hands shook as he brought the blunt to his lips, focused on the lighter as he tried to get more than sparks.

Scenes from the Cast-Offs (Spider-verse drabbles)

7. Peter woke to the gentle rustle of bed sheets, and he knew he hoped for too much.

Love Can Tell A Million Stories (Peter Parker/Johnny Storm, Falsettos au kind of, some nsfw)

8. "Wait, seriously?"

What We Do in the Dark (Peter Parker/Johnny Storm, smut but heed the warnings, undernegotiated kink, nsfw)

9. He woke to the rustle of sheets and the creaking of his bed, and he wanted to go back to sleep.

Four Tequilas Down (Kaine Parker/Johnny Storm, a string of one night stands, nsfw)

10. "Matt," Peter rasped, moving to sit up.

maybe we were meant to be lonely (Peter Parker/Matt Murdock, soulmate-identifying marks, soulmate’s last words)

You can find my marvel fics on @catchingthieves

If you want to do it yourself, you’ll have to pay the iron price like @selkiewife said.

#tag games #tag game #stupid squid thoughts #asoiaf #game of thrones #sansa stark #queen in the north #theonsa #theon greyjoy #marvel #marvel comics #marvel fanfiction #spideytorch #spideydevil #spider man #why are my messages bolton pink

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axelsagewrites · 11 months

Text

Ramsay Bolton*Catch You

Pairing: Ramsay x F!Reader

Summary: Ramsay gives the reader one last chance to escape before becoming his wife

Requested by @darkrose33

Warnings: Ramsay, swearing, smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, f! receiving oral, humiliation, rough sex, degradation, chase kink 18+

Word count: 1894

A/N: Ramsay is a terrible terrible person who did terrible terrible things that I do not condone...however Iwan Rheon made him so attractive in a strange way so you cannot blame me for writing smut for him

Masterlist Here

“You can run,” his voice bellowed through the forest as your feet crashed across the ground amongst the trees, “But you can’t hide,”

It was a cat and mouse game. Ramsay wanted you but you couldn’t marry a traitor even if secretly you wanted him too. Any other person would be scared when they heard his boots crunching on branches and leaves as he ran through the forest after you. a weird spark lit up in your stomach.

“If you can make it to the other side, you’ll be a free woman,” he said, candlelight illuminating the chamber that had become your cell. He’d never laid a hand on you, but gods did he want to.

“And if I don’t?” you asked.

Ramsay smirked, lightly holding your jaw in his hand despite your grimace, “Once I catch you, you won’t want anyone else,”

Leaves and twigs scrapped your face as you ran through the trees, jumping over logs, and twisting around roots. You could hear him getting closer and your heart pounding in your ears. Another log jumped another corner turned then suddenly you had to stop and catch yourself. A lake the width of two men’s heights stretched across you and freedom.

Not even a direwolf could clear the jump. Perhaps there’d be a narrower crossing point further up but how long did you have before he caught up? Your head spun as you tried to look for an option. You heard his laugh running through the wind. Without any other option you began to attempt to climb the nearest tree.

Your hand gripped the branch and you managed to only get a few feet off the ground when your hand began to slip. Trying to find another spot to grab, the branch holding your foot snapped beneath it, your body moved to cling to the tree, but you began to slip. You yelped when you felt yourself falling or perhaps it was from the hand that suddenly was on your hips.

“Caught you,” Ramsay smirked, not nearly as out of breath as you. His strong hands dug into your hips, “You can let go now,” he said.

There was no point trying to run. Ramsay guided you down the tree, hands still clung into your hips as your back was against him. With your feet now on the ground, Ramsay stepped forward pushing you into the tree and his front into your back. You gasped at the feeling of his hard on pressing into you. “What now?” you asked, refusing to look back.

“Now,” Ramsay said as he leaned his mouth down to your ear, his breath fanning over your skin, “I’m going to fuck your tight little hole right in this fucking forest,”

“Anyone could walk by,” your eyes widened despite the excited shiver that went down your spin.

Ramsay spun you around before pressing your back harshly into the bark, deliberately pressing his cock into you as he trapped you between his arms, “Good,” he said, his lips hoovering over yours, “That way they know what’s mine,”

With that his lips crashed onto yours in a deep and messy kiss. His hands moved to grope your chest over your dress. Ramsay groaned into the kiss when he felt your lips move back. You weren��t even sure why you felt a tingle in your stomach. This was so wrong. But gods did his lips feel good.

You gasped when he bit down harshly on your bottom lip, whimpering slightly as he moved his tongue in. his fingers trailed the edges of your neckline before gripping the fabric and pulling it down. You shivered as the cold forest air ran over your nipples that instantly hardened at the cold. Ramsay moaned when he felt your skin under his touch and grinned when he felt your hardened buds. Soft moans left your own lips as he began to twist them gently at first. Then when he pinched them suddenly you whined as a hollow feeling started in your stomach.

“Look at you already so desperate,” Ramsay’s breath was warm against your face in contrast with the forest chill, “So desperate for me,” there was a glint in his eyes as he stared you down, “You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” Your face flushed and you tried to look away. Ramsay growled as he grabbed your jaw harshly, gripping it tightly in his fingers as he forced you to look him in the eye, “I asked you a question,” he said lowly, “Now answer me,” his fingers dug in deeper.

“Y-yes,” you stuttered out as you looked into his eyes which seemed to darken when you spoke.

“Yes what?” he said as he pressed himself even closer to you, no space left between you and him or the tree that dug into your spine.

You whined lightly at the feeling. Despite everything you wanted nothing more than what he was offering, “I want you to fuck me my lord,” you managed to say just above a whisper.

Ramsay smirked at your whimpering. He dropped your jaw from his grip only to begin hiking up your skirt, “All you had to do was ask,” he said as he dropped down to his knees, gazing up at your cunt, “Look how wet you are,” Ramsay said, letting your skirts fall to cover his body as he positioned himself by your cunt.

You stared off into the forest as his hot breath fanned against your wet pussy. You gasped when you felt his hands grab the flesh of your hips under your dress. His nose nudges against you and a whimper left your throat. “Please,” you whined without knowing if he could even hear you.

Finally, Ramsay gave in, and you were thankful for the tree to stabilise you as he licked up your folds. Ramsay did not pause for even a moment as his tongue began to lap up your juices. You didn’t want to moan. Anyone could come past. But when his tongue ran circles over your clit you couldn’t stop them. You felt hollow when he moved away from your clit but full as his tongue began to dive into you, licking you perfectly. Your hands were gripping bark trying to keep yourself standing as his nose nuzzled into your clit.

A knot was building in your stomach as Ramsay worked his wonders with his tongue. His hands squeezed and your hips, moving back to feel the soft flesh of your ass. His hands groping your body and his tongue licking your juices made the knot tighten. Suddenly you felt your whole-body tensing, your legs locking his head in place. “Fuck,” a long whine ripped from your throat as you felt a wave rush through your body. You couldn’t stop yourself moaning his name as you came around his tongue.

When he reappeared from between your legs his face was slick with your juices and a smirk on his lips, “I think you woke the whole forest with that one darling,” he said as his hand moved to grip your throat, “I think I should punish you for that,”

“Please,” you whimpered but the idea of him punishing you just made you ache for him.

“I think,” he said as one of his hands worked on his trousers, “I should fuck you right up against this tree,” he said as his cock sprung free. Without thinking you looked down at it and stared with awe as he held his cock in his hand, “What do you think?” he asked, turning his eyes back to yours.

You nodded but Ramsay squeezed your throat. You couldn’t just nod. “Please,” you whimpered, “Please do it. make me yours,” your hands moved to hold onto his arms, squeezing his hard biceps, “Fuck me, please I’ll be good,” you begged.

Ramsay’s eyes were filled with lust, “Such a good whore,” he said as he began to pull your skirts back up, lining himself up with your entrance, “That’s what you want right? To be my whore?”

“Yes,” you whined which turned into a gasp when you felt his tip began to push in.

Ramsay groaned as he slowly began to push his cock into you. once the head was in, he paused for a moment, and you felt yourself adjust to the burn as he stretched you out. However, he did not wait long before he suddenly began to thrust into you, his whole length diving into you and filling you up.

At first you gasped, a pain starting at first, but the pain ripped through your body like a wave of pleasure. Ramsay gripped your hips as he thrust into you and admired the tears falling from your eyes. “You look so pretty like this,” he growled sending shivers down your spine.

The pain was now wholly replaced by pleasure as he thrust into you, with each thrust your back hitting into the tree. Curse words fell from your lips in a mix of moans of whimpers. Ramsay groaned and growled as he fucked you, his lips falling onto the skin of your neck to suck dark hickeys into the delicate flesh. His hands moved from your hips to your still exposed chest. A wave of pleasure ran through you as he began to pinch and squeeze your nipples. Your walls clenched around him, cumming again for the second time around him. Your moans filling the forest like a symphony to Ramsay’s ears.

But it did not stop him. If anything, his thrusts got harder when he felt you squeezing around him, “Do it again,” Ramsay said, pressing his forehead against yours. whines of protest came out, but he did not care, “Do it again,” he growled, one of his hands moving to grip your throat as the other pinched hard on your nipple, “I wanna watch you cum over and over and over,” he said, thrusting with each word.

Even if you wanted to protest you couldn’t as the pressure built again. He let go of your throat if only to shove his fingers in your mouth, swirling them around your tongue before moving them to rub sloppy circles onto your clit. Your moans got muffled when he slammed his mouth onto yours. the way your moans vibrated into the kiss made his cock start to twitch.

When he felt your walls clamp around him again, he almost spilled right then. He pulled back from the kiss to watch your face contort in pleasure, the orgasm ripping through your body like a tsunami crashing. His thrusts got sloppy as he tried to ride it out but when you moaned his name, he couldn’t stop himself. Ramsay grunted as his seed began to spill, leaning onto the tree behind you to steady himself as he drained himself into you. his lips hovered over yours as he came, and you closed the gap for a needy light kiss.

When he pulled back, removing his cock from you, he used his hands to keep you steady. It was like trying to stand on ice for the first time as your legs ached from the orgasms. “You caught me,” you said, panting as you recovered from the ordeal.

Ramsay grinned down at you as he caught his own breath, “And don’t think im ever gonna let you run again,”

Taglist: @clairacassidy @nyotamalfoy

#ramsay bolton smut #ramsay bolton #ramsay bolton imagine #ramsay bolton x reader #ramsay snow #ramsay now smut #game of thrones smut #game of thrones show #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #iwan rheon #iwan rheon smut #requested #asoiaf #asoiaf smut

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ramsayxme · 2 months

Text

You've Been Watching Me.

You dried your dripping hands across the front of your horribly filthy skirt. Back home, you wouldn't even allow your lowest servant to wear such a filthy piece of clothing. Everything was different now, you sighed as you finished washing the last dish. You could still hear the loud laughter trickling in from the dining hall while you emptied the washing bucket down the drain. You didn't have servants anymore; you were the servant.

You didn't remember much about when Ramsay Bolton captured you, but you did remember you lost everything. You used to have your own warm bed to sleep in with layers and layers of carefully hand woven blankets draped all across, each with a beautiful design. You used to love to run your hand along the intricate designs that were woven with such grace, skill, and care...Now you fiddle with the loose twine that holds your skirt from falling down to your ankles. Not quite as beautiful.

You can't even begin to imagine what you look like now. Your long brown hair felt wiry and stringy but greasy and oily at the same time. Your eyes felt sunken from lack of sleep. You felt bony and scrawny, unable to remember the last time you felt the sensation of fullness in your belly. You sighed as you exited the kitchen chamber and into the hallway. There was one good bit about being captured, though. Your captor was a handsome monster.

Of course, you knew how horrible, vicious, and vile this man was. After all, you had witnessed it first hand a few times so far. Regrettably, there was something about him that peaked your interest. There was a slight sexiness to the way he asserted dominance and power, as if he had no fears in the whole world. You had studied Ramsay's face many times while he was asserting his power, and you had always noticed the way he lit up. It was obviously arousing for him to watch people squirm until they give in to him.

Last week, you had watched in the shadows while he tortured and mutilated the man who was formerly known as Theon Greyjoy, now just a broken pet named Reek. You felt yourself heat up just by watching him abuse his power and ever since then, you had fantasized about him using that power on you. You were obviously ashamed of this, but you knew it was just a fantasy and nothing more.

You finally reached your bed chambers, your bare feet chilled from the cold stone of the castle. You walked over to your small fire that was still glowing, and you climbed on your unstable 'bed' right in front of the stone fireplace. It was made with a plank resting on uneven stones and covered with a few pelts. It was wildly uncomfortable. Your room was tiny, but you weren't in it much. You were either doing your chores or sneaking around, trying to catch glimpses of Ramsay throughout the day. You liked watching him.

You were so unimportant to him that he never noticed you. You could just pretend to be sweeping the floor while he ate dinner, cleaning the linens while he screamed at another servant, or just simply laying low in the shadows like you did the other day. You felt your adrenaline rush when you watched him. You couldn't help yourself!

You began warming your ice cold toes by the fire, reaching down and rubbing them slightly. You were lost in your thoughts when you heard your door slam. As you jumped to turn around, you saw one of the other servants standing at your door. It was a scraggly looking boy, you guessed not much older than 15. "Oh. You scared me." You said, turning back towards the fire. The boy still stood at your door. "What is it?"

He looked down at the floor. "Ramsay has requested you." You felt your heart race in secret. "What? Why? I haven't done anything wrong." You had not yet turned back to the boy. "I don't know." He muttered, "He asked for you. Let's go, before he gets angry at me." The boy had just planted an idea in your head. Poor boy.

"I don't believe you." You smirked, still facing the fire. "Come on!" He begged, a little louder and much more desperate this time. "You know he doesn't like to be kept waiting, please..." You sighed and stood up to face the boy. "What do you imagine he wants from me?" You pretended to be too scared to go with him. The boy quickly shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, but we can find out. Please. Hurry." He was truly terrified. You felt excitement bubble up in you. "Fine." You finally agreed.

The boy led you down the hallway to one of the side chambers. It was similar to the dining hall but a little smaller. He pushed the door, causing a loud squeaking noise to fill the air. You stepped inside and saw Ramsay sitting at the table. He was alone. You felt a shiver slither up your spine, but it wasn't fear. You tried to look scared.

"That took... longer than I wanted." Ramsay said softly, his eyes staring into the young boy. You heard the boy shift his weight, obviously uncomfortable. "I'm sorry. She... she didn't want to come right away, she moved slowly." He whispered, his eyes glancing at your feet on the floor. You shook your head, determined to make Ramsay angry at the boy. You felt guilty, but you wanted to watch him get mad. "Not true, Ramsay. He got lost on the way. I tried to tell him to take a left after the dining hall, but he didn't listen to me."

The boy's jaw hung slack as he stared at you, realizing what you were doing. "I see." Ramsay said, his eyes still stuck on the boy. You watched Ramsay inhale deeply as he pulled his shoulders back. He was wearing a front buttoned vest with a wool long sleeve underneath it. His curly dark hair swooped over his eyebrows and his piercing blue eyes shifted around underneath. His jaw was strong as he grit his teeth. He exhaled his breath with the words "Come here", directed to the boy. He sulked over, slouching wit defeat as he approached Ramsay.

Ramsay reached out and grabbed a handful of the boy's horribly messy hair. He yanked him down to his face and whispered something into the boys ear. You couldn't hear what he said, but you felt yourself get excited watching Ramsay be so powerful. The boy shuddered as Ramsay let go of his hair, a smile breaking across his face. "Run along now!" Ramsay yelled, sending the boy running out the door. He swung it shut as he left, causing it to slam loudly.

Now, it was just you and Ramsay...alone.

"Yes, Ramsay, what did you need from me?" You ask, breaking the silence in the room. Ramsay smiles, his lips slowly unveiling his sharp incisors as he grins wider. "Have you enjoyed it?" He asked, his voice deep and quiet. You felt a wave of anxiety flow across your torso. "Enjoy what?" You asked. He did not answer you. He simply lifted his hand and gave a 'come here' motion. His eyes were peering at you from behind his curls. You swallowed a small bubble of nerves as you stepped closer to him.

He did not seem satisfied until you were at the other edge of the table, directly across from him. He looked up at you, his shoulders square and his breathing steady. You stared in silence for a moment before he began chuckling. "You do enjoy it!" He laughed. You still weren't sure what he was saying but before you could ask, he answered for you. "You've been watching me."

You opened your mouth to argue, but Ramsay kept going. "You think you're sneaky, but you're not, no you are far from it! Do you really think I don't know everything that happens around here?" He swirled his finger around in the air, indicating the whole castle. "I noticed you watching me the first time you did it. I saw you in the corners when I was..." his eyes rolled around as he was trying to find the right words. "...playing with Reek."

Again, you opened your mouth to speak. "You like it, don't you?" Ramsay asks more firmly this time. All you can do is slowly nod your head. He knows. He has known this whole time. "What exactly do you enjoy about it? Do you like hearing the screams of pain too? Or is it something else?" He asks you. His eyes are very intense. He is staring directly at your face and you feel your cheeks flush. "I...." "Speak up, dear. I can't hear you." He grinned.

"I like watching you... I don't really know what it is, but I like watching you be powerful." Ramsay snickers at this. "It is not the torture alone that you enjoy, but its watching me torture others? You like my power?" He asked you although his voice oozed with confidence that he already knew the right answer. You hesitated to answer, and with a ~shing~ you heard Ramsay unsheathe one of his knives from his belt, twirling it in his hand, and then pointing it at you. "Answer me." He demanded, his eyebrows raised.

Oh, Gods. You swallowed another bubble, but again, it wasn't fear. You felt a breathy whimper slowly escape your lips as you sighed. "Yes." His eyes seemed to light up to your response, and perhaps also the moan that crept out. "Wonderful." He said, still pointing the knife at you. "Come here." He demanded. You swiftly walked around the table and stood facing him at his side. Your breathing was quick, you were so close to touching him.

He stood up quickly, pushing the chair out from under him with a loud scrape on the floor. He turned to you, making direct and intense eye contact immediately. You felt your breath hitch in your throat. He slowly brought the knife up to your neck and pressed the tip of the blade against your throat. "Now," He began, his voice low and breathy, his face only inches from yours. "I want you to do something for me to show me how much you enjoy watching me. Can you do that for me?"

You gently nodded your head, staring into his hungry eyes. He pressed the knife against you harder, the edge of it barely nicking your jaw. "Use your words." He groaned through gritted teeth. "Yes... yes, I can do it..." You didn't recognize your own voice. It sounded smoother and thicker than usual. Ramsay dropped the blade on the table. "Are you going to do anything I say?" He asked, almost cooing at you. His lips were close enough to your face that if you barely leaned forward, you would be kissing him. You felt the warmth of his breath on your own lips.

"Yes, I will do anything you-" Before you can finish your sentence, his hand wraps around your throat tightly. You feel your airway cut off and watch his eyes widen as he chokes you. You reach your hands up and place them on the hand around your throat out of instinct. His eyes dart across your face, almost as if he is examining every tiny movement you make. You notice his breathing is steady and controlled even though his eyes are wild and his teeth are barred. He lets his grip loosen a bit, but doesn't completely let go. You want him.

You lean forward slightly, in hopes to kiss him. He doesn't allow you, his grip tightens when you lean. "What do you think you're doing?" He chuckles at your pathetic attempt of romance. "Are we making love now? No, I don’t believe we are." Ramsay just laughs at you as he releases your throat and sits back down in the chair. "Get under the table." He demands. You do not hesitate this time.

You crouch under the table and sit on your shins, the stone is hard on your knees but you can't seem to be bothered. Ramsay scoots his chair back so he can peer down at you, and you stare up at him. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat and your stomach. You watch him intently as his hands dip to his trousers and he unlaces his waistband, his gaze never leaving your face. You watch as he pulls on his trousers, releasing his erection for you. You sharply inhale, watching him do this is something you thought was only possible in your dark fantasies. He snickers as he pulls himself out of his pants completely, and interlaces his fingers before resting his hands on the table in front of him. He stares down at you with a dominant glare and you feel yourself melt slightly.

You sit eagerly on the floor, watching him as he raises his eyebrows at you. “Well? You enjoy watching me, now let me enjoy watching you.” You feel your stomach flip in your body with excitement. You scoot forward on your shins and place your head on his knee. You stare up at him and manage to whisper “I’ve been fantasizing about this for days.” He gives you a closed lip smile and nods. “I know. I can tell. Now, go on…” You take a deep breath in and stare at his erection. You can’t believe this is about to happen. You want to pleasure him more than you’ve ever wanted to do anything in your life. You reach your hands up and wrap one of your hands around the base of his shaft as you place your lips on the warm tip of his cock.

Slowly, you began kissing the head. You swirl your tongue gently as you allow your eyes to flutter shut. His head is soft and smooth, your tongue gliding across him with ease. You kiss deeper, allowing his entire tip in your mouth. You sense Ramsay take a deep breath, making your core heat up. You’re really pleasuring this powerful man. You feel so special and invincible. Your confidence seeps out of your body through your actions as you open your mouth wider and take in more of him. You were moving slow but with intention. You felt his cock in the back of your throat and you began bobbing up and down, methodically and determined. Ramsay sighed again, his hands must have left their spot at the table because one of his hands wrapped around your hair at the back of your neck. You felt the slight pressure on the back of your head as he placed his hand there, softly pushing your head down to ease his cock snugly in your mouth.

You continued to pleasure him, now allowing his cock to fully enter your throat. You started losing control as he began taking control, you knew this was bound to happen. You knew that Ramsay wouldn't actually give you full control. You felt him wrap your hair around his fist once, and then grip on it tightly. He pushed and pulled your head, using your mouth at whatever speed pleased him. It was uncomfortable for you, but you were more focused on the grunts and breathy sighs coming from his throat.

Without warning, he shoved his chair back and stood up; leaving you alone under the table with your dripping chin. "Get up." He growled, his grin proving that his demand was enticing. You stumbled to your feet and stood, your ass against the edge of the table. Ramsay smiled at you for a moment before diving his face into the crook of your neck. He yanked the fabric of your shirt down your shoulder, allowing the soft skin to be exposed to him. You sucked in a breath as he began kissing your neck eagerly with bites in between kisses. You felt yourself groan when he bit down a bit harder, which made him reach to your waist and squeeze your hips.

His hands snaked from your hips to behind your thighs as he lifted you, setting you down on the table. You frantically began pulling your skirt up, bunching it around your torso. Ramsay chuckled at this. "You're an eager one." He whispered into your ear before biting down on the flesh directly below your earlobe. A whimper escaped your lips. You realized your arms were desperately tugging at Ramsay's sleeves and the front of his vest. Gods, you were not very good at hiding your lust for him. He stepped back one step before yanking his vest open and tearing it off. Then, he pulled the wool long sleeve over his head. You gawked at the sight, his pale and toned frame heaving as he stared at you with a predatory glare.

He stepped forward again, pressing himself against your core. Your skirt was still bunched around your sides, fully exposing yourself. Ramsay's cock nudged at your entrance as he allowed his trousers to fall from his thighs to his ankles. You reached out in an attempt to allow your fingers to graze over his pale skin, but he stopped you with his own hands. He grabbed your wrists and tucked them at your sides. "Lay down. Hands under your lower back." You obeyed, slowly leaning backwards and tucking your arms underneath the small of your back. "Good." He quietly praised you.

He grabbed the same knife from the edge of the table and wielded it in his hand. He leaned forward, pressing it against your neck, the cold blade sending shivers down your body. He slid the knife under the neckline of your shirt and easily sliced through the filthy fabric, exposing your breast to him. He pulled the shirt open like a cloak and began kneading at your chest while he nudged at your entrance, his cock pressing against your needy core. The knife returned to your throat as he lined himself up with your cunt. His free hand still groping your body, squeezing and pulling at your soft flesh. He leaned forward, pressing his length inside you easily. You were clearly very aroused, as your body was slick and easy to enter.

You whined as he stretched you. He enjoyed your whimpers. He clenched his jaw as he began pumping in and out, not allowing your body to adjust. You cried out with a combination of pain and pleasure, and Ramsay simply growled in return. He continued to press the knife against your throat, the blade threatening to slice through your skin at any moment. He did not break eye contact while he began fucking you. His icy eyes bore deep into your own, causing your stomach to flutter with arousal. This was unlike anything you had ever experienced. Seeing Ramsay abuse his power was one thing, but watching him to do it to you? Incredible.

You felt yourself growing warm, your body fully adjusting to him and beginning to float with pure bliss. You must've gave your enjoyment away on your face, because Ramsay pulled his cock from you. You whimpered as you felt empty, and your eyes snapped open to see him take a step backwards. "Get up." He demanded. You brought yourself off the table and realized how sore your arms and shoulders were. You stood in front of Ramsay, your skirt falling back to its original length.

"I can't have you enjoying this too much." He cooed, shaking his head with disappointment. He brought the knife back to your throat. You swallowed as you watched his eyes scan over your face. His other hand grabbed your hands and he brought them to his wet cock, still hard. "Please me." He demanded as he grabbed the nape of your neck once again. "Yes, Ramsay." You obeyed. You began stroking his cock while he leaned into you. You were using your hands to please him while he kept the knife pressed against you and had your hair wrapped around his other hand. He turned your head to the side, giving him access to your neck and ear. He breathed against your ear, causing goosebumps to rip across your skin.

He kissed your earlobe as the knife pressed against your jawline. You were steadily and rhythmically using your hands to jerk him off. Your mind blurred as you pleased him. Your brain drowned in the sounds of his shaky breaths and moans between the kisses on your neck. You knew he was growing close to orgasm, the grip on your hair was extremely tight and the knife was pressed against your jaw firmly. You were afraid he would slice your throat without knowing.

His hips began thrusting forward, his body begging for more pleasure. He lurched a few times before his thighs tightened and the knife actually dug into your jawline. He came, releasing a groan from deep within his belly as he did. You were gasping for air just as much as he was, you hadn't realized you had been holding your breath. He came down from his climax and finally released your hair. He noticed the nick on your jawline from his knife and he chuckled. "I got a bit carried away, didn't I?" He reached out to your chin and pulled it towards him, allowing you to face him once more. He pressed his lips against yours, kissing your mouth for the first time. You felt your heart flutter. The kiss was too short. He pulled away and bent over to pull his trousers up.

"Go wash your wound. I may need you again later tonight." He grinned as he turned to walk away, leaving you a panting mess. You were desperate for your own release, feeling the sexual tension built up in your own body. You watched Ramsay disappear in the hallway and you looked down at yourself. Your open shirt hanging off your elbows. Your dress even dirtier than it was before, but this time you didn't really seem to mind as much.

#game of thrones #ramsay bolton #ramsay snow #ramsay bolton x reader #ramsaybolton #ramsayboltonsmut #got #ramsey bolton #smut #ramsey snow #forceful

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ao3feed-tywin · 2 years

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Stray

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/HCNbG0M

by Hippychick90

"When the testimonies are concluded and the guilty verdict is rendered, Tyrion will be given the chance to speak. He'll plead for mercy and they'll allow him to join the nights watch. In a few days time, he'll depart for castle black and live out his days on the wall. You'll remove your white cloak immediately and you will leave King's Landing to assume your rightful place at Casterly Rock. You will marry Sansa Stark and father children named Lannister and you'll never turn your back on your family again."

Jaime's jaw clenched, finally feeling the defeat he so dreaded. He nodded, eyes never leaving his father's."You have my word.

"And you have mine."

Words: 1611, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Game of Thrones (TV)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage

Categories: F/M

Characters: Jaime Lannister, Sansa Stark, Tyrion Lannister, Cersei Lannister, Tywin Lannister, Jon Snow, Arya Stark, Sandor Clegane, Brienne of Tarth, Tytos Brax, Joffrey Baratheon, Myrcella Baratheon, Tommen Baratheon, Margaery Tyrell, Ramsay Bolton, Theon Greyjoy, Bran Stark, Rickon Stark, Kevan Lannister, Dorna Swyft, Genna Lannister, Shae (A Song of Ice and Fire)

Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Sansa Stark

Additional Tags: Game of Thrones Fix-It, Past Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Past Joffrey Baratheon/Sansa Stark, BAMF Tywin Lannister, Married Jaime Lannister/Sansa Stark, Arranged Marriage, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Protective Sandor Clegane, Protective Jaime Lannister, Sarcasm, Conspiracy, BAMF Sansa Stark, Forced Pregnancy, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Smut, Heavy Angst, Tragedy, Out of Character Tywin Lannister, but only slightly - Freeform, especially when it comes to his children, Slightly Underage

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/HCNbG0M

#ao3feed #fanfic #ao3feed tywin #ao3feed tywin lannister

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and-claudia · 2 years

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And-Claudia’s Rules for Requesting

Please read this post before sending in a request 🖤

Characters I write for:

*Characters marked with a 🔴 Means that I only do head cannons for that character

*if there is nothing beside the character that means that I can do either HCs or one shots for them

Star Wars:

The Mandalorian

Fives

Crosshair

Tech

Hunter 🔴

Wrecker 🔴

Echo (both before and post citadel, please specify) 🔴

Kylo Ren

Poe Dameron

Darth Maul

Obi-Wan 🔴

Anakin 🔴

Harry Potter:

George Weasley

Draco 🔴

Marvel:

Bucky Barnes

Steve Rogers

Druig

Eddie Brock and Venom

Zemo 🔴

Steven Grant

Marc Spector

Streamers:

Corpse Husband

Game of Thrones:

Oberyn

Theon

Jon Snow

Ramsay Bolton

Tyrion Lannister 🔴

Tormund 🔴

The Witcher: (I’ve only seen season one)

Geralt

Jaskier 🔴

Top Gun:

Rooster

Stranger Things:

Hopper

Steve

Jonathan 🔴

Billy

Eddie

Nancy 🔴

Robin 🔴

Poly Relationship pairings I will write:

Venom x Reader x Eddie

Steven x Reader x Marc

Steve x Reader x Eddie

Steve x Reader x Eddie x Billy 🔴

FAQs

What do I take requests for?

-Headcanons

-One shots/imagines

-all will be done in either a 3rd person style if the reader is not included in the story or in x reader style

What I will write:

-fluff

-angst

-general

-female reader

-gender natural reader

What will I NOT write?

-romantic relationships in which it’s character x reader x character, only exceptions are the he ones I have listed under “Poly Relationship Pairings”. I just struggle with these sometimes because the characters don’t mesh well in my writing style so I try to keep it to ones I know I can do well.

-Male reader, I never want to put out anything that is less than my best or that I am unhappy with and knowing that I struggle to write from a males perspective I unfortunately do not accept request for this

-smut, I am very new to writing smut, it is something I am growing on and I really have to be in the right headspace to write it

- heavy topics. A lot of my writing does include heavier topics, that being said I chose to write about them and I was always in the headspace to write them. These topics include things like death of family, sexual violence and harassment, self harm etc. a good rule of thumb is that if you think it may be a heavy topic probably do not request it, but you are always welcome to ask to make sure

- Multiple part requests, I do not take requests for multiple part works. This means that you cannot ask for your request to be multiple parts. However if I choose to I may do a second part to one shots.

What should you do when requesting?

-Please include if you’re wanting a head cannon or a short one shot about it

(A one shot will be written more like a Cohesive storyline, a head cannon will be more like bullet points and my thoughts on the topic chosen)

-Please be descriptive in what you are wanting,

For example:

“Anakin and comforting the reader”

Is very vague and can be difficult to fulfill because I want to make sure I am giving you what you want. So:

“Anakin comforting the reader after she’s had a nightmare about to Jedi trials”

Is much easier to fulfill

-if you are requesting anonymously and you want to help me out a little bit please consider using an emoji to mark your requests. It’ll just help me when writing I can put who it’s for by using your emoji

(I will list the emojis that have been claimed here)

If you have any questions please feel free to dm me either at @and-claudia or on my secondary account @and-claudias-world 🖤🖤

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ao3feed-briennejaime · 1 year

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A Dance with Death

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/MoxSajT

by professional_dumbass

Sansa Stark runs north to Jon Snow, seeking the protection of the man she believes to be her brother. After having suffered through so many hardships, she begins to finally learn how to trust again, to let herself feel again. Confusing and no doubt shameful feelings begin to stir in her when she realizes, that Jon is not just a brother to her. Even more so when she finds out he is no brother of hers at all. Jealousy, death and betrayal come to the North, alongside the Dragon Queen. Will the two make it out alive? And if they do, will they do so together?

Yes so basically its just what the summary says. I really love Jon and Sansa together and I think they had MUCH more chemistry than Jon and Dany, so yeah that's that. And I think Sansa would have found it hard to trust any other man except a selected few after Joffrey and Ramsay, so thats the other point.

Words: 4135, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Game of Thrones (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Characters: Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Brienne of Tarth, Daenerys Targaryen, Tyrion Lannister, Jaime Lannister, Cersei Lannister, Arya Stark, Tormund Giantsbane

Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Gendry/Arya Stark, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth

Additional Tags: Sansa Stark-centric, Sansa Stark Deserves Better, Jealous Jon Snow, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Jon Snow is Not Called Aegon, Aegon is a stupid name, Dany is the villain, obviously, Slow Burn, Extremely Slow Burn, you will die waiting, smut?, yes probably

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/MoxSajT

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #jaime x brienne #braime

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rise-my-angel · 1 month

Text

Heart of the Great Wolf

43 - Waving Tides of Turmoil

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

Length: 14.6k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, slight canon lore divergence, animal death, past character death, religious discussion, non explicit mention of past rape/sexual assault, light smut, oral (f receiving)

Notes: The lore change is slight addition to an object from a book specific plot point, in order to write around a certain talking door that I really did not want to adapt. But it shouldn't change the overall lore of the story. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

There was a specific memory Jon was unable to ever get out of his mind. But he knew it was odd it was the one it was. In his bed at Castle Black, he had woken up far earlier in the morning then he wanted to be, but he had much to do and too little time to get it prepared. But when his eyes fluttered open, it was that sight he felt his heart flip at.

Pulled tight back into his arms, you were fast asleep. He never had this. Not the way that morning was, you were a beautiful sight for him in a way no one else could possible understand. The only peace Jon had and would see on you for months as he leaned up more. Pulling your hair out of his path, but he was hesitant to do what felt so natural. Press his lips down to your cheek, neck, whatever he could reach but he wouldn't do it.

Things then were unsure, and you were trapped within the horrific fear of memory so soon escaped which Jon still did not truly know about. You had lied to him about how bad it was, Theon had lied, later Maester Wolkan would lie. They all lied to him about what Ramsay really did to you at his worst, and he recalled that first morning waking up with you in this arms he despised that he would be leaving you to awake thinking he abandoned you.

It took months to coax you into a state that wasn't always terrified, and even now he saw the cracks of it appear behind your dedication to seeming as if you were beyond that struggle anymore. But he knew that pair of pale blue eyes haunted you, and the longer you were here at the Nightfort the more Jon was starting to think perhaps you were forgetting how well you had been doing.

Reminded of that horror, but that morning as Jon awoke, did he no longer hesitate to lean over and press his lips to your neck. Drifting a hand to your side, and prompting your sleeping self to turn into him so he could kiss you properly. You wouldn't even respond, you were still asleep, but it took Jon a good while to pull from your lips and kiss your forehead. Both of you bare, Jon so desperately wanted to pry your legs open. Slide gently inside of you and lull you awake that way. Start your morning by filling you deep or perhaps he'd attach his mouth between you and drink every perfect taste you could gift to his tongue. You'd awake so shy about it he knew. He adored it as much as it drove him mad.

Jon knew he needed to ensure you stayed with him. Be with you gentle and tender, to not allow you to fall back into such horrors in memory. But as your brows narrowed at the sound of a knock at the door, Jon pulled you firmly into his torso and covered with the fur, what of your bare frame he had let slide down as you slowly woke up to the sounds around. Knowing he needed to get you both dressed, Jon sighed. He had one single night with you, and back into the never ending fray of mystery and death which haunted every facet of your lives now.

At this rate to Jon, it felt like he never would have a life with you where he'd get you all to himself even just for a little while. Even though he knew you both desperately needed it, he never could or would force it. No matter how much Jon wanted to force everyone from his life with you, even just for a few days.

Just enough to stop feeling so on edge, for both of you. But it felt impossible to Jon presently.

Every other abandoned castle along the Wall had their tunnels plugged with rocks and ice to flood, yet the gate rose up without any force, it opened as easy as the free one of Castle Black did. Only you all knew it was not the normal outer gate which would be found at the opposite side. The wind blew high and cold as the gate slowly begun to rise up. It was far more well preserved and functioning then you would have expected for how long it had been abandoned.

Commenting to Sam that it seemed strange, he had said, “That isn't the strangest thing about it.”

There up above on the ceiling seemed to be something like a passage way, if glancing through, you could see the structure of what looked like a well, as if what was down here sat in disguise from the remainder of the buildings. Empty now, but Sam had said it was in there which he and Gilly had come through and met Bran. Yet it was how he came to the gate in the first place which was the intrigue. How he got inside.

The tunnel unlike the one of Castle Black appeared to glow by the end. Where in one was only darkness other then torch fire hung from the walls, there was a glow of white by the end as if something had been painted there using the stars bright in the sky. Nor was it made of steel either. No, it was made of wood and it was as if the bark on it was not white paint at all, it was the base of the white branches routing through the fort.

One just like you had known in Winterfell, on the white bark, was a face.

Dark and almost black with a wide open mouth as all others, only this was taller then any and all of you. Not the gate alone, the face was carved to fit the whole thing. The glow seemed to touch hardly anything outside of the gate itself but it illuminated the vision of all four of you as you all slowly came to a stop.

All were quiet as you looked at it, unlike anything seen at the Wall before it appeared to be as old as the ice it was guarding in between. Something sat in the air here as the roots wound about the room as if at any moment they could come to life and wrap themselves around you in attack. Hardly even wind blew anymore, and no torches were even around to hang. Only the milky moonlight radiating from the face before.

But it was not a face alone you could see, no it was what led you all to such a clue in the first place. A faint carve in the wood all around the sides were runes just as you knew them. Some were ones Sam had transcribed, others were but a mystery you had yet to lay eyes on but scouring all along the frame you sought out one as Jon did the other.

Rasping out beside you, Jons attention drew all eyes up to the left corner. “There, that's the one we saw at the Fist of the First Men.” Spirals drawing outward from what looked to be one small circle in the middle, it certainly didn't look quite as uniform as what you could recognize of the rest.

Tormund muttering from the other side of Jon, none of you tearing your eyes from the gate. “Wouldn't be surprised if there's more here we haven't seen. Between Mance and me, saw more of them the more years went by.”

Sam stood beside you at the end, the only one who wasn't as in a strange awe being used to this sight from before, but no less curious of it. “How far back did you first see something like that?”

Thinking in a quiet, a distant rumble sat vibrating within Tormunds chest as if it blended well with the out of sorts cold which permeated so close to his once home. “Heard stories as a boy, but it wasn't until damn near thirty years ago did anyone actually see something. Came across a pair of spear wives, going on about how their men came back from a hunt and tried to kill them. Had to kill 'em twice, since they got back up the first time. Was no older then that sister of yours,” Tormund glancing over to Jon, whose eyes had barley peeled from the symbol to the face in the gate. “The lad who said he had to burn his hut down just to stop some stranger walking in from coming after him. Lived near the very edge of Thenn territory, so we went over to cut them to pieces for it, but we got there and they were already cut up into plenty of naked pieces all over the ground. That one there's what we saw.”

Pointing up to another by the lower right leading towards the ground, a symbol you hadn't recognized sat there just on the cusp of standing out as unusual. An opening sat near the middle bottom of what should be a circle, but designed that like of a maze. A thick loop closing off each end right at said middle, and inside it another smaller copy and a smaller copy inside the next until there was no more space for such.

Your own eyes found it near the edge of the corner by you, just as you could see it fresh in the snow it sat carved beyond on the wood of the gate. A circle interrupted what almost a hilt of a sword down the middle, and four dots around it's edges which you could feel a shiver in your bones thinking of. In that sight, such dots were heads bloodied and skewered onto spikes. Whoever you were looking through the eyes of in such a vision, you could still feel the creeping feeling of confusion when bringing his companions back to a sight of nothing.

How he had turned around, and up against a tree all on her own as if a warning sat a little girl with bright orange curls. Her eyes remained wide open but without fear as if she had died before grasping the terror of what was to come, and how those same eyes turned around to look at you in a bright glowing blue just as you heard screams.

Feeling Jons warmth lean more to you, his voice low as he asked you, “Is that the one you saw?” Not even blinking, you nodded slow only once as he leaned over your sight more to Sam. “And you're sure these match?”

Stepping closer, Sam looked between them and the face on the gate. There wasn't anything else like this in the other forts along the Wall from what you were told. It was here, just here. Sam however answered with another question, “Did you notice something? About these symbols?”

Quiet in thought for only a moment, Jons brows furrowed as the rest of him twisted in a fallen frown to pull the horn from where it sat safely on his person. All of you turning to him, he turned it all around slowly as his gloved fingertips traced against the marks. Looking at some, then others, then the horn once more before his grey eyes shined wide looking up in a wonder. “Not all of them are on here.”

Sam only adding, “Maybe they took out some of them when they made this.”

Only a whisper but in the eeiry silence the three men heard regardless. “Or they etched them into the horn first, and added more later.” Eyes flickering up to Jon, you weren't entirely sure but any suggestions were better then only one with such things now. “If the Wall came first, why would they leave out some things and not the other.”

More gears were turning in his mind then you could keep up with, not wanting to imagine just how much of every waking moment was spent trying to put this into any understanding for him. Nothing short of an oddity that Jon didn't look as exhausted as you did these past weeks, knowing he was getting less sleep then he was being honest about. “What if they're trying to speak to us?” Eyes narrowing as you asked what he means, but Jon was distant in his thoughts. “Three symbols on the horn and gate that they left behind for us to see. They're using what used to be our language out there, it might mean they think we can understand.”

The air was heavy until someone found the strength to speak up, “Wouldn't that mean they don't know we can't anymore?” Jon's head turned down to the side to meet your eyes, and the answer sat right in his gaze, both in it's uncertainty and somehow unwavering confidence.

Calling Sam's name, Jon found his command once more, gesturing to the symbols new to their understanding now. “I need you to figure out what these say. Can you do it by tonight?” Sam replied saying he would try, did you and Tormund find yourselves walking up to the carved face.

It was high in the air. Taller then any gate needed for any man, but most of them were. The question of why sat unspoken in your mouth. Rumbling as he leaned toward you, “Why call it the Black Gate if it's as white as a Weirwood?”

Almost on instinct, your gloved hand reached up as it to brush against the carved face as you would smaller ones but pulled back the last moment,. Fingers curling into your fist, as your lips sat slightly parted trying to strain your neck looking at it's enormity. Standing on your toes would you'd still never would even be able to reach up to Tormunds height, “Stories used to say when the cold winds came and white walkers rose up, a never ending darkness flooded the lands with them.”

“Winter north of the Wall's always dark.”

Looking at the Black Gate with carved and made with that of a white Weirwood, you could somehow see through it as if a form of night you never would have once comprehended lay behind it. “Not this kind of dark.” Tormund's brows narrowed in question at you but you had no answer or look back to him. You continued to look a the face with it's closed eyes and open mouth as if ready to speak. But nothing is ever that simple.

An approaching warmth came up to your left and a hand running up your spine with enough pressure you could feel Jon even through his gloves, and the layers and fur over you. Tormund asking to break the quiet first, “Now how do you open a gate with no way to raise it?”

Jons hand curled just the slightest into the white fur around your shoulders as if to subtly pull you just a bit closer to him, and the slightest bit more away from Tormund. “Sam said it opened on it's own after he recited the Night's Watch oath.” Both men looked at one another with you in the middle feeling lost amongst the white and a dizzying feeling the longer you stood so close to it.

“Horn that can bring the Wall down, runes that match a door with face on it that only opens to you crows and your oaths and no one knows why? What's the point of manning the Wall if no one understands what they're doing?” There wasn't a tone of condescension on Tormund's tone but you couldn't help but feel the answer was somehow staring you in the face. But it wasn't. Only the carved one in the gate.

Jon inhaled deeply, jaw set a little harder at the thought. Lord Commander turned King in the North and you knew it wasn't easy feeling as if he had so little information to lead from. “The Nights Watch has manned the wall for eight thousand years, we've barley been able to get eight hundred men between three castles in centuries.” Once more the hand curling around the fur on you tightened. “The less resources you give people to do their job, the less likely they'll be to ask why they should care about doing it.”

Or maybe you thought, they were hiding the secrets they wanted to protect from those they didn't trust. You couldn't say why you thought of it, but the black gate sent you into your memory of charred black bones and the creature roaring into the open air to cause them. Only one Targaryean ever tried riding their dragon beyond the Wall and it was said the creature refused to go anywhere near it no matter what it's rider wanted.

It was possible in your mind that it wasn't just dragons the Wall was to keep out of the far north, perhaps the men guarding it, was keeping it's secrets safe from the dragonriders themselves. Magic keeps the creature from burning it's frozen land, the men hide their secrets and reasons from the pillars of destruction and massacre who conquered the lands the Wall protected. Once you you couldn't stop the feeling, ice and fire were fighting before your eyes, and even with the slash in your palm and bruise now discoloured around your neck, you'd still choose ice.

The question caught both men off guard but your mind wandered too far to return to keep up with their pace and topic. “There are animals beyond the Wall we don't have here, correct?” Turning when neither responded up to Tormund, he looked at you almost amused for a moment.

Nodding, “Aye, we do. Pretty Crow thinking of getting a wild pet all of her own?”

The seriousness painted in your gaze up at the gate either did not take them off guard or they did so in a silence you could not see. “Have you ever seen a raven with red feathers?” That came to be an easy no, but the next question caused a silence that stumped you and Jon both. “What about a crow with three eyes?”

When Tormund said nothing, you and Jon both looked over at him and Tormund slowly met the action with a curiousness in his eyes burning more intensely. “And where did you see that?” Not just you, and not see it with your own eyes.

Jon spoke for you, the hand now tight enough were he not hidden by gloves one would see the strain in his knuckles. “What does it mean?” Tormund played games, pretending it didn't mean a thing but you looked at the gate still. “Tormund.”

Your hands twitched at their side to pull the gloves from your skin and run over it's bark.

“Doesn't mean anything. Only interesting crows I've ever seen out North were you and Mance. And you'd look a lot less good at her side if you had a third eye, Snow.” Keep your gloves on you told yourself, why was it begging you to do this now?

You needed to leave. You were too tempted looking up at this gate to grasp hold of it and ask the old gods to just give you the answers Jon needed, and you weren't going to do so in front of him here and now of all times. But Jon kept you at his side as long as he and Tormund stood there.

Not really noticing how easy it was to let Jon speak for you sometimes, while your head still sat in this utter mess. The dizzy feeling however, only had you grow both far colder in blood and warmer on skin then such a place asked for.

The three eyed crow in your dreams didn't feel a threat, but if that were true, why did the stranger call himself the Crow's Eye? How did this all fit together here and now? Who were any of these people now invading your visions and dreams as if they had any right too? None did but the wolf by your side.

“Is this what you looked like waiting for him to come home before?”

Your head turning to the side, seeing Theon walking up as you leaned against a stone railing looking higher up out to the south. Your hands folding and unfolding whatever paper it was which had been preoccupying yourself without your gaze blinking once against the unchanging sight of snow and fields set against the late morning sun. A graceful, “Huh?” Left you just as Theon leaned next to you in a similar position as yourself.

Gesturing out to the sight with his head he elaborated. “Waiting for your father to come home, can imagine you up on the cliff sides watching for his ship to appear.”

A low voice left you sitting with as much nostalgia as it did defeat. “And how did you come to that conclusion?”

Though you both were not terribly dissimilar to one another in that regard. “I remember watching my Uncles fleet sail off when it all started. Never watched them come home though, first ship I ever saw come into our waters was Robert Baratheon's.” You could hardly recall those days anymore, your time on Dragonstone during the Greyjoy rebellion was spent so heavily with Shireen you had little time to reflect on where your father was.

Your hands stalled on the paper but kept it folded tight as if maintaining the tensity in your fingertips as well. Terse was the manner which your voice came out, “I used to bring Shireen out with me, she was just old enough then I could walk her around the main grounds and I'd bring her to the stone path and watch with her until the sun set.” The huff which left you wasn't quite a laugh but enough so it might have passed as one. “I remember being so relieved the day I saw his ship in the harbour, now everytime I know he's coming my way I dread it more and more.”

“He's a tough old goat your father, I'll give him that. Not sure why none of that passed to you.” A glare flickered towards him from the side was met with a jesting smirk, your own rolled into the back of your head as you shook your head. Gaze back on the sight of nothing. “He doesn't think you're a traitor anymore, he likes Jon well enough, what else do you have to worry he's going to say? If anything, I'd have guessed he wouldn't care much that you remarried.”

Were Theon drinking anything, he may have dramatically spat it out as you so dryly commented, “I would wager you right on that. Considering he so very casually asked me in White Harbour if Jon and myself were bedding one another.” You could see his head spin to look at you incredulously but you only shrugged. “Not ones for tact, my family. If you haven't noticed. Will cut right to the very awkward chase.”

“What did you tell him?”

Once more your voice was far too monotone for what came with it's words. “Oh I relayed to him in explicit detail the manner in which Jon fucked me against the wall in the Castle Black right after he stopped being a corpse. What do you think I would have said to him, Greyjoy?”

A mighty laugh left him, a lift tugging at your heart. Little by little he looked a little more like the Theon you once knew, at least when it was just the two of you. Shaking his head he almost looked a bit shocked if not amused. “I knew something happened that night, but this? You really brought a man back to life and let him just have his way with you right after? Not quite the rigid girl with far too much self respect for your own good which I first met.”

Perhaps you'd laugh, if you didn't feel a wave of guilt slam right away. You changed your mind, you didn't want Theon to go back to the man he was before. He should be nowhere near what led to what Ramsay did to him ever again. Instead, you swivelled it back to you as if keeping your own mind away from the thought. “I'm nothing like that girl, anymore. Not sure she would recognize me were I to see her here and now.”

“Good. No one wants you to be.” That was how you knew it was true, the sheer fact of not having the inclination to argue or debate back with Theon of all people even if just for the sake of it. You still felt dizzy even after being out of that tunnel over an hour.

Olly had to bring you water himself because you at one point felt as if you were warm and cold and sweating and wavering on your feet. You hadn't left that spot since then, leading to the current quiet tones between you and Theon. You felt no better however. You felt just as dizzy and hazy in your mind then you did standing right up in front of it, even worse, your hands still twitched to run over it with your bare fingertips as you would the Weirwood in Winterfell.

A childish part of you wanted to return to your chambers and crawl under the sheet to block the world out until the haze dissipated but the last thing you wanted to do was hide away and act as if you couldn't handle the world. Everyone around you already was working and you had spend the past hour or so trying not to faint. Maybe you'd dream of ravens and crows if you did. Or maybe just one. Or worse.

Perhaps sleeping was a bad idea for many reasons currently.

The first to arrive was not what you expected, nor any. They came alone, and with an urgency that could only relate to one thing. Black fur adorning over their person, the only to come to the Nightfort for now was a man of the Nights Watch. Riding through the gate, some very specific came first to greet them as you stepped into the cold once more but without the same enthusiasm.

Much like as you could see Jon and Sam reunite and stood far away, you felt it was not your place to intrude on now many people's reunion as Edd came through the gate, climbing from his horse. A glance to your right, your eyes found Theon and with a luck he read your thought process with an ease. The read of your expression not much of a mystery when it was painted in a blatant insecurity.

The sight of them all happy to once more see each other was something warm in the cold trapped in your chest, nor was it the fact that you were fairly sure none have ever been as thrilled to see you as they all were one another. No you moreso grew to realize, you had no idea how to stand in the background when you had no place and not look uncomfortable or off putting.

You barley fit in with a crowd anymore, and so much like the last time Jon and Edd reunited in the courtyard of a castle at the Wall, you and Theon slunk off out of sight before it became obvious the degree to which you otherwise felt you'd be intruding. Theon beside you not unfamiliar with the growing isolation he continued to watch you fall back into.

“Almost couldn't recognize you. What are you, half the size you were bumbling into Castle Black the first time?” It was easy to tell Sam was attempting to not appear so bashful, but in all likelihood hardly any had commented on anything of his size in a long time. None in Winterfell did nor did Jon imagine that was anything Maesters of the Citadel would comment on but one could always rely on Edd being the man to say the first blunt truth which came crashing through his mind.

Trying to deflect, Sam almost backtracked into a stumbling of words. “Perhaps not half..”

Jon felt a smirk grow easy, the swiftness in which Edd tossed back at him as if no time passed since the day Sam left. “If I didn't know any better I'd ask if they were starving you.”

Tormund was another easy greeting between them. Edd once resistant to the plan Jon put forth when he and Tormund were to go to the remaining free folk at Hardhome, but once Edd had joined he found what many of them found when giving each other a chance. Once they set aside the killing each of them had done to the other group and many of them were just men fighting for their survival.

“Everytime I think I forgot what being around so many crows feels like, one of you comes along and reminds me.” Gesturing vaguely behind him to Jon, “They named this one King and he still can't figure out how to stop dressing like one of you.”

Jon didn't know why he thought of it. Why he could see the two of them that day in the courtyard as he readied his horse that morning.

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

“It was always my colour.”

The last hug with Robb he ever shared fresh in his bones and the way Robb nodded just before parting ways, over to where you stood in a more solemn silence with your own horse ignoring the two wolves goodbye. As if to tell Jon to not let you part ways with him without a proper goodbye, knowing you'd avoid it if they let you. Their last interaction ever, Jon thought. And it was about you.

The talking around him continued, and overpowered the ability he had to stand there and contemplate why he was even thinking about it. But really, he knew why, and it sat odd in his stomach enough he shoved it all down as soon as the thought cropped up in the first place. Not right now he thought.

Cutting through the noise, Jon asked him plainly, “What are you doing here, Edd?”

Unlike his normal however, Edd answered Jons question with one of his own. “You have the lift up and running yet?” It wasn't yet high on his priority, trying to get the Nightfort even functional was what the day had been about so far, but Jon could see something in Edd's eyes.

Something distant and unnerved, and strangely, not dissimilar to the look you had sometimes when Jon knew you were hiding a vision or dream you had he was not privy too. A much smaller, darker part of himself scolded for even allowing a possessiveness to grow. As if somehow you having something in common with Edd which Jon didn't know about made a sharp edge of territorial urges beg to come forth when it was not needed.

Jon trusted Edd as much as he did Tormund, but at the least Jon could also trust Edd's thoughts towards you were nothing of that sort. But he told himself to get a grip, and focus on the issue which mattered here and now. “If we start now, I can have it running by nightfall.”

Edd didn't have a shred of amusement in that one, and seemed to wait to explain the urgency of why he was here until then. “Good. 'Cus I already received word from Eastwatch and the Shadow Tower and they're reporting the same thing we're seeing at Castle Black. Knew if you just got here, you'd have no way of knowing about it yet, but you'll need too.”

A seriousness tensed in Jon's eyes as his voice matched in a gruffness. “Know what?”

Yet he only confirmed Jons suspicion, “It'll be easier to explain after I show you.”

That for now, would have to do. The lot of them had much to catch Edd up on in the meantime anyways, the men all finding somewhere warm to lay out what he and Sam had put together but Jon couldn't stop that same burning possessive feeling. He knew Ghost was around here to keep an eye on you, his hands clenching tight, imploring himself not to invade his direwolf's mind instantly just to figure out where you were, and why you hadn't appeared to greet Edd yourself.

Considering as they moved further into the grounds the man himself asked without a shred of hesitation as your name came up, “You hiding her away, or what?” Jon's brows narrowed as he looked at him in question, but Edd was as casual about it as he was everything. “Wouldn't surprise me, the way you watched her at Castle Black I'm surprised you two aren't even on your first kid, yet. Thought by now you'd have her up to six how much you'd leer at her.”

Almost like jesting boys, Jon argued back in an instant, “I don't leer at her.”

Edd huffed a disbelieving laugh, “Yes you do. Think they invented the word just to describe the way you never could stop staring at her like you were obsessed with her.”

Sam didn't help one bit, the amusement on his voice piping up from Jons other side. “He's still like that, don't let him tell you he doesn't. I made the mistake of interrupting them once and I think Jon was about ready to tear my limbs off for it.”

Jon grumbled to himself, knowing Sam was right and the annoyance at how no matter the months gone between them, his brothers still knew him well enough they could take the piss out of him without thought. They and Robb all had that in common it seemed

It made Arya mad to think about.

For a while, it was a bit easier to forget some of it. Years on the run it felt, most nights never having anything close to a roof over her head, and her family separated or many of them gone. She could think of her family and think that she should find Sansa, as she should the rest of them. And yet, Arya sat there in the hall that day looking over the ravens from Ser Yohn Royce to Jon, which he had given her permission to look over, and it made her mad as more and more memories came rushing back to her mind.

Sansa had every right to be upset she knew, after all, while Arya had chased Nymeria off to spare her, her sisters direwolf wasn't here for far worse reasons. Cersei had taken her ire out on the Starks for an incident Joffery instigated, and when the guard told her there was no trace of Arya's direwolf, just as they thought it was going to be over, the Queen had turned to the crowd and said, “We have another wolf.”

But, she wasn't the only one who lost someone that day. Sansa lost Lady, but it wasn't until the next day did Arya learn Mycah was dead. He got scared and ran away when Joffery had started swinging his sword at Arya and now he was dead. The entire time Sansa had stood there defending Joffery, telling Arya to stay out of things and got angry only at them “spoiling everything” while Arya was the one being properly attacked.

Yes, Sansa had every right to be upset about Lady but Arya was still blamed for it all when her own friend was dead. A friend no one cared about. They had been at the table in their quarters long after settling into Kings Landing, and she could recall feeling grateful when you had walked in.

Since arriving in Kings Landing, she hardly saw her father until evening and then he'd many times be shut away in his chambers scribbling away. When you weren't at her fathers side, you'd normally be out of the castle entirely usually finding your way to the docks by the water. Saying you preferred to ensure things were running smoothly yourself rather then have the men make mistakes and lie about it. But on occasion you would manage to make it to a meal before leaving again.

Not that Arya was in the best of moods, but at the very least when you came in it meant Septa Mordane was given a break from the girls, and Jeyne Poole, normally found at Sansa's side scurried away, being scared of your scowl and short demeanour. You were also the only one Arya's tone could be short with and you'd never take offence to it personally.

Instead of eating, she had been holding the knife sat out with her plate and stabbing it into the wood, her mind still upset and needed something to occupy it. You had looked between the tense silence of the sisters and chose the easier subject to tackle. “What exactly are you doing, may I ask?”

“I'm practising.” She had replied, and when it was Sansa who asked for what, she hadn't hesitated to look over to her and shortly reply, “The prince.” You had called her name in a quieter warning but the lid was off and Arya's temper flared up. “He's a liar and a coward. And he killed my friend.”

Defending him as always, Sansa piped up “The Hound killed your friend.”

They both knew while it was true, that was as fair as Sansa being mad at father for Lady. So Arya, without even stopping the childish stabbing at the table almost lectured her older sister. “The Hound does whatever the prince tells him to do.”

Back and forth they went, as you rather then sitting down right away, moved more to their side of the room in a watchful quiet. Sansa gave no real rebuttal but looked at Arya still and spat, “You're an idiot.”

Naturally, Arya told the truth which was not the accusation she told her sister. “You're a liar. And if you told the truth, Mycah would be alive.” She had stabbed the knife a final time into the wood in as her heart shrunk in on itself at the thought once more but Sansa refused to let her have the last word.

Raising her voice shrill as it was the day she yelled at them by the river but still quiet in a smugness. “Go ahead, call me a liar all you want. You won't be able to when I'm married to Joffery. You'll have to bow to me and call me your grace.”

Arya looking back on it knew it was childish, but she was younger and rash and angry and did it before she knew you'd stop her. Reaching over the table, Arya practically flung halfway across to where her sister sat. Snatching a half orange from the table, she threw it at Sansa's dress. It landed with a plop against the white lace trim against her torso, and fell to the floor as she shrieked while Arya's tone was much more mocking. “You have juice on your dress, your grace.”

In an instant, as if wrangling rowdy horses, you almost didn't even bat an eye as you grabbed Arya before she could sit back down. Pulling her from her seat with a more proper scold, “Enough of that.” Only to have Sansa interrupt. Your hand curled into Arya's shoulder as you kept her mostly behind you at that point.

Yelling at Arya, Sansa shouted what Arya had yet to forget. “You are an animal,” Echoing what the Queen had passively said about Arya and Nymeria that day at the Inn, only Sansa didn't stop there as she tried to hide her tears. “They should've killed you instead of Lady-”

In an instant you yelled Sansa's name louder then you had at Arya. It was the first time both girls in their lives actually had heard you raise your voice at either of them. It had startled Sansa into a quiet as she looked rather wide eyed and guilty at your twisting expression of disapproval. Arya felt herself shrink inward even moreso in the quiet minute which passed just as her father walked in.

“What's happening here?”

But, you did what you always were good at. You understood both girls. You knew why Sansa was overreacting and you knew why Arya was throwing a tantrum and covered with a swift ease for both of them. Your grip on her shoulder easing up, “The girls were riling the other up a little too much is all.”

Arya said nothing, and Sansa looked down to her plate as if nothing happened. Both were smart enough to recognize that you had covered for their immaturity, but Arya knew her father could sense the tension that you'd likely relay a little more diplomatically at a later point alone. Gesturing to her, her father told her, “Go to your room, we'll speak later.”

As Arya's eyes now though read over the raven scrolls, she could look even further back. She and Sansa still were rather young, and Bran while only a year younger then Arya was small enough that he didn't quite grasp things around him just yet. She had overheard after an argument with Sansa, her going to their mother.

Asking if it was a mistake, that grumpkins must have come and stolen her trueborn sister away. Their mother with an amusement on her light voice asking what would that make her now, and Arya in the present day had felt her body stiffen just as angrily now as it did when she and the too young Bran overheard what Sansa had said next. “A bastard, like Jon, she even looks like him she can't possibly be my true sister.”

It had bothered even only a girl of four in that memory as it bothered the now teenager of fifteen. Robb and Jon both were wonderful to Arya where Sansa was mean, but Jon had always been her favourite sibling. From as early as she could remember, he was there for her. Would walk into the hall for meals, passing her by and ruffling her hair to annoy her while fondly calling her “Baby sister.”

Jon was the one only second to their father who ever actually told Arya she was pretty, when that was something everyone only ever called Sansa. He'd indulge when she broke the rules or played a prank and even when Jon got to be too old to act a boy anymore, he never scolded Arya when she'd continue to be childish on her own.

Maybe she was too young to remember, but Arya had never known a point in her life where Sansa ever respected Jon or her. It made her more angry now, which made her hope what they suspected wasn't true. She didn't want Sansa to be involved in whatever ploy this was, because it meant their sister still refused to see Jon as a legitimate brother.

And if telling her trueborn sister she wished she died instead of Lady was how she acted then, she dared not think what way Sansa would treat her bastard brother now. Arya wanted her sister to come home, but not this way. She wanted Sansa to come home so what few of them were left could be a family where they all belonged.

Arya could forgive her sister after all these years if Sansa had grown the way all of them had for the better, but still she thought to herself. Even if Sansa had changed, she hoped Jon would never tell her the truth. He was always just her bastard half brother in the best of times, she dared not think what her older sister would do now finding out whose son by blood he really was.

The Sansa she knew then, would tell the first person she sees just to make a claim for his title herself.

You had simply intended on redoing the wrappings around your palm but here still you were looking at it intently. The sliced cut looked nothing unusual anymore but there was no taking back the memory of how unnaturally red it was when Theon had yanked your wrist up to see it. Or the pain that erupted from that every cut the single moment before flames engulfed the wight before you. There was no fooling anymore over it.

There was no source of fire in the room, and it came right from you onto the creature. There was nothing else to speculate and yet you hated every second of it. You found yourself thankful neither Beric nor Thoros came to you about it further, but it wasn't their words alone waiting to strike, and as it turns out Selyse continued to very good at cornering you into uncomfortable discussions.

She had not so gently dismissed Olly from the room but nothing else had been said quite yet the moment the door closed. Her eyes not on you, but trailing to the fire burning near the back of the room had your own peeling back from showcasing a glare as you finished off tying the cloth around you off.

Your mothers voice was low as it was entirely genuine. “I have never asked you to believe as I do,” Inhaling deeply, you continued to not look her way. “But the Lords power continues to follow you wherever you go.”

Only a mutter hissed from under your breath, “Tell your Lord to leave me be, then. I don't pray to him.”

Tilting her head as if to implore you to listen, knowing you were too stubborn to even return her gaze from here. Making her slow way around to the other side of the table your arm was draped over, you were carefully pulling your gloves back on with a slight wince at the tightness when pulling across your palm.

Reaching on her own, she grasped at the leather for you, almost pushing your free hand away as moved the material over the wrappings much easier and with less force then you'd push with. “I didn't pray to him for most of my life, but that doesn't mean he isn't watching.”

Your eyes flickered up as you pulled your arm back and down onto your lap. The uncomfortable twitching wish you had kept the fur cloak on this side of the room, so at least you'd have something to hide your need to fidget in their warm depths. Selyse matched your gaze, but they were not demanding nor even judging as you always felt with such discussions.

Your mother and her faith has always been a tricky spot for you. After Shireen fell ill, you had lost much of your own faith in the Seven. Hardly going into the Sept and you had not returned to the idols on the beach until the night Jons forces had beaten Aegons. You prayed and prayed for your brothers and prayed in the Winterfell sept for your mother to not lose the child in her womb that time around and then when they answered, they almost took Shireen away just as fast.

Your mother always fell deeper into it. The most devout of House Florent it seemed. Your Uncle Alester believing much like her and even followed his youngest sibling into following the Lord of Light once the red woman came to their shores. The rest of their side of the family you did not know. Ser Axell still worshipped the Seven, which was the sin he committed to be burned in the first place, but whatever distant relatives you had outside of your mother and two uncles you hardly knew them.

Your Uncle Alester had a daughter in the Reach but you knew nothing of her. By the time you were born he lived on Dragonstone and scarcely mentioned what family his daughter went on to likely have. Then you knew, once Renly was dead, your father sent him and many guard you knew to rule Storm's End in his name, now that by rightful law, Storm's End passed to Stannis's lineage. A mess in and of itself that turned into. Difficult to have a lineage to follow when your firstborn child kills your second and only other child, and that daughter is married twice to Kings in the North.

Your mind a bit of a mess of thoughts scattered about, your mother took up the mantle to fill the silence between you both once more. “I have done and said things I regret, many things, including what I believed was for the greater good. I would tell myself, no act done in service of the Lord of Light could ever be a sin, that I thanked him everyday for being the Lady Melisandre to us. I served him as loyally as I believed in him, but he does not require such devotion from us all.” Your jaw clenched, tongue being bitten down against roughly at the womans very name passing your ears.

Not wanting to drift into thinking of where she could possibly be now, you muttered in a dry tone not truly looking at anything in particular. “I presume the point you are trying to get at, is that the three of you discussed me behind my back.”

Selyse no doubt was once more looking to you in a scolding but you had not the strength to endure it at the moment. Her voice a pinch more tender then which you expected. “They do not think our paths have all crossed by coincidence, and neither do I. The only thing I am asking is for you to keep your mind open to the possibility the only one answering your prayers-”

Stern and short, you cut her off with a flashing of warning in your eyes. Sharp as an edge, while your palm burned as did the scar on your stomach. “Did you try converting Shireen on these matters?”

Almost guilty did your mother appear for brief passing seconds, though it was hidden under her natural guise of quiet and poise rather well. “We tried on more then one occasion, but it appeared Shireen never quite took to it.”

One could only wonder the attitude she would give towards such a subject, if you knew your baby sister as well as you thought. “When the Seven Pointed Star is the first you read, it's difficult to find faith in anything else.” Though, not impossible. Very clearly as your branch of this House would indicate. Three followers of the Seven down to none in some years.

“It is, but faith in him or not, Thoros of Myr believes the Lord has allowed his power to run through you freely. I have not seen even in the Lady Melisandre, such ease at his power without even asking for something of him first. Almost as if it comes to you naturally where all others had to gain their connection to such ways.”

You were hesitant, the burning in your stomach contrasting to the feeling of the cold metal against your torso of Shireens hidden away necklace. The whisper was unsure, and you nor him had spoken much of it. You both tended to prefer to accept and look beyond that night considering the rest would require talking of what led to it. “Jon has never been unsure how he returned. From the moment he came back, he insisted he's known it was me who did it. But I never did anything. I didn't perform anything, didn't ask anything, bringing Jon back was never even possible in my head. All I know is that one moment he was dead and the next he was..”

The fading meant one thing but seemed innocuous to your mother thankfully. You needn't not elaborate on just what occurred in the very first actions taken place one you and Jon reunited. Maege would never let it go were you to tell her.

“Strange things follow you, and I only want you to consider it unwise to write off certain manners it might be coming from.” It wasn't judgment she spoke with but you felt it all the same. After what the red woman has done you wanted nothing to do with something she committed such atrocities in name of.

Breathing heavy you forced the words out as even and collected as possible. “What's happening to me..this is more then whatever your beliefs tell you. It's..this is something else entirely. The Lord of Light is anywhere and everywhere. It doesn't matter where you go, it seems to follow you. But something is..it's keeping me here. Keeping me in the North as if I must be here.” Looking into the distance of nothing, your voice turned down to but a whisper. “Something bigger is trying to tell me something. So you may be right, I may be here for a purpose, but it isn't for your god.”

Selyse was silent was she watched, a connection you knew she had no understanding of and yet you knew too well it was impossible to explain to anyone at all. Why you said it, you couldn't be sure but it came running from your lips regardless. “I had dreams and visions before I died.” Her eyes flying up to your unsure ones, “I never understood what they were, or even thought they were real until..”

Swallowing heavy you pushed passed that memory. It led neither you nor Jon down a path you wished for him to revisit. Your mother leaned forward, something akin to wonder in her voice. “Were they like-”

“No.” It was more distressed then you meant, but why hide the feeling inside. “This is worse. Far worse, I can't even begin to describe what these are like now. If I had any when I came back I barley noticed until that night on the ship. It started then and it keeps getting worse.” There was a twisting in your gut that seemed to match the burning of your scar and it left you without breath. “Something is tethering me to the North, mother. But I don't understand why.”

Or did you not? It certainly seemed as if it was trying to come to you.

The quiet between you lasting not long, your hand returning in a fidget on the table almost tapping against it. Your gaze cast to the side with it barley coming out of you. “Does he know?” Your mother answering no swiftly, you felt your jaw twitch almost giving away your disbeleif. “Are you going to tell him?”

Leaning forward, Selyse tried gaining your attention with a burrow in your brow, a lecturing tone to boot. “If you are asking if I keep secrets-”

Without second thought did you cut through, still not looking at her but even shorter then previous you spoke. “I am asking if he's safe at Winterfell.” Meeting her eyes, a softness you felt not the energy to read into came forth as she nodded a yes.

Your jaw clenching again as you looked away once more, but she did not take it with that as the end of such a discussion. “I won't sit and defend it to you, but he did what he thought was necessary. At the time.” The further you said nothing the more your mother read the doubt. “Your father has changed since, he has grown passed what led him on that path. If you talk to him-”

Snapping over to her, she could read the anger brewing just beneath the surface with ease, as little as you attempted to hide it. “Gendry is my blood. I have to protect him. I didn't once, I didn't the second time but I can and I will now.” Looking back and forth as a weight built in your throat, you settled on looking in a different spot all together to avoid the feeling rise further. “He wasn't the only one I met. I met a girl, no more then fifteen or sixteen. She worked in one of Lord Baelish's brothels, and she had a baby. Not even one yet. Barra. Looked just like Shireen did her age.”

Only a whisper remained, and your mother too knew what it was you thought of. “No one could have known what Joffery was going to do-”

The crack in your voice was not quite at an upset, but it was not what you could see as collected either. “Of course I could have known. I knew what he was, what he was capable of doing. I don't even know how many of them there were.” Hand tensing into a fist, you were grateful the glove was back on as to not tear into the skin. “They were all my blood. My family, exactly as Gendry is and the only other one I knew was a baby girl. All they'll be remembered as were a bunch of slaughtered bastards, and I don't even know any of their names. They should be in Storms End. Resting with the father they never knew they had, with a family that should have been there to care about them.” Finally through something shaking in your lungs did a conclusion find itself in the air. “I won't let that happen again. Gendry and I are the only ones left. And as long as I have to keep him safe from what my own father tried to do to him, I will. No matter what.”

He had arrived come nightfall. Your own watchful figure distant even moreso then before up on a landing with the knowing you should go greet him. But you didn't have the words yet for that, not in front of other people. Whatever he may bring up you knew, was not going to be in the place he stood in the courtyard. Too many people around on both sides and you were well aware of your fathers tendencies.

Between you both, your father liked Jon more easily. An interrogation about certain matters were not going to be found between them, but you. You were his daughter and thus his misgivings would be demanded answers from you alone. Though as you watched from afar, Jon and Stannis greet one another with an ease you never knew from the later, it seemed the company at your side was considering their own interpretations of events.

Olly stood beside you, your gloved hands braced against the wood tense as he glanced between you and the scene below. Happy you were, that he was sat least direct about it. “Are bastards not supposed to marry highborns, your grace?”

The smirk coming to you was easy, as was the lightness in your tone with a brow raising at what you too once thought. “In most families, it is not advised. Certainly not within royal ones.” Asking if that was true, why between the two present Kings, did there not appear to be any issue. “I think my father enjoys having a son more then he despises my choices in life for once.”

Glancing to one another, your head tilted with a small bit of passive jest in between the tenseness within your muscles as Olly muttered something more unintelligible no doubt at your fathers expense, not with the confidence to say it. Following up with one much more acceptable to put forward, “It still is a King you married.”

Tilting your head the slightest bit, you nearly relented. “Yes. But my father liking Jon, and my father liking Jon being married to me are not the same.” In a moment which still took the boy by surprise, he asked if all highborns were this complicated about things or just your family, and you laughed rather freely. Light, but still freely. “Most of us are to a degree, but I think it is a fair assessment to say the Baratheons are indeed a special kind of insufferable.”

Olly was clearly attempting not to say anything, so you said it for him. “You work for me you know, you're allowed to agree. I'm aware more then anyone how difficult I make everything.”

“Your grace-”

Quick on the draw though, you cut through his formality. “Oh, so you've never though to yourself, why can't she just do things the easy way for once?” Turning with a raised eyebrow to his own gaze, the childish smirk on his face only caused you to match more knowingly. An arm pulling him more into your side with a playful jostle as he dropped a bit more stature into amusement. “Do me a favour, go check on how progress is going on the lift and let Jon know.”

Watching him take off, you too could still feel eyes on you. But not Ollys. Eyes turning from one direction to another, you found one which did not feel it. The figure of Ghost approaching now that you stood alone before nudging into your front. A small smile forming as you let your hand come up to run along his fur. “I don't suppose you have any advice on the matter do you?”

A small huff nearly running his head into your side affectionately, you grinned. Hands now running along his ears firmly. But looking to the distance, still both sides of two Kings discussing things with one another did you stumble upon the eyes watching you. Just as held back as he had been hours before in the morning, the manner in which Tormund watched you was new.

He had nothing to say about the mention of a three eyed crow, but he knew of the Sight and he knew of many more things beyond the Wall which did not garner such a reaction. But like many times before in this day, did you turn away. Prompting Ghost to follow inside closely, until nightfall, there was little use for you to interrupt the others work.

Though, sometimes you still were not sure if it was just work you were avoiding interrupting, or the bonds of men you felt small in comparison to, or the very people involved all together. Jon had once said it could feel as if everytime he got somewhere with you, you would proceed to take ten steps back from him. And it felt true even now, but there was too much in your mind that you didn't know how to settle, or from where it stirred back up.

But maybe you thought, being back at the Wall was more then just a move towards what you were all fighting towards. It might also be the place throwing you back to memories of the last time you were in a place like this, and the memories that caused you to avoid disrupting Jons life in the first place.

The problem was though, you were not the only one who noticed. You were certainly not the only one who noticed. Theon could tell since being here, something was more wrong then the strange events which had just played out, and he could see Jon felt something was wrong too.

You avoiding your father, and much chaos around to settle the new company having arrived, Theon found something grow within him.

That just maybe, he had made a mistake. Because it was not simple want of avoidance in your eyes, it was something he recognized. You were not there yet, but he knew you would be soon. You'd avoid and avoid until that darkness came back and this time Theon decided to man up about it. No one had told him, not you, not Maester Wolkan, and not Theon himself. But Jon had asked him months previous what Ramsay had done to you, so he would know what to do to start helping you, and Theon wasn't honest.

But too much had passed between then and now, and betraying your trust meant making up for the lies of omission Theon was too scared to commit last time. By nightfall, the lift would be operational, and just perhaps he thought, now was the time to say it.

He knew you might hate him for it, but Theon lied for you last time and this time, he would be truthful before everyone had to watch your mind spiral all over again the way you were pretending it wasn't. He felt guilty telling him without your permission, but Theon knew Jon needed to know these things.

Already it already didn't sit well with the man knowing he was being kept in the dark intentionally. You didn't tell him because you were clearly afraid it was your fault, it reflected on you that it meant you didn't deserve what love Jon would never stop giving you. You were always hard on yourself, but none moreso then blaming you for what Ramsay forced you to do.

Maybe he should have given you a warning he was going to tell him, but you would've begged Theon to not do it, and he would've given in. So he didn't. Theon loved you like his own sister, and over a decade of being raised with him and now him being married to you, Jon was as good as his own brother he had remaining. And the Starks as a family were at their best when being entirely honest with one another.

So Theon took advantage of that evening. You were preoccupied with avoiding the arrival of your father at the Nightfort, and with others drawing your focus at every other time also occupying your workspace, it gave Theon the chance to approach Jon alone.

“I need to speak to you about something, in private.” This time, it was Theon who looked stern and serious instead of that day in Castle Black when it was Jon. But the nerves he had felt in the moment in Castle Black, were nothing compared to the shatteringly broken look in Jons eyes as he realized the extent of why you had refused to tell him the truth.

Theon was as honest as he was blunt. “I never told you because she didn't want me to, but now I know she doesn't want to because she thinks you'll see her differently. Like it changes anything about who she is now..”

Grey eyes wide as they were screaming in an unspoken horror, Jon opened and closed his mouth a few times before pacing along the length of the room. A hand running over his mouth instead as he turned to look back. Still just as wide eyed as before. He hardly looked like a King in that moment, more like a boy. Finally finding a voice in a distant rasp, “How often did he make her-”

“Just once. For that at least. That was only once. I can't say how often he made her endure the rest of it, but I'd wager a lot.” Jaw set and his hands tensed as he crossed his arms over his chest, Theon looked the angry he expected Jon too. “He loved making her do those things, and then leave her to get dressed so Lady Walda could walk her to supper. So she'd have to sit next to Ramsay and eat as if they were a family and nothing was wrong.”

Still quiet, Jon had hardly blinked as he only could look at Theon with something more devastated then he was capable of handling. So he turned to the side, paced along towards the window and found distraction looking out it. He thought it would be a red, steaming rage Jon would react with, not the heartbreaking red in his eyes like a boy wanting to cry.

Gods, Jon was truly so very in love with you, Theon thought. It wasn't fair, after everything both of you had been through, not even in marriage did you and Jon catch a break. He hoped your years together back when they were all younger were happy. Despite being secret and forbidden he hoped those years were easy and happy. Because your new life together kept refusing to let you both breathe.

The strain in Jons voice made Theon selfishly thankful he wasn't looking at him anymore. “You said Ramsay's men would..who?” Jon had sent what remained of the Boltons bannermen split between Castle Black, Eastwatch by the Sea, and the Shadow Tower, in a bit of an ironic punishment. Now Theon was fairly certain if he gave names, Jon was going to give those names to Edd and once he got back to Castle Black, there'd likely be more then a few hangings that night.

“They- they didn't..” How on earth was Theon supposed to explain that? He was fairly certain it would not be comforting in the least to tell Jon that Ramsay only allowed his men to make use of one specific part of you. It likely would not at all be any better to hear or to say.

And it wasn't.

“Why didn't you tell me about any of this when I asked you what he did to her?”

Jon was trying not to yell now, not wanting the attention drawn to the conversation but Theon felt the meaning behind it all the same. “Because you would've beaten Ramsay to death the day you reclaimed Winterfell, or even worse you'd have done it the second you met him to discuss terms. Which wouldn't have helped her, wouldn't have taken any of it back. She didn't need you to avenge all that, she just needed you to be there for her. Telling you all that would've set you off, and she didn't need any more of that.”

Asking if anyone else knows about it, the worst which 'it' spoke of, Theon could at least placate that only he, you, and Maester Wolkan were the ones alive left for that detail to know outside now of Jon. He mentioned Barbrey Dustin had heard rumours of it, but Theon knew such rumours had come from Myranda, with one dead and the other in a cell, that specific story wasn't leaving to the wider world.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Jon clearly was trying to keep calm again. “For now this stays between us. I don't want you telling her I know. It'll upset her and she doesn't realize that's not good for her right now.” Theon paused, asking why.

It was Jons turn to hesitate, but he wasn't ready to say it yet. He was supposed to have told you before even leaving Winterfell, but now? Now he was even more worried about how you'd react then ever before if he let you find out alone.

“Is there a reason you've been hiding today?” As soon as Jons low voice rasped in your ear the tension in your shoulders deflated in an instant. Relaxing back into his warm touch as one hand held at your waist and the other slid across your stomach to pull you back into him. Gloved hands wrapping what you could around his forearm, were you facing the other way he'd be large and warm enough to shield you from the cold entirely as you stood out in the night.

You barley gave Jon a shrug, quiet only for him to hear. “I'd rather not have intruded. You were all close in a way I'm not, none of that is my place.”

Were you to wager gold, you'd have guessed Jons brows furrowed as he leaned over you more to try and see your face. His voice low near your ear in a hinted plead not to go down such a path. “You're my wife, darling. You're place is with me, no matter who else is there.” Giving but a slight nod, Jon chuckled as the sensation even through his layers and yours, rumbled against your back. “Besides, if you were there, would have spared me being made fun of.”

Your face twisted, eyes brightened only tinge asking “What were they making fun of?”

The arm around your front ran along your stomach over your scar, a grin blatantly following the words Jon mumbled in your ear once more. “Edd seems to think we're slacking in how many children we don't have.”

Grinning with ease, you felt him laugh along with you, the sound making your heart grow strong in an adoration of such rarities. Leaning back a bit, you felt him rest the side of his head against yours, “Shall I remind them we haven't even been married two months yet? These things take time.” Running along your scar back and forth, the gesture soothed what once would be a feeling on edge in your heart.

Each day, it got a little bit easier you supposed.

Despite the cold around you, Jons breath danced hot across your ear. “Do you want to know what's been on my mind?” Nodding, you thought nothing of any hidden intentions, soothing yourself back into his comfortable warmth. “If I had gotten you pregnant that night in Castle Black, you'd be about ready to give birth right now.” The hand on your scar more flat as if he yearned to run it along the skin covered by too many layers.

Rolling your eyes, the jest in your heart came off so naturally it almost sounded as if you were making fun of him right along his brothers. “If you had gotten me pregnant that night, you wouldn't have allowed me to do over half the things I've done since then. Not sure how much I'd have stepped foot near a battle if you had something to say about it in that time.” A pause as your eyes narrowed putting the timeline together on your own memory, “If I hadn't known I was with child by the time we were ready to go up against Ramsay, you'd have yelled at me afterwards for fighting in it even more then you already wanted to.”

Almost on the tip of his tongue was a denial, but Jon relaxed his person and thought better of it. You both knew that one would have been true. Something else was on his mind you could sense, but only giving a patience for him to get there when he was ready. “I know we've never talked about it properly.” The quiet giving a question in the air which he elaborated on as he pulled you even closer into his chest. “Having a child. We've joked about it, I've rambled about it when we've been together, but we've never actually talked about it.” The hand on your scar giving more pressure wishing to feel your bare scar as if he needed too.

Your heart was a bit heavy, but once more, easier day by day to think about it. But it was the swiftness of how you dived so close to the core of Jons gentle words in your ear which caught him off guard. “I know why you don't bring it up, Jon. Truly I do, for a while I didn't want to talk about it either.” Inhaling deeply, you cut to the chase of what you were just starting to think was Jons intention here. “I know you want children, and I know you won't ask me for them.” Your gloved hand covering his on your scar and Jon changed tactics to press your own against your stomach and he covered one of yours with both of his, your other hand grasping what you could of his wrist.

Sighing deeply, Jon's presence stood heavy behind you as he tightened his hold on your hand moment by moment. The breath shaking with nerves in your ear, had your head tilt somewhat. A narrow passing your eyes in an innocent wonder of what he suddenly of all people seemed uncertain of saying, but not the right chance to speak it as a very different voice cropped up from the side of where you and Jon both stood.

“And I thought hearing Sam go on about Gilly was sickening.” Turning swiftly to the side, the approaching Edd was followed by the Sam in question, Tormund, Theon, and Ser Davos by the side of your curiously silent father. All three former behind him amused despite Jon growing more rigid behind you, and even worse so as you pulled away respectfully in front of them.

Your tone however, the brightness in your eyes matched theirs whereas unbeknownst to you, Jons jaw clenched in a troubled scowl more serious then Edd's jesting should normally have elicited. “No need to act petty for what you don't have. What was it one of your brothers told me, Edd? That you had hoped women all over the Seven Kingdoms enjoy a uniformed man?”

A flat look fell across his face as he nodded to behind you to walk with him, expression in a matching lack of seriousness. “That's what I get for ever telling Hobb that story. He gets one beautiful woman complimenting his food and he tells you all my embarrassing secrets.”

Turning to follow down the path beside him, Jon almost didn't follow until Ser Davos and Stannis both stuck back with a questioning gaze at how tense he was compared to you. Shaking his head, Jon nodded for the two men respectfully, to go ahead first. Somewhat wrapping his dark fur cloak around his front more as if trying to hide how unsure yet unsettled he now felt.

He had gotten so close.

Coming now to where the lift up the height of the wall was stationed, you despite your misgivings, seemed to have found an ease in which Edd did not bother showing you any decorum or grandiose greeting. A banter from you came naturally at the accuracy of his statement. “Truly, it's almost tragic considering the uniforms of the Nights Watch do look rather catching. It just isn't women you're seeing day in and out to impress.”

A smirk almost came over you as he did not quite commit to his own glare, but it was not aided in his favour from Tormund speaking up. “You joined an army of men and thought women come running towards you? Sure some of you southern men look pretty enough, but not that pretty.”

Sam found his own amusement come easy towards Edd as well. “Who would've thought I would be the one to attract a girl before you did.”

Dry as ever, Edd shook his head. “Did I come here to put up with this or help you? Because it's starting to feel like the former.”

“There's no shame in admitting your allure isn't what it once was, Edd. You men can't all be Samwell Tarly's, some of you have to settle to be the Giantsbanes of the world.” Sharing a raised brow looking back to the large man in question and were so many people not here you knew that smirk meant he'd have the right words to knock down that high positioned jesting attitude in seconds.

Despite avoiding them just that early afternoon, it was notable how easily you found common ground amongst them. Never in your entire life in Kings Landing did you find any sort of companions with as natural ease in words as you continued to do so in the North. As if it was the place you were meant to be, something poked at your mind added.

In the ease of banter, none but two of them continued to notice how quick Jon had gone from soft and approachable to on edge and utterly quiet and closed off watching the figures ahead of them trait jests and mockings. They too, were also the ones lucky enough to know when not to provoke the bear, or wolf. Were it not already dark out, Jons eyes would have looked an angry black hiding the greys behind it now.

The land looked far more dark even in view of only the South from the rising lift. Your hands braced against the bars at the back near the wall, the wind picked up around the group of you and a shiver fell through your spine. Eyes drifting to the other side, yours found Jons wide and already trained on you.

A silent bright plead in them as if needing something you couldn't provide in the right here and now, and the yearning to go to him slammed you right in the chest. Not in front of all these people though, not in such a situation or in close quarters, but something about the softness of how he watched only you tugged at something.

Your brows raised ever so slightly as if trying to ask him what was wrong, but yet only a small smile was gifted back. Bright and gentle as he ever was but you felt yourself biting down against your tongue to keep the racing of your heart to something slower. Even in the cold and crowd here, Jon managed to take your worry and transform it right into something coming up into needing.

But the lift reached the top of the Wall, and filing out, you waited for the others to go first. Slowly making your way to Jon, seemingly waiting for you back he said nothing. Your lips parted to ask first, but he just pushed you gently in front of him at your lower back without a word. His hand much like earlier that day, slinking up to the white fur around your shoulders and curling into it just as none of the group was looking back at you.

Edd's voice finally begun to report, and Jon pushed you forward a bit more in order for you both to hear properly. “We kept getting more and more reports from rangers that they were seeing something far North, but we couldn't risk sending enough so far out to confirm it. So we had to wait and see, but then the days started getting shorter and slowly we saw it making it's way.”

Stannis's voice shouted a bit over top the swirling wind around. “Saw what?”

Turning the path, Edd reached one of the landings leading out to the North side of the Wall, and as you all gathered to look, silence fell upon each and every one of you. It was not in any dream, nor were any of you standing in a vision, but in the real world as you stepped up and closer to the edge where Edd stood. Jon's hand still firm behind you, as if keeping an ability to pull you from the edge, but everyone's eye's were wide.

It was far, so far off that it would take an unknown amount of weeks if not months to genuinely reach it.

The sky of the far North was utterly pitch black, no stars to be seen but it was covered up with a shimmering green. Waving thick in the night sky like a milk pouring against the dark and a shine glowing from it that memorized you as much as the pull of the Weirwood gate down below the ground did the same. As if the green made you want to pull your gloves off to reach out and grasp it.

Your father once more, was the first to speak up, as calm as he was unnerved only caught by your ears. “What is it?”

It had been Jon who answered, not Edd. “Them.”

All gazes found him, but he turned his head to the side to meet Edd's, who only nodded once slowly in a yes, yours never leaving the sight of green. “Aye. Days been getting shorter, and sooner or later that's going to reach us and we won't have days any more to worry about.”

Ser Davos somewhat behind you asked how he could be sure it was them, and while Edd's answer came in the formal report of what his rangers had found Jon had a much easier answer. The speculation running through the group until Jon tenderly rasped your name, you not noticing you hadn't blinked the second your eyes found the green.

Still, you didn't look away as you whispered. “It isn't normal darkness they'll bring, the further south they come the closer that will get. They bring it with them.” It was Sam that time repeated the ask of how you were sure, but it was the distance Jons eyes that was certain.

“Sam, what did the translation say?”

No one looked away from the shimmering green as Jon asked firmly. Pulling you now right into his side, you barley reacted as your eyes found nothing but the calling for it.

The answer almost didn't register to you, “It's the Nights Watch vow. I said the vow and that was how the gate opened the first time, but the symbols on the inside are also our vows.” Jon asking if that that included the symbols from the Others, and Sam nodded as wide eyed as everyone else. “Including the Others.”

Without his grasp, you may have fallen from the Wall, how dizzy you begun to feel. The white glow underground and the shimmering green glow in the far North your breathing picked up. Seen by the amount of white pouring from your every breath. Jon asked Edd how many rangers he currently had North, getting the answer of none in response.

“Good. Send word to the Shadow Tower and Eastwatch by the Sea. No one ranges North anymore for any reason. If any of them have men North, tell them to send a raven and get them back as soon as possible. If where they need to go isn't in the South already, no one is to leave.” Your head spun still further, it shook and it pounded and you begged to go back and see it once more or ask the unknowns why this both called to you and had you feel so unstable on your feet or in your mind.

You barley heard Jon even though he was giving orders right by your ear in an authoritative tone even more. “I'm not sending our brothers into another slaughter, and I don't want them thinking we're ranging North searching for one either.”

Standing next to Jons warmth, you could only see green, and you could only recall the sensation in a dream like vision almost a fortnight passed. The memory of an unseen freezing cold wrapping around your limbs like a lovers embrace, and yet it seemed in such a moment to stem in a harmony along the warm feeling Jon already was giving you. As if they were feelings tied together from him.

You had one thought, and the thought was you needed more answers and one way to get them was the only path available to you now. If they were coming, you had a purpose to fufill and it was to do more then be there to warm Jons bed. You had to be there for him in more ways then that and you couldn't do that if you couldn't get answers.

Your health, your well being be damned. They were coming and you'd sacrifice whatever was needed to ensure Jon lived through it to fight to the end. Even if it cost you yourself once more. The green wasn't terrifying like wildfire had been, but it was a symbol all on it's own without any bodies needed.

It was a message that you truly did not have time to avoid this anymore.

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