winter dreams

“I’ll be back to get you another batch,” Jon grunted as he fixed himself up, looking straight at you. “They also fixed some soup, you should get some before the rest of them eats it.” 

“Won’t you answer me, Jon?” You stopped Jon from taking another step forward, and he slowly lifts up your hand on his shoulder. “It’s been weeks, and I’ve got nothing on you.”

“It’s nothing,” he answered as he forced a smile. 

“No, it’s not nothing,” you said, moving forward. “You haven’t said a word aside from all the goddamn firewood and soup. I couldn’t even get a ‘Good morning’ from you. Remember those, Jon?”

Jon turned around, furious and it was the first time you have seen him like this aside from the times he was hunting in the woods as the rabbits all begin to flee away from him. He closed the tent and swung the flap shut and closed in inside the tent. “Well, what do you want me to say?” 

You were starting to get furious too, little by little— the energy was pure rage. “I want you—.” 

“Do you want me to tell you how much I’ve lost? Do you want me to tell you how much agony from the people’s tears I have heard in Castle Landing? Do you want me to tell you a story about all the bodies, and blood—.” 

“Okay, that is enough,” you breathed in, as you watched him walk pace around in the tent with his face all in mad, disgust, and pain. You wanted no more than just to ease him, hold him, listen to him— but this was not him. This was not the Jon you knew— from the day you’ve met him and the day he left— this was not him. “Enough!” 

“I’m sure you wanted to hear more! Don’t you?” Jon loudly said, kicking the wood away from him. He came closer to you, until you can feel his breath fanning on your face, and his brown eyes so dark, you wanted to pull away to breathe. “What else happened in the adventure? I lost somebody— well, I killed her myself! I mourned for her, and all the people that has suffered.” 

“Slow down—,” you said with gritted teeth. You were angry too. 

“I lost my Queen,” he finally said, as he turned away and paced around again. He left you bewildered in the spot. “She— I loved her! Then, I killed her.” 

It was all too fast. He used that word, love, for you before. When he finally got the courage to speak to you, and it escalated to the late nights and hushed laughter as one of the older women tries to sleep but is disturbed from your tent. He used that word, love, multiple times. It didn’t matter to you that much because you were scared. You were even more scared, when he had to leave, and you couldn’t bare to whisper in his ears that last week he was there the words, ‘No, don’t go.’

Jon caught up with himself, and he turned again to look at you as he took steps closer to you. He felt his heart sunk when he realized your watery eyes and red nose, that he knows isn’t from the cold. 

“No,” Jon stuttered, cradling your cheeks for the first time he was back, “Let me explain—.” 

“I gave you weeks to explain,” you whispered, reaching out to push his hands away. “Get out.” 

“If you would just—.” 

“Get out!” You loudly said, pushing him away. “Now!”

“No.” 

“No?”

“No.”

“I gave you weeks, Jon,” you whispered in the dark night. The fire was beginning to run low, too and it was starting to feel cold, but the rage was enough to keep you heated. Both of you. “Weeks, and all I got was about your fucking Queen. I… I know it’s hard because I know you love people, and I couldn’t imagine the pain you are in, but when I asked you about you? You are telling me about your Queen? You lost somebody? Your Queen? That you love?”

“Hear me out—,” 

“Hear me out, Jon. You’re not the only one who lost somebody. I lost somebody too. I lost you! You left me, with a goddamn scroll! I had to go back to nothing because I gave you everything, Jon. I love you, and I missed you terribly so, that it hurts to feel you are somewhere far with no guarantee you won’t come back in ashes,” you hushed angrily, wiping away the tears. You paced around, turning over your makeshift bed, unaware of the mess of the tent. You crouched down to pick up the scroll, “A goddamn scroll, with the words, ‘My love.’”

“I do love you,” Jon inched forward, stopping you to move. His warm hands met again your cheek, and you leaned in to his touch. He placed a kiss on your forehead, and held you like before. “Let me make this right.”

“For months, you made me believe I was the only one you love,” you whispered against his neck. He moved away to look at you. “Months, but it was all for nothing when you come telling me about your Queen. Move.”

“I thought about you day and night, there was no time I didn’t think of you—.” 

You cried at his words, and you reached forward to him. He reciprocated with the tightest hug and the warmest soul, you were scared to let go. You wanted forever in his arms, looking at his eyes, feel his lips on yours every morning and night to give each other pleasantries. You wanted forever in his calloused and strong hands, hands that knows every inch of your body, and you weren’t scared to lose yourself to him because you know he is gentle, and loving, no matter how dark his aura would be outside the tent. 

Then he took his hand off of your mouth, and cupped your chin as he whispered against your lips to keep quiet, to be still, and to come. His body went rigid against your shuddering figure as your moans filled his ears and he grinned widely as he closed his eyes. It was his favorite sound— to hear you break down before him in pleasure of his doing, feeling you writhe as he continued to work on you, and feel his fingers around your mouth as he felt you guide his long fingers for one more round. He opened his eyes, and now it was your time to devour him. His curly locks got in the way of his exposed skin, and your fingers got to working out his top as he watched you— continuing to work you up again.

He continued to watch you. He feasts himself on the idea of you— the way you groan his name, the way you whisper it softly once the hazy daylight fills in his room, the way you would hold him down as he gets himself dragged in under the bed for a couple of minutes, and most importantly, the way that the words would roll of your tongue as you gazed at him.

“Jon,” you whimpered, arching your back and feeling his stubble in contact with your neck. “Oh, gods...”

“Jon?”

Both of you stopped moving, his lips stopped sucking your neck, and he slowly reappeared in your vision. He was flushed against you, flustered with the cold wind and shocked to hear a familiar voice.

“Jon?”

Oswald, the stableman, asked again. Oswald was a big, old man with the deepest voice and by this point, you have already memorize what would happen. Oswald would appear in the stables, his eyes squinting in the dark as Jon again would place a hand over your mouth. You hitched a breath as he placed hs two fingers in your entrance, and worked his way up again. He curbed them inside you, feeling your back arch again— in pleasure and anticipation if both of you would ever get caught.

Oswald was also partially blind, already.

So it was a game between you and Jon.

Will you get caught?

Will Oswald spill the activity happening in his stable to the Lord of Winterfell?

Jon shushed you with his lips, biting down on your lower lip to catch it between his. That was how he shut you up. Jon pulled away, placing his forehead against yours and feeling the tiny beads of sweat on his skin. Both of you perked up when the thud of footsteps echoed out in the stables, and then you were left alone now.

“I told you,” Jon whispered against your lips. He helped you with your undergarments, lifting up your heavy skirts as you rested them against your waist. “We will never get caught.”

“It seems that Jon Snow is right again, huh?”

“It seems that way, my lady.”

His eyes crinkled at the ends as he grinned, helping you lace your top. Once he was done, he picked up the fur on the ground and placed it around your shoulders. He fixed up his trousers, lacing them all the way up as your fingers laced his shirt.

He placed a kiss on the crown of your head, towering over you as he held you in his arms all of a sudden. You knew what was happening, and you tried your hardest to smile through the pain. Jon held you longer until he felt your arms creep up and hold him by the shoulder. The cold wind has nothing against the warmth of your bodies, and Jon deeply sighed as he kissed you gently. He pulled away, his thumb resting on your lower lip.

“Will you be back?”

Jon sighed, and held out his hand as he guided you back to your quarters. He didn’t answer your question not until you were inside. Then he looked down on his feet, and you glimpsed at the man you love. He was the quiet and timid man— acting as if he was smaller than every one but he was one of the bravest you have ever seen. You loved his fierceness, dedication, and his drive for the better good.

It was a stupid question, and you know it.

You smiled, holding the knob of the door as Jon rocked on his heel. You squeezed his hand as he looked up to the meet your eyes. You knew the answer and it baffled you everytime Jon would be silent on the issue. Jon deeply sighed again, and he laid a quick kiss on your forehead.

“Go to sleep, my love, and I will see you in the morning,” he whispered as he walked away from your door. You looked down on the way, waiting for the silence to settle as you knew he was far away now.

In the morning, when Lord Stark and everybody has been settled on in their horses, when all the house sigils have been flagged up, all the lords and ladies of Winterfelle and commoners alike, it was time to bid farewell.

Quick glances and sneaky kisses and it was time to bid him farewell.

He straightened on his horse, and he turned his neck towards you. He nodded quickly— his eyes never leaving yours as the gates opened and slowly, they marched into the greater roads outside the wall of Winterfell.

No one knows about your time with Jon. Nobody knows why your eyes were red and your nose was running as the gates closed. Older women fussed over you— giving you cups of warm water and herbal drink to ease the cold. Nobody can sympathize with you because nobody knows that you shared something with Jon. It was a secret. A good kept secret— and it doomed your heart because you wanted him to stay, you wanted him to kiss you on the lips in broad daylight as the onlookers watched, you wanted him to hold you when you walk, and you wanted him to be with you a day longer, to feel him laugh in the morning as you harshly took back to thick furs on your gowned body as he shares a bed with you.

He always hogs the furs and the thick covers— and you wanted to him to do it again even if it all it did was annoy you.

Just one more day.