#imagininggameofthrones

"I realized that I have failed to make your acquaintance, my dear," he spoke one day as you passed by. At first you hadn't thought he had spoken to you, you were a simple handmaiden to a noble in King's Landing for the wedding of King Joffrey. Your footsteps faltered momentarily before you came to a complete stop and turned to face him, your breath hitched in your throat.

You felt your eyebrows raise. "I-Is it me you're speaking to, my prince?"

The Red Viper laughed heartily. "Of course it is," he smiled. "I have seen none more beautiful in this city. Where have they kept you hidden?"

Your face flushed. "I-I'm a handmaiden, my prince, no one special."

"Come now, that I doubt," he flashed another bright smile. "Your name."

"Y/N Rivers," you told him, a pang of shame shooting through your veins.

Oberyn clicked his tongue. "Ah, a bastard."

You ducked your head, your eyes searching the ground beneath you. "Y-Yes, my prince."

"Being a bastard is nothing to warrant such shame," the man spoke lightly. He reach out his hand, which was surprisingly cold even in the heat of King's Landing, and tilted you head up so you could look into his dark eyes. "You were born of passion, not of politics - there is no better way to enter this world."

You swallowed hard, your heart nearly beating out of your chest. "Your words are kinder than what I'm used to, my prince. Thank you."

"Come to my chambers this night, my dear, and I will show you exactly how kind I can be," Oberyn boldly requested.

Your face and neck burned violently. "M-My prince, you honor me, but I must decline. My duty is to my lady - if I am not there when I'm needed..."

Oberyn smiled once again, his hand sliding down to grip your hand in his. "Do not let this city destroy you, Y/N Rivers. There are far too few beautiful things in this world."

He brought your hand to his lips, pressing a firm kiss to it. "It was my pleasure to make your acquaintance, my dear, but I fear I must make my leave."

"Enjoy your stay, my prince," your voice nearly failed you.

You weren't scared of death, per se, only of the unknown of what happens after this life.

If the seven hells were real you were sure you wouldn't go there. You weren't like your younger brother, Joffrey - he would surely burn for the crimes he'd committed, even at such a young age.

No, you believed you'd be welcomed into the seven heavens where your mother assured you your grandmother would be waiting to welcome you. You had wondered, in your delirious sleep, what Joanna Lannister looked like - she had to be beautiful for your grandfather to marry for love instead of politics.

It didn't matter, it wouldn't be long until you finally met.

A harsh coldness overtook your body, seeping down past your skin and laying to rest in your very bones. It seemed that no matter the amount of sunlight that streamed through the window by your bed, the heat of King's Landing could do nothing to warm your clammy skin. Your fingertips and lips had begun to turn blue, and your shivering hadn't ceased for two nights.

"Are you in pain, my flower? I can call for the maester to bring you milk of the poppy." Your mother's hand brushed your cheek. "I do not wish for you to hurt."

You blinked slowly, feeling so very tired. "No, mother. I do not feel pain. I only feel exhausted."

Cersei's lips quivered. "I know you're tired, my love. But if you could just hold on a just a little while longer - we have Archmaester Ebrose coming from the citadel. He may be able to cure you."

"I don't want to," you admitted.

Your broken whisper finally broke the dam that had built in your mother's eyes. She flung herself onto the cot you lay on. Her heartbreaking cries echoed off the walls of your chambers. She laid her head down beside your entwined hands, her chest heaving with breaths that couldn't escape her fast enough, and finally she allowed herself to truly weep for her lost child.

This wasn't right, you thought as you watched the Lioness herself lay by your side and bawled. Your mother was strong, she was Queen of the Seven Kingdoms - she wasn't this whimpering woman that lay before you now. Shame burrowed itself deep in your chest, the guilt for reducing your mother to this sobbing heap clawing at your insides like a rabid animal.

You took a page from your mother's book and used what energy you had left to place your hand on the back of her head. You were too tired to stroke her hair like she had done for you, but you could still speak to her.

"It's alright now, Mother," you whispered gently, a single tear escaped your eye and you made no move to wipe it away. "We've had a good life together, me and you. Please, tell my brothers and sister that I love them so very much. Will you do that for me?"

Cersei's raised her head and your hand fell limply back onto the cot beside you. "Of course I will, flower. And you know that they love you too."

"Of course I do," you replied softly. "And Uncle Jaime," your eyes felt so heavy. "Tell him I'm glad he's my father. Tell him I'm glad I wasn't the product of a bitter old drunk."

"My firstborn," Cersei whimpered, standing over your bed. She pressed her forehead softly to your own, her tears falling from her cheeks and onto your face. "Always too smart for her own good."

Their oldest child went that night as the sun turned to the moon. Cersei had sat with her child as the Archmaester searched her over, saying nothing as he left the room, no doubt going to speak with Jaime who stood just outside Y/N's chamber doors. She could hear their muffled voices through the door, but paid them no mind, instead she sat and stared at Y/N's beautiful face for as long as she could. She never wanted to forget a single feature.

The door opened behind her, but Cersei made no move to turn. She knew it was her brother who'd entered the room.

Behind her Jaime stood as still as a statue, breathing through the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. It felt like the breath had been knocked from his lungs when he saw his daughter's lifeless body that cot. He licked his bottom lip and stepped forward slowly, watching his sister rub the girl's cold arm unconsciously.

"She's gone," Cersei whispered, her eyes never leaving her dead child. "My poor little flower is gone."

"Our little girl," he said sadly as he finally stood by Cersei's side. "Our princess."

Cersei, having long since cried the final tears her eyes would allow, bowed her head. "What has the Archmaester said?"

"Natural causes," Jaime said as he bowed by his daughter's bedside.

Cersei snorted angrily. "Natural causes? She's a child, Jaime. No child dies of natural causes."

Jaime's hand had found the back of Y/N's hand and he flinched from how cold she'd gone in just a few hours. "What else could it have been, my love? She's watched after day and night. She is loved by the common people, she-"

"She was loved by all but one," Cersei said dangerously low. "There was one person who had told me many times they wish she'd never been born."

Jaime's brow furrowed. He lifted his gaze from his daughter and onto his lover. "Are you implying what I think you are?"

"Joffrey wants a throne," Cersei whispered. "He desires it more than anything. You know that as well as I. Y/N was in the way, and now she's gone."

Jaime's spine felt like lead. It was plausible. The boy was more sadistic than most he'd met, save the Mad King. "What do you propose we do?"

You watched as King Robert shook Robb's hand - he looked the part of Lord of Winterfell with his strong arms and piercing gaze, but you knew that his mind was his best weapon. Over the crowd of people Robb caught your eye and a large, boyish smile overtook his face. He winked at you, his blue eyes shining with mirth. You thought your hair might spark fire if it touched your face, but you smiled at him anyway, then ducked your head and went into the stables. You got to work at once, brushing and feeding and exercising the horses with your gentle care.

Once you finished with House Stark's steeds you sat on a bale of hay to rest for a moment. You closed your eyes and leaned against the wooden beam behind you, listening to the horses eat and play.

"Y/N," Robb greeted, dressed handsomely in his dark furs. "Are you well today?"

"I am, thank you, my lord." You looked him over, blushing. "And you?"

Robb grinned up at you. "I am much better now that I'm with you."

You felt your stomach flip and held in the giggle that threatened to pass your lips - you'd never felt like more of a love-struck maiden in all your life. "You are too kind, my lord."

"Now, what I have I told you about -"

Just then the swooping sound of rustling fabric and the clinking of armor cut you off. You both turned to see the source of the interruption - one of the golden haired bastards standing in the doorway of the stables. The prince's hair was cropped short and his eyes bore straight through you. His thin lips twisted into a frown and he stepped forward. Behind him was a large man, scarred and angry looking. You remembered him sitting atop a large, black courser in the courtyard - it was The Hound.

"If I caught my stable boy sitting upon his arse instead of doing his duties I'd have him whipped through the streets," the you prince seethed, pointing at you. "And you! How dare you not bow in the presence of your prince, wench?"

Your eyes widened and you quickly knelt, your head bowed. You'd heard of his wrath and did not want to face it yourself. "My apologies, Prince Joffery."

The boy spat on the ground beside you, his hands on his hips. "I do not need your apologies, stable girl. Lord Robb, should I have my father made aware of her insolence? I could have her punished."

Robb glared at the Prince, his blue eyes caught fire. "There is no need for that, my Prince," his words were poison. "She is a friend, and she has finished her duties as you can well see. I have only come to invite her to the feast as my honored guest."

Your head shot up, but you remained knelt on the ground. "My lord.."

"Y/N, if you will do me the honor?"

Joffery snarled. "You could have your pick of any woman in this frozen wasteland and you pick her? The cheapest whores in King's Landing look better."

"Then have yourself one of your whores, Prince Joffery," Robb barked. "And I will have Y/N."

Joffery said nothing, he simply turned on his heel and stalked out of the stables, his face a horrible, blotchy red. The large man stood there for a moment, his eyes raking over you both before he, too, turned to leave.

"You will cause such trouble for me?" You asked quietly. "The Prince won't take kindly to your suggestions."

"I go to war for you." Robb said gently, and held out his hand for you to take. You grasped it and he raised you from the ground. You stood straight and he kept your hand still clutched tightly in his. "I meant what I said, Y/N. If you'll have me."

You swallowed tightly and your heart beat wildly against your chest. "Why me?"

"Because you are the most beautiful thing I've seen in all my years. Because you are the most gentle person I've ever met," Robb began to list his reasons. "And because you make me happier than all the glory and gold in the world could. I would like nothing more for you to be by my side as the Lady of Winterfell when it falls to me."

Tears filled your eyes, but you smiled all the same. "You honor me, my lord."

Robb's grip tightened on your hand. "Say you will."

"B-But," You began to protest, but Robb cut you off by closing the space between you. He bent down slightly, pressing his lips to yours and for a moment you thought you might explode. His kiss was as soft and warm as you had imagined. His hands were gently running up and down the length of your back, pulling you even closer against him. As quickly as it had happened, the kiss was over.

Robb cupped your face in his large hands, his eyes boring into your own. "I will make you the happiest woman in all of Westeros, Y/N. I swear it."

Jaime sighed and shook his head, his green eyes on yours. "They won't. The Stark girls are still in King's Landing, we will be traded for them. Do not worry yourself, little sister."

"I will not be bargained for." You wanted your brother to grab your hands like he always did when you were upset, but it was a fruitless thought. He was tied tighter to the post than you were. "I am worth nothing - I'm a bastard! Father will let me die while you live. I will be starved and raped and beaten-"

"Y/N, look at me! I won't let them have you, alright? Robb Stark hasn't arrived yet. He likely doesn't know you're here. If he's anything like his father he'll have more honor than he does brains - he won't let a woman sit in filth and starve. I'll give myself for you if I must. Do not worry."

"No!" You begged him. "If I don't die here and you give yourself up I will be hanged in King's Landing. If not by Father's hand then Cersei will have me killed. You can't, Jaime, please!"

"It will not come to that," Jaime promised in a quick whisper. "Don't draw any unneeded attention."

You nodded and closed your eyes, and tried to calm yourself like Tyrion had taught you when you were kids - deep breaths in through the nose, and out through the mouth. You repeated this like a prayer, and it wasn't long before you felt yourself falling into a dark, dreamless sleep.

Robb's gait began to slow when he saw the cage, a cold fury burned within him. He was so close the man who'd had his father captured and ultimately killed that his hand itched to grab the sword at his waist. Would he kill him, Robb wondered, if he opened his mouth to taunt him? He would feel like it, but he had more restraint than that. He had to have restraint if he were to get his sisters home.

Grey Wind growled darkly beside him, the fur raising on the back of his neck.

"Shh, boy," Robb said quietly, his hand on the great beast's back. "We've got him now."

Robb could hear something that sounded like crying. He furrowed his brow, a small smile coming to his lips.

Was the Kingslayer weeping like a bloody woman? The boy that still lived inside Robb wished to gather everyone in camp to let them see, but the man inside that stepped up when his father died kept him walking forward.

But no, Robb thought when he stopped in front of the muddy cage, that couldn't be right. It wasn't a man's cry that he was hearing. It sounded feminine. Broken.

In the moonlight he could then see that the Kingslayer wasn't the only person tied up inside the cage. Much to Robb's disappointment, Jaime Lannister wasn't the one crying. Attached to a post beside the man was a woman, smaller than the Kingslayer, and much more haggard. Her head was hung down to her chest, and Robb could see her shoulders shaking.

"Who are you?" Robb asked, his voice still that of a King, when he got close enough for the woman to hear.

She jumped, but looked up through her matted hair, her bloodshot eyes reaching his. The trail her tears had tracked shone in the light of the moon, and somewhere in his chest Robb's heart broke a bit for her. Robb thought that if it were under different circumstances, and after she'd had a bath or two, he might have found the woman attractive.

"Y/N Hill," the girl answered quietly, her raspy voice broken. His fingers nearly went for his canteen of water on his belt, but decided against it - too many people would see. He didn't think people would follow a king who so easily gave in to his prisoner's needs. He steeled himself with a deep breath and stood straighter, looking deep into her eyes.

"And what are you doing locked up in there with Jaime Lannister?" Robb asked hotly.

The girl breathed through her tears. "I would assume it's because I'm his sister."

"You're Tywin's bastard?" Robb asked quietly.

"Yes, Stark," came her brother's voice beside her. Robb watched the girl jump, clearly thinking he was asleep. The Kingslayer motioned to his sister with his head. "Is this how the Northmen treat women, then? Tie her up and leave her to rot without a proper trial? She had nothing to do with your father's execution. She was merely in the wrong place at the wrong time, this time and last."

Grey Wind growled threateningly at the Lannister, but Robb ordered him to sit. The great direwolf did as commanded, but never took his eyes off Jaime Lannister.

"You have some guts talking back to a King in you position, Kingslayer," Robb sneered. "But you're right. I don't treat women this way." Robb turned to the girl in ropes beside him, "I'll have the guards untie you. You will stay inside a tent, and no harm will come to you. I've will send word to your father that you are here and safe. We will trade you for my sisters when the time comes."

Robb turned on his heel and walked away, barking orders at one of the guards to cut the girl loose.

After you were sent to a tent, one very close to the King's own, you were allowed a bath and a change of clothes. The Northmen had no dresses or any of the pretty clothes you were used to, you were simply given a tunic and a pair of trousers much too large for you, not that you minded - you felt better knowing that you didn't smell of your own waste anymore.

It had been many weeks since you'd been taken out of your cage, and you were still terrified. You'd heard what happened to women who were taken as prisoners - they were raped, beaten within an inch of their lives. Some got away with the promise of gold or some sort of wealth in return, or because of their House's prominence.

You had no name to lean on. You were a Hill of Casterly Rock, conveniently born to a Lannister father.

You were going to die in a camp with the enemy, you thought, your mind racing in the dark. You felt your breath seize in your chest and your eyes began to water just like every night before. You didn't want to die here! You were still so young, you wanted to travel the Seven Kingdoms, you wanted-

"Shh, shh, shh." A voice quieted you. You felt a hand on your shoulder, and you backed away as quickly as you could. "I'm not going to hurt you. You're alright."

"P-Please," you begged sadly. "Don't."

A lantern was lit and you watched as Robb Stark's face was illuminated by the light of the fire. It was the first night he'd come into his tent by himself, and it scared you more than you were willing to admit. You'd had conversations with the King in the North. He'd even allowed you to speak to your brother on occasion.

"You're alright," Robb promised again, his blue eyes watching you sadly. "I won't hurt you, you have my word."

You nodded your head and bit your lip to keep it from quivering. For some reason, whether it was his kind eyes or sincere smile, you truly believed the King in the North. "Thank you."

"I'm sorry for what's happened," Robb started, easing toward you to show you he meant no harm. He sat at the edge of your cot, watching you carefully. "You weren't at Winterfell when the rest of your family came?"

You shook your head. "No. Cersei and my father thought it would be disrespectful for me to come."

"Where were you when my father was murdered?" Robb asked again, the hint of a fire in his eyes. "Did you try to stop it?"

"I was there. Everyone was there," you admitted, your words thick in your throat. "My nephew is a gruesome boy. Nothing I could have said would've changed what happened, my lord. He would have had me beaten, and then my head would have been on a pike along with your fathers had I uttered a word."

Robb nodded slowly, taking in your words. "My mother and I have spoken. We've come to the agreement that if your father doesn't return the girls to us alive and healthy we are going to kill the Kingslayer."

Your hand shot up to your mouth to muffle your cries. "P-Please-"

"No harm will come to you," Robb promised again. "I have made that clear to my men as well as my mother. Should we kill your brother you will be sent to Winterfell. You will stay there under my protection, not as a prisoner, but as a guest of the King in the North."

"You don't understand," you begged him still, "if you kill Jaime then my father will kill me! He will send forces to Winterfell just for revenge on his son's death. If I do not beg for his life then mine will end. Jaime will carry on the Lannister name, my father will release him of his Kingsguard duty and have him married off. I have nothing to offer my family."

Robb watched you come apart before his eyes and wondered sadly if you'd ever been given a choice on anything. Against his better judgment, he went with what his heart told him to do, and grabbed your hand in his own. "I won't let that happen."

"Why do you care about what happens to a prisoner of war? Your prisoner?"

Robb offered a small smile. "It doesn't happen often."

"I don't expect my father to write you back on my behalf," you told him suddenly, your hand unconsciously tightening around his larger one. "If my father agrees to trade your sisters for my brother then I will go to Winterfell. I will serve you as you see fit, but please let my brother live."

Robb's eyes were downcast. "He killed my father. He and your sister would see the rest of my family slaughtered if it please them. I can make no promises, Y/N, other than the one to keep you safe. Like you said earlier, it's not very often that a King spares his prisoners of war. It seems you've began to melt this icy heart of mine."

You felt his thumb run over the back of your hand softly. "My King, are you falling for the enemy?"

"I fear I could be," Robb admitted quietly. "Would I be mad to think it could be returned?"

Your heartbeat sped up slightly, but you answered him anyway. "I know not."

"When the war is over, we could marry. Give you a proper last name and a proper title." Robb told you with a wolf's smile. "You could be a Queen, Y/N. Better than your sister or your nephew or anyone else that befalls the Iron Throne."

"My King," you whispered in disbelief, "is this truly your desire? To marry a bastard you hardly know?"

Robb chuckled. "My mother and father did not know each other when they were wed, and they grew to love one another fiercely. We could do the same, maybe even know more than the love they shared. I could give you anything your heart desired, Y/N."

"If I agree," you whispered, still shocked at his admission, "you could not kill your future brother by marriage. You would be called kinslayer."

"And your family if they slay my sisters."

Your eyes lit up, and for the first time since you'd been captured you truly felt hope. "My King, marry me now."

"What?" Robb's eyes were wide, but his smile was even more so. "You've come to terms with the proposal rather quickly."

You nodded quickly. "Yes! We will wed now, and I will write my father. I will be Queen in the North! He will not attack his own daughter, bastard or not. I will demand he send your sisters home as I send Jaime back to King's Landing. Your sisters returned will by my dowry, and Jaime will go to send the happy news."

Robb sat there silently, his eyes boring into yours. "Aye. We will marry with the sunrise. We will send a raven after the ceremony."

"You are a good King," you told him quietly. "You have just saved thousands of lives."

"Our marriage will save my sisters," Robb smiled. "It will save your brother. Most of all it will make me a happy man."

Jon wanted to, he truly did, but what kind of life could he give you away from the security of Winterfell? He was a good swordsman, he knew, but if he left his home for another he'd just be another man looking for work. A bastard isn't given a choice.

"I'm sorry," Jon said again, this time with finality. His chest was heaving and his eyes hard. "I'm sorry, Y/N."

Tears finally sprang from your eyes and a harsh sob tore from your throat. "Don't you know I love you?" You'd asked him through your tears.

"Of course I know," Jon whispered, bringing his hand to your cheek. "And I you."

You shook your head. "Then why are you leaving me?"

"I must do this, Y/N."

Your sorrow was rapidly being replaced by betrayal and anger. You shoved his hand away from your face with a sneer. Why did everyone you love go away? 

"Then go, join your Night's Watch. Leave your family and leave me." You turned on your heel to leave, unable to look upon his face any longer.

"Y/N," Jon groaned. "Don't leave us like this-"

You stopped, but never turned. "There could've been an us, but there is no longer."

Jon watched you weave through the crowd that had gathered, some looking and others going about their normal routines. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned his head slightly to see his Uncle watching him with a saddened expression.

"She'll find love, my boy, do not fret. The hardest part is over, we must leave now."

Jon nodded, but stood in place for a few moments longer. "Goodbye, my love."

You sat in a small room, watching the snow fall from the grey skies. You were scared, you’d been scared for as long as you could remember. It was only a matter of time before you, like so many before you, met the wrath of Ramsay Bolton.

Behind you, the door opened. Sansa grabbed onto you, her blue eyes boring into yours. "Come, Y/N, we're leaving."

Your mind began to race. No, no, you couldn't leave. Ramsay's dogs - they'd find you. They'd kill you.

"We can't - we can't," you wheezed. "He'll find us, Sansa. The hounds."

Sansa stood straighter. "If I am to die, then I will die while there is still some of me left. I will not die in my own home as a shell of who I once was." She grabbed your hand and held it tight. "I grew up with you. As a girl you were strong, stronger than I ever hoped to be, and look at you now. Ramsay's hurt you, used you. But he has not broken you. Come with me and we will have a chance to begin anew. We may live, but if we stay here, Y/N, we are sure to die."

You stared at her with tears in your eyes. "I can't. I can't. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Sansa looked at you without emotion and said nothing more. She simply left and you let her.

Later that night when Ramsay had returned he was angry. He was so very angry, but he knew better than to have you killed at once.

"They will come for you," he chuckled, his icy eyes dancing. "Oh yes, they will come for you and then I will have them both. Come, darling, and write your bastard a letter."

Jon looked at his sister with confusion. "You wish to go back there?"

"It's our home," Sansa said, shaking Ramsay's letter in her hand. "It will always be our home, and he's there with his flayed man banners. We must take it back."

"I'm tired of fighting, Sansa," Jon said quietly. He looked down onto the scarred table. "I've fought all these years, and I'm tired."

Sansa shook her head lightly. "I will reclaim our home with or without you. I will rescue Rickon and Y/N."

Jon's shoulders sagged upon hearing her name. "Has he harmed her?"

"He harmed us all." Sansa's voice was thick, but her eyes never strayed from the letter. "And he will kill her if we do nothing."

Jon sighed heavily and closed his eyes. He couldn't leave her there, his love. He'd left her once and regretted it every day since.

"We will fight."

The battle was long and bloody, and when you saw Ramsay ride back through the gates on his horse you feared the worst. Had Jon fallen? Had he died?

The guard that held you tightened his grip, but as painful as it was you couldn't tear your thoughts away from Jon.

"Hold her," Ramsay ordered quickly, rushing over to get his bow and arrows.

You were pushed down onto your knees in the snow and mud. The guard grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled tightly, his other hand producing a dagger and pressing it into the skin of your throat. The blade bit into your neck and you closed your eyes tightly.

"If you fight me you will die," he hissed into your ear.

There were a series of harsh thuds against the gates and you wondered what the outside forces were using to penetrate Winterfell's legendary defenses. You didn't have to ponder for long, however, because suddenly a large monster of a hand broke through. The archers fired it it's giant fist, but it's assault continued. It broke through the door like it was nothing more than than a splinter.

The large creature charged through the gate like a bull, it's great head down and it's shoulders clenched. It's breaths left like the winds of a storm. Arrows were stabbed into the large thing from every angle, and more continued to pelt it, but it was Ramsay that killed it with an arrow to the eye. It fell to the ground with a ground shaking thud.

Your eyes searched the men that ran into the gates, and it was then you saw him. Bloody and heaving and weary from battle. He'd grown different in the time he'd been gone, but you'd know him anywhere.

"You did suggest one on one combat." You heard from in front of you. Ramsay stood with his arms out, challenging Jon. "I think that sounds like a wonderful idea."

Jon looked around at Ramsay's forces and, when he got to you, he stalled. He barred his teeth and glared at Ramsay with a look of pure rage. He rushed forward and grabbed a Bolton shield, holding it before him. Ramsay fired arrow after arrow, and Jon simply continued toward him. Once he was in reach of Ramsay he knocked the bow from his hands and delivered a sharp blow to his chest with the tip of the shield.

A gurgle came from behind you and you felt the weight of the man with the dagger to your throat sag against your back. A hand quickly pushed him away and grabbed you, pushing you behind him - a wildling, you could tell by his garb, with wild red hair and a beard to match. You held onto his arm tightly, the stress and fear weighing you down instantly.

"Hold onto me, girl," the man said, his speech slightly broken. He nodded in front of them. "It'll all be over soon."

You opened your mouth to tell him you felt faint, but no words left you. The last thing you remember a voice behind you telling someone to catch you.

Jon sat by your bedside solemnly, his eyes looking over you. He'd requested that you be taken to his room, and that you be cleaned and checked for every possible injury.

The bruises that were left on you sickened him, and he wished that he could relive the end of the battle once more, this time granting Bolton no mercy. He sighed and took your hand in his. He thought back on the time he'd taken you down to the small opening in the Godswood and kissed you for the first time, how small your hand felt in his on the walk back to the castle.

He had never as happy as he had on that day, the way you looked at him - as if he were something more than a bastard.

"At least you still look better than everyone else while you brood."The statement shocked Jon out of his memories.

The corner of his lips twitched, but he never smiled. He rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand as gently as he could. "It's good to see you, Y/N."

You clicked your tongue and shook your head. "I thought I'd never see you again, Jon Snow, and yet here you are to save me again."

"I'd save you a thousand times over," Jon whispered lightly. "How d'you feel?"

You were quiet for a few moments, your eyes searching his. You'd missed his dark brown eyes, it seemed like everyone else's were dulled in comparison. "I missed you. I missed you so much."

Jon hung his head. "I should have stayed. If I could go back I would stay and we would have gone wherever you wanted to."

You sighed. "There is no good in the choices that should have happened. We can only go forward from here."

"And where do you wish to go?" Jon asked quietly. "Do you wish to stay here? In a place where so many horrible things have happened to you?"

Your throat felt tight, and you did your best to swallow down the emotion that overwhelmed you. "I wish to stay with you."

Jon's eyes softened. "Then we will stay here. We will stay and rebuild and have the life you always wanted."

"I still love you, Jon." You admitted quietly. "I don't think I ever stopped."

Jon smiled. "And I never stopped loving you, Y/N. I don't think I could."

"Here we are, at the edge of the world, and it's almost as if we've gone back in time, isn't it?" You whispered. "Only now you're much more than a bastard. You're Lord of Winterfell now, Jon Snow, and all the realm is better for it."

"Lord of Winterfell," Jon breathed. "The Lord must have a Lady, Y/N."

"Sansa will be -"

Jon cut you off quickly. "Will you be my Lady?"

Your breath caught in your throat, but you nodded, tears shining in your eyes. "I've always been your lady, Jon Snow."