#jon snow reader insert

Summary: Jon Snow comes to the reader asking for her to pledge her allegiance before the forthcoming Battle of the Bastards.

A/N: I’ve suddenly got a whole bunch of GOT ideas so look forward to some of those stories coming soon

“Lady (Y/L/N),” Jon Snow greeted as he walked up to the table that you and your advisors were seated at.

“We can skip the pleasantries, you’ve come to ask for my allegiance, haven’t you,” You stated as you stared coldly at him.

A mild expression of surprise graced the man’s features before you continued, “You’ve been making the rounds to every house in the north who hasn’t sided with the Greyjoys, or the Freys, or the Boltons, or whoever else as claimed what was once your family’s, it’s only natural that eventually, your advisors would send you here.”

“M’lady, your house is one of the most respected houses in the north. I’ve come here to humbly ask for your allegiance as I plan to reclaim my family’s home from a traitor and murderer,” Jon tells you.

You lean back in your chair slightly as you study the man in front of you, “You are not the first man who has come to me in hopes of exploiting my supposed naivete,” You tell him, “I admire you for coming here, solely relying on hopes of my good fortune, but I’m afraid I must disappoint you.”

“M’lady-”

“My family's reputation is well known, we have survived this long because we do not concern ourselves with the petty squabbles of boys who think they are men. I cannot dishonor my family’s legacy to help you fight a war that I have no stake in,” You tell him, cutting him off.

“Have you considered that perhaps you do have a stake in this fight?” Jon asks you after a beat.

You look up at him, both surprised and intrigued as to what kind of argument he will make, “Excuse me?”

Jon clears his throat before taking a step towards you, “You’re right, you’re one of the most revered houses in the north, but what does it say of you and your family’s legacy that you are willing to sit idly by while Ramsay Bolton takes over the north? What will they say of the fact that you refused to choose a side?”

“Are you insinuating that my stance is one of indifference and that I’m enabling that monster?” You ask him clearly taken aback by his accusation.

“With all due respect m’lady, I am,” Jon replies.

You stared him down for a moment before nodding your head slowly, “I will take your arguments into consideration, now, if I were to pledge my allegiance to you for your fight to reclaim the North for your family, what sort of support would you ask for?” You ask him matter-of-factly.

“If you were to- we would accept any assistance you would be willing to offer m’lady,” Jon replies, surprised by your sudden change of tone, “Troops, supplies, anything.”

“I will have an answer to your request tomorrow morning after I think everything over, until then you all must come, eat and rest, I offer to you and your men any and all hospitalities at my disposable,” You tell him with a nod.

“Thank you, M’lady,” Jon says as he bows his head slightly to you.

You move to stand up and bow your head towards him in return, “I hope you won’t think me rude, but I do have other matters to attend to, I will see you tomorrow, Jon Snow.”

And with that you walked out of the room, some of your advisors following you, leaving Jon standing in the middle of the hall trying to figure out what just happened.

Jon hadn’t meant to go snooping. But he had wanted to explore the castle and was clearly surprised when he stumbled into what he assumed what an unused hall until he saw you sitting next to the fire, wrapped in a cloak and pouring over what seemed to be a large pile of papers. He couldn’t help but watch you work.

“Can I help you with something, Jon Snow?” You asked as you suddenly looked over in his direction.

“My apologies if I’m intruding m’lady, I seem to have gotten a little turned around,” Jon apologizes quickly, clearly embarrassed to have been caught.

“I can walk you back to the guest quarters,” You tell him as you start to stand up.

“There’s no need,” Jon says quickly as he steps toward you, urging you to stay where you are, “May I ask what you’re doing?” He asks as he walks over to where you’re sitting.

“What am I not doing?” You shoot back sarcastically as you chuckle slightly to yourself, “I’m trying to read through some of our houses past alliances, as well as working through the finances of our house, my father may have been a good man, but he certainly wasn’t gifted when it comes to managing our funds.”

Jon glances over the papers fanned out around you, “Do you not have advisors who can do those tasks for you?”

“Of course, but frankly, they’re the same men who let my father fall down this hole in the first place, I wouldn’t trust them with this, would you?” You ask him before sighing softly, “I need to take care of my people.”

“You really care about all of this, don’t you?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I. I need to work ten times harder than any lord just to get half of the respect. But I will do it because it’s what’s best for my house.”

“I can tell.” He replies, “I kind of feel like leading men into battle is the same. When you are with all of those men, men who’ve pledged their lives to you, there’s a level of responsibility for them. Those who die...they die for you.”

“You are a great leader, Jon Snow, you know that right?” You ask him softly.

Jon bristles at the compliment, “I don’t know about-”

You cut him off before he can talk his way around it, “Truly, you’re more of a man than most of the lords in the north could ever hope to be.” You tell him before pausing for a moment to think about what you’re going to say next, “I will pledge my allegiance to you tomorrow morning and give you as many men as we can spare.”

“You-”

“I mean it. Your family, you stand for all that is good in the North. Your leadership is essential if the North wishes to survive all that is to come.” You tell him, “I want to be a part of that.”

“Thank you, thank you so much Lady (Y/N),” Jon says, and you can tell he’s truly thankful.

“Just (Y/N) is fine, really,” You tell him with a small smile.

Reflection - Jon Snow chapter fic

When your house is invaded and your father and your grandfather are killed, and you’re left alone. With your brother missing, you’re left alone. Knowing the world is not safe for a woman, you decide your best option is hide in plain sight. But making your way north dressed as a man isn’t easy, espeically not when you’re thrown in a dungeon for stealing bread and sent to castle black.

To @janeschwartz1 and @msclifford, here’s the second part to New Friends! I hope you like it!

Description: The letters you share with Jon are slowly getting more familiar until you are forced to stop. Years pass with nothing, and Jon is starting to lose hope, until finally a new letter arrives.

To Jon Snow,

I have finally arrived at King’s Landing. The journey was uneventful for the most part. I am sure you must have heard about what happened to Sansa’s direwolf. I truly wish it didn’t have to happen, but my mother is not one to let such things go easily.

I know my uncle, Tyrion, traveled north with you, saying something about seeing the edge of the world. I understand he can be a bit trying at times, but he truly is a kind person. Please be patient with him. How is your new life in the Night’s Watch? Please write soon, it’s awfully boring in King’s Landing.

Signed,

(Y/N) Baratheon

—

Jon thought for a moment, quill in hand as he stared at the piece of parchment before him. He had to remember what he was taught. He must use his manners, even if it felt like he was talking to an old friend.

—

To the crown princess (Y/N) Baratheon,

The Night’s Watch wasn’t what I was expecting. In truth, your uncle was the only one to tell me what it really was. The men here have no honor. They hate me simply because I am better than them.

You uncle seems to be enjoying his stay. He sits with the Lord Commander at dinners and is given plenty of furs to keep warm, though he is always saying how cold it is. Are my sisters alright? Arya has some trouble with being a lady, and I’m worried about how she will fare in the South.

Signed,

Jon Snow

-

To Jon Snow,

Sansa has taken quite well to life in the south. She acts almost as if she were born to be here. Arya sometimes has trouble with her duties as a Lady, but she raves about her new dancing instructor. She’s asked me to tell you she is even more skilled with her needle than Sansa is with her own. Hopefully, you can make more sense of that than I.

Please remember that, while it may not seem so, you grew up with far more luxury than many of the boys you are living with. Perhaps try to help them, and they will begin to see things your way.

Your father is to have a tournament in his honor soon. The entire city is talking about it. My uncle, Jaime, is favored to win, but I’ve heard whispers of a new knight named Ser Loras Tyrell. What do you think will happen?

Signed,

(Y/N) Baratheon

P.S. I’ve already told you, I’m not very inclined to my title. Please just call my (F/N).

—

Jon smiled. Of course you would yell at him. He could just imagine you scoffing to yourself as your read his first sentence, rolling your eyes and reaching for your quill in defiance. He frowned to himself. He wanted to impress you somehow, but with what?

“Jon, hand me one of those pieces of parchment,” Sam called. Jon smiled. That was perfect.

—

To (Y/N) Baratheon,

You were right. The men in here with had never even picked up a sword. Once I started to help them learn a bit more, they started talking with me. A new man has arrived just recently. His name is Samwell Tarly. A man named Rast was told to attack him, but I stopped it. Ser Allister Thorne, the man training me, is very angry at me. Rast wanted to keep hurting Sam, but we made things very clear with the help of Ghost. No one will be attacking him any time soon. That made Thorne even more angry, but I’m hoping it’ll pass.

Please tell Arya that no matter what her dancing instructor told her, I’m the one who taught her the first rule of how to use her Needle. I have heard the rumors you speak of, but I doubt anyone could unhorse the Kingslayer in his own city. Do tell me how the tournament went. If I know my father, he’s working himself too hard as the King’s Hand. If he is, please tell him to take a break. How is your family? Is Joffrey treating Sansa well?

Signed,

Jon Snow

-

To Jon,

I’m so sorry. You must know by now that my uncle has been taken prisoner by the Lady Stark. She claims he had something to do with your poor brother’s predicament. When my uncle Jaime confronted your father with the news, Lord Stark took credit for everything. My uncle was outraged, and they got into a fight. One of the guards stabbed your father’s leg with a spear and they left him there. He is alive, and the Maester has hope, but he looks awful.

Please, if you hold any sway with Lady Stark, ask her to release my uncle. Tyrion loves children, and he likes Bran. I know he would never hurt him.

Yours truly,

(Y/N) Baratheon

—

Jon inhaled sharply. He had no doubt what you were saying was true, and he’d met Tyrion before. He wished he could help you, but Catelyn hated him with every fiber of her being. She would never listen to what he had to say, whether it was true or not. Still, he was determined to offer you some comfort.

—

To (Y/N) Baratheon,

I’m sorry, but I hold no favor with Lady Catelyn. She would never do something simply because I asked it of her, and I fear she might even react violently to any suggestion. But fear not. Lady Catelyn is rather vindictive, but she is not stupid. She understands that killing Tyrion could be very dangerous for her family.

I have some good news, bad news, and disappointing news. My uncle’s horse arrived alone at the gates recently. I’m worried he might have died beyond the wall. I am an official man of the Night’s Watch now, but I’ve been appointed the steward of the Lord Commander, Jeor Mormont. Sam says he’s grooming me, but I’d still rather be a ranger, like my uncle. Please give me some advice. Your council is always comforting and wise.

Yours truly,

Jon Snow

-

To Jon Snow of the Night’s Watch,

I regret to inform you that I am no longer to write to you. Your father and half-brother are traitors to the crown and my beloved brother, King Joffrey Baratheon, first of his name. Your sister has declared her loyalty to her betrothed, and is thus the only loyal Stark left. Arya has escaped fled the Keep, your father has declared complete blasphemy, claiming my brother is not the true heir to the throne, and your brother now marches towards the capital. I’m sorry, Jon. Good luck on the Wall.

Love Signed,

(Y/N) Baratheon, first of her name, crown Princess of Westeros.

—

Jon frowned and reread the letter. It didn’t sound like you. It sounded too forced. You’d never used your title before.

He knew he should be concerned with the content of the letter. The thought of his father in the dungeons and his brother marching on the south terrified him, but the idea that you might be in trouble almost made him sick to his stomach.

Quickly he’d made up his mind. He saddled his horse and fled Castle Black. He didn’t get very far before Sam, Pip, and Grenn stopped him.

“Jon, you can’t leave. You’ll be killed as a deserter!” Sam said.

“It’s my family, Sam,” Jon lied. He knew in his heart that he was riding to King’s Landing. He needed to make sure you were safe. “I can’t just ignore what’s happening.”

“We’re your family now,” Sam insisted. “We’re your brothers.”

“I’m not going back, Sam,” Jon warned. He started to move again.

“Night gathers, and so my watch begins!” Pip moved forward to cut him off again. “It shall not end until my death. I shall live and die by my post.”

Grenn quickly picked up the oath. “I am the sword in the darkness.”

“The watcher on the Wall,” Sam continued.

Then, all three spoke at once, repeating the oath they had memorized like the back of their hands. “I am the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night’s Watch, for this night and all the nights to come.”

Jon grit his teeth together. He knew what you would say. You’d say he made a commitment and he had to honor it. Sam handed him Longclaw, meeting his eyes and almost begging him not to go. Jon nodded slightly and went with his brothers back to Castle Black.

(Suuuuuper long time skip)

Years passed, and it never got any easier for Jon. Thoughts of you plagued him day and night. He’d received letters speaking of your betrayal of the royal family. According to Cersei’s propaganda, you helped to aid the fugitive, Sansa, after she killed your brother. It was a slight comfort to him that you were with his sister, but he would still rather have you here, in his arms.

Then the letter arrived.

-

Dearest Jon,

It has been far too long since we last exchanged letters, and for that I am truly sorry. I was forbidden from sending anything to you, and all of my ravens were monitored on a constant basis. Now, I am asking for your help.

Your sister, Sansa, has become a dear friend of mine, and I fear she is in far greater danger than she realizes. I do not trust the man she is with any more than I would trust a lion. Now she is to marry Ramsay Bolton, the bastard who was newly made a lord. I’ve heard rumors of Ramsay’s cruelty, and the fact that his father betrayed his honor and your family makes me even more wary of him. What I’m asking, Jon, is to know that, should we need it, we could be safe in Castle Black. I know I have no right to ask such things after all this time, but I need your help, now more than ever.

Forever yours,

(Y/N) Baratheon

—

Before he’d even had a chance to think, Jon had already picked up a Quill and piece of parchment.

—

Dear (Y/N),

You are always welcome in Castle Black, as well as my sister. I do not care how much time has passed, all that matters to me now is that you are safe. Be careful around Ramsay. I’ve heard similar things that you have, and he is not one to be taken lightly. I hope to see you soon.

Yours truly,

Jon Snow

-

Weeks passed without a reply, and Jon found himself constantly pacing back and forth, hoping for your arrival.

He was no longer obligated to stay on the Night’s Watch - he’d done his duty and given his life. He was finally free to tell you how he felt. If only you were here.

There was a commotion down in the square, men murmuring amongst themselves. Jon looked down to meet your eyes. You had grown a lot. You’d been beaten and worn and thrown around like you were nothing. Yet still, you had a fire in your eyes.

You were just as he pictured those many nights standing guard on the Wall. Your beautiful (H/C) hair cascading down in waves, those same pools of (E/C) gazing into his very core. Tears clouded your eyes, and Jon couldn’t take it anymore. He ran down into the middle of the square, taking you into his arms in a warm embrace. You were dirty and sweaty and a bit bloody, but he couldn’t imagine letting you go.

After a very long embrace, the two of you parted. Jon held your face gently in his hands, studying every detail like it was the last he’d ever see you.

“Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, eh?” You smiled weakly. “You’ve done quite well for yourself, haven’t you?”

Jon shook his head. “I no longer have any obligations or ties to the Night’s Watch. I’ve done my duty, and I’m free to leave.”

Fandom: Game of Thrones Prompt: Jon Snow x Reader where they are together and someone tries to hurt the Reader and Jon comes for the rescue? In the end they go to his Room together and fluffy/smutty ending? If you don't do smut it's okay. Word Count: 971 Character: Jon Snow Reader Gender: Female Warnings: fighting, other than that nothing really. Author note: I hope you enjoyed this. I chose to not do smut. But you have the fluffy ending.

Description: You’re the first daughter and second child of the royal family. When you visit Winterfell, you quickly find yourself making friends with the Starks and one Snow. Despite knowing you two could never be together, you’re quickly catching feelings for one another.

Maybe a part 2? I’m not sure yet...

It had taken far longer than you would have wished for, but you and your family were finally arriving at Winterfell. Your father had insisted that you stay in the carriage, but you hated the stuffy little room. You’d much rather ride your own horse, like Joffrey did. But your father was king, and his word is final. So, you resigned yourself to staring out the small window of the carriage, your younger brother leaning into your side as he slept.

Finally, after weeks of constant travel with small breaks in between for your father to hunt and drink, you saw the walls of Winterfell approaching. You could hardly contain your excitement. Ever since you were a little girl, you’d heard stories of the honorable Ned Stark, and the icy chill in which he resided. You’d dreamed of seeing the northern snow for years.

The second the carriage came to a stop, you jumped out and took a deep breath of the cold, fresh air, a large grin stretched across your face.

Behind you, you could hear your mother, sister, and newly awoken brother stepping from the carriage as well. Your mother placed a gentle but strict hand on your shoulder and leaned down to whisper, “Behave yourself. You may be excited, but try to act like a lady while we’re here.”

You nodded slightly, sending a quick, “Yes, mother,” like the good little girl you’d always been taught to be. Your mother loved you, of that much you were sure, but you sometimes felt as though you could never please her.

You followed your mother and father, taking your place between your elder brother and your younger sister. You watched as your father greeted all of the Stark children and immediately asking to see the crypts. After he’d left, ignoring your mother’s protests, she was left to introduce her own children.

“My eldest, Joffrey.” Joffrey held an air of overconfidence to him. He’d always been rather cruel, though he’d been slightly partial to you, even if he’d never admit it. “My eldest daughter, (Y/N).” You quickly dropped into the curtsy that you’d been forced to perfect, sending a kind smile to your hosts. “My younger daughter, Myrcella.” Your sister’s grip on your hand tightened, so you gave it a quick squeeze of reassurance. “And my youngest, Tommen.” You glanced at your younger brother as he bowed to the Starks in greeting. You smiled slightly and quickly turned back to your hosts.

“Allow me to show you to your chambers,” Lady Stark said. As you were being led inside, you quickly peeled off from the group, instead making your way to the stables.

You grinned widely, running a hand across the nose of the large, dark mare before you. “Hello there, beautiful girl. I bet your itching to stretch you legs,” you spoke softly, continuing to gently pet the mare. You grabbed a saddle and heaved it over the back of the horse, fastening the straps. You had done this so many times by that point that you almost didn’t even have to think about it. You unlatched the gate and led her outside before quickly taking your place in the saddle and riding through the gates of Winterfell, sending a small prayer to the gods that the guards wouldn’t recognize you.

Gods, the wind felt wonderful on your face as you spurred the horse to run faster. The forest raced past you as you rode, the cold air burning through your lungs. It was freezing in the north, and even your warmest coats did almost nothing to keep the cold winds from cutting through you. You slowed the horse to a trot, panting slightly from the ride. You took this time to gaze more closely at the forest surrounding you. Tall, dark green trees surrounded you on all sides, a soft layer of white coating the branches.

The sound of hooves behind you pulled you from your daze. Your heart picked up slightly, and you gripped the dagger your father had given to you on your last name day. It was probably the sound of your guards coming to fetch you, but you’d heard stories of wildlings viciously attacking the northerners. You turned to face the sound, preparing to defend yourself against a wildling attack.

Instead, a boy not much older than you appeared from between the leaves. You quickly recognized him as the bastard of Winterfell. He pulled his horse up to you, eyeing you in slight suspicion. “You shouldn’t be out here,” he muttered.

You blinked slowly before quickly hiding the dagger in your skirts once more. “My apologies, my lord, I wanted to go for a ride and see this beautiful country is all,” you smiled at him, hoping to both ease his worry and keep him from telling anyone. Your mother would be furious if she found out you had left the castle without an escort.

The boy shook his head, thick curls shaking as he did. “I’m no lord. Now come on, before anyone notices you’ve gone.”

You grinned and grabbed his hand. “Thank you, ser. It’s very kind of you.” The boy nodded and took his hand back, turning away to hide his blush.

“Follow me, I’ll lead you back to the castle,” he muttered and flicked his reins. You nodded and followed behind him.

The journey was made in silence, not a word between you until you reached the gates of Winterfell. One of the gold cloaks moved to greet you. “Your grace, your mother has been looking for you. You know how she feels about you riding unescorted, especially in a strange land.”

You flinched at his words. Your mother would never let you out of her sight after this. “I offered the princess a tour of the north. She was escorted by me.” The boy’s words shocked you beyond belief. You hardly even knew him. In fact you didn’t even know his name. All you knew was that he was a bastard.

The guard’s jaw clenched. “And who are you to be escorting her, bastard?” The title was spat out with such hatred that it struck even you.

“My name is Jon Snow,” Jon growled back. “And I am a son of Lord Eddard Stark. I’ve been training to fight since I was old enough to hold a sword. She was safe.” You smiled and placed a gentle hand on Jon’s shoulder in reassurance.

“Your grace, your mother requested your presence as soon as you returned. You need to begin preparing for the feast,” the guard said. You nodded and slid from your mount, Jon following suit.

You smiled and curtsied to him. “Thank you for a wonderful tour, Jon. It was lovely meeting you,” you said kindly. Jon nodded stiffly and began taking both horses back to the stables. Your smile stayed with you as you were escorted back to your temporary room in Winterfell.

(Slight time skip)

You sat completely still as you hair was teased and pulled into an acceptable style for the feast tonight. You had already been stuffed into an unbelievable tight corset and extravagant gown, and you were beginning to grow impatient. You’d much rather talk with Jon than be subjected to a night of small talk and shoes that pinched your feet. Of course, such luxuries were not allowed to a princess of the seven kingdoms. At least you would have your hair styled in the northern manner.

A knock at the door caused you to smile, finally released from the woman’s unrelenting fingers. “That will be all, thank you,” you dismissed her. She nodded and curtsied, knowing better than to protest. You opened your door to see Robb Stark before you.

“Your grace, I’m here to escort you to the feast,” he said stiffly.

You smiled softly and nodded. “Of course. Thank you, my lord.”

“You can call me Robb,” he muttered, slightly unsure of himself.

You gently took his arm offered to you. “Thank you, Robb,” you corrected your previous statement.

Robb led you down the hall and into the feast hall without saying a word. Silence must run in the family. You took your place at the long table where all the children sat, turning to see your sister escorted by Brandon Stark and your brother escorting Arya Stark. Finally, little Rickon Stark clumsily made his way to the table, causing a slight smile to return to your face. Joffrey and Sansa had already entered before you, since Joff was the eldest. Once your uncles and the other high lords had entered, the feast began.

It was much more fun than you had thought it would be. The northerners talked loudly and festively, making you forget your obligations and simply focus on enjoying yourself. You were sat near Sansa, who simply refused to stop talking about Joff, when the piece of food hit her right in the face. Loud laughing echoed through the hall, and you glanced over to see Arya Stark holding a spoon and a mischievous grin.

Quickly, you rose from your seat and went to her before someone else could get there first and scold her for her actions.

You smiled as you grabbed her hand, sitting beside her. “You must be Arya Stark,” you said, trying to catch her eyes as she stared at the table. “You know, from what my father says, you look just like your Aunt Lyanna. Do you know what they called her?” Arya shook her head nervously. “They called her the flower of the North. Of course, I think you’re much prettier than any flower. You have kind eyes.”

Arya slowly looked back up at you, still rather wary. “I’m sorry for throwing food,” she muttered.

You chuckled and shook your head. “Actually, I thought it was quite well done. You have wonderful aim for someone so young,” you complimented.

Arya’s face lit up in surprise and happiness. “I can shoot a bow and arrow, too,” she bragged, her earlier nervousness already long forgotten.

“You must be incredibly talented to learn such a difficult thing as archery,” You raved. “I’d love for you to show me sometime.”

Arya nodded excitedly, her eyes sparkling at the prospect of showing someone else her skills. “Would you like to meet Nymeria?” She blurted.

You tilted your head slightly. “Forgive me, my lady, but I don’t know who that it.”

“She’s my direwolf. I’ve been training her myself, and she already knows how to fetch me things!” She rushed.

You grinned widely. You’d heard of the great animal that donned the Stark banners, but you never dreamed you’d see one in person. “I’d absolutely love to meet Nymeria,” you said honestly.

-

Jon found himself smiling as he watched you talk to his favorite sister. You spoke to her like you’d known her for years, and she seemed to be quite taken with you. He knew Arya had some trouble with the ladylike manner expected of her.

Jon quickly shook the thought from his head. You were a princess, for the gods’ sakes. Nothing would ever happen. Still, he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of you.

That is, until his uncle Benjen interrupted his wine-induced thoughts of you.

-

You glanced over to see Jon running from the hall, tears rolling down his cheeks. You looked back to Arya. “Please excuse me, my lady, I will be right back,” you said quickly. Arya nodded, a large smile still holding her face.

You picked up your skirts slightly and rushed from the hall after Jon. You shivered at the rush of cold air that hit you, but you didn’t care. Instead, you ran after him and grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him to face you.

“What do you want?” He spat, his voice laced with venom. You took a step back in shock. Quickly, he realized his mistake and said, “Sorry, your grace, I thought you were someone else.”

“It’s alright. Care to tell me why you’re crying?” You asked. Jon quickly turned away. You sighed. “Alright, instead, why don’t we just sit?” After a few moments, Jon nodded, and the two of you sat on a stone bench nearby. The stone seemed to take whatever warmth had been left in you, and you soon found yourself shivering. Suddenly, a weight appeared on your shoulders. You looked up to find Jon’s fur cloak wrapped around you.

Before I could protest, Jon said, “You’re cold. I’m not. It’s more use to you than it is to me.” You nodded slowly, allowing the silence to retake the two of you. You felt a warmth against your shins and looked to see a large, pure white wolf leaning against you. You smiled and reached a hand out to scratch him behind the ears.

“He’s beautiful,” you breathed, already enraptured by the direwolf.

“His name is Ghost,” Jon smiled slightly. “He seems to like you.”

“Well that’s good, because I’m rather taken with him as well,” you grinned. “I took a bit of chicken with me, but if you’re not hungry...” you started hopefully, hardly taking your eyes off the handsome young wolf.

“Please, he would be much happier with it than I would,” Jon grinned, ruffling the fur on top of the wolf’s head.

You pulled the chicken from beneath the cloak and offered it to the wolf. Immediately, Ghost happily took the gift and almost ate it whole. After, he jumped onto your lap, his giant paws on either leg, and started trying to lick your face. You laughed and did your best to get away from the onslaught. “Ghost, get down!” Jon shouted, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck. You laughed and wiped at your cheek. “Sorry, he’s usually much better than that,” Jon turned to you.

“It’s alright, he’s just saying thank you,” you dismissed without a second thought. Silence fell over you again, though this was a slightly more pleasant one. You found yourself gazing thoughtfully into Jon’s eyes, and to your surprise, he returned your stare wholeheartedly.

“I’m joining the night’s watch,” he suddenly blurted out. You raised a brow in surprise, leaning back a bit. “I can’t take a wife, and I can’t father any children. And I would die before I fathered a bastard,” he said it with such conviction, his eyes hard as he looked at you.

You nodded slowly, mulling over his words. You turned back to him after a few moments. “That doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, does it?” You asked. Of course, you knew as well as he did that you two might not survive long as just friends. But you had to try. You liked Jon, and you didn’t want to let him out of your life.

“Aye, we can be,” Jon said, unsure.

“Great,” you grinned, though this one didn’t have quite as much heart as usual. “Then I’ll write you every week at Castle Black. And I expect responses, Jon Snow, or I’ll come down there myself and give you a piece of my mind.”

Jon chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “You have my word, your grace.”

You rolled your eyes. “I am far from graceful, Jon. Just call me (Y/N).”

Ok, so this is a little bit late coming out but I actually kind of like how it turned out.  Hope you do, too!

You weren’t sure when it happened, these feelings you had for him.  Perhaps at the feast, when the two of you had spoken for hours, much to your mother’s chagrin.  No matter when it happened, though, you had fallen and fallen hard for Jon Snow.

Of course, it had been only moments after you’d realized your feelings that your father revealed that you were to marry Ned Stark’s eldest son, Robb Stark.  So, you quickly forgot your feelings, instead loyally dedicating yourself to your new husband, even going so far as to follow him when he marched on your own family.

One thing that you truly could never have foreseen was the Red Wedding.  You were spared a bloody death due to your heritage, but that did little to comfort you as your husband and all of his men were murdered right in front of you.  You could still clearly remember Roose Bolton grabbing your wrist and attempting to pull you out of the hall.  Your mind clouded with fear, and you yanked your hand away.  Lord Bolton rolled his eyes and reached for you wrist again, but before he could, you punched him as hard as you could in the throat and ran as fast as you could to get away from him.

The scene outside was even more horrifying than that in the castle as hundreds of soldiers were massacred by the Freys.  Soon, a howling caught your attention, causing you to rip your eyes away just in time to see a few soldiers approaching the stables that Grey Wind was staying in with crossbows in their hands.

“Stop!” you screamed as the men took aim.  They whirled around to face you, suspicion evident in their faces.  You took a deep breath and steadied yourself, forcing yourself to remember all of the authority you had been taught to hold since you were a child.  “Do not lay a finger on that wolf.”

“And why not?” one of the soldiers sneered.

You narrowed your bright green eyes, black curls flowing smoothly down your shoulders as your long life of being taught to always have the confidence of a lion and the strength of the stag took over you.  “The King, my brother, would like to keep him as a trophy.  You wouldn’t want to disappoint King Joffrey, would you?” You asked calmly, the unspoken threat clear in your voice.  The soldiers glanced at one another but grunted a disdainful agreement before moving on to kill more Stark men.  Quickly, you rushed forward and swung open the gate.

“Grey Wind, come with me.  We must escape quickly,” you hissed at the wolf.  You could have sworn that he nodded just before leading you to the nearest cover -- the woods -- and from that moment on, he was loyal only to you.

Years went by, and you spent your time running from the many, many, many men sent to capture you and bring you back to your family, partly out of fear of what they might do when they caught you -- Joffrey didn’t take kindly to threats against his leadership, and with all of the rumors going around about your births, he could easily see your black hair as a threat.  More than that, though you were disgusted by who they were.  The things that they had done to other people -- to good people.  You simply couldn’t stomach it.  Eventually, though, you found yourself here, at the wall.

“You see, the moment I heard that you had been elected Lord Commander, I knew I had to come.  I knew that you would protect me from my mother,” you sniffed, still holding onto the cold hand.  You sighed and shook your head.  “No, that’s not true.  I came here because I loved you -- because I still love you -- and I needed to see you again.  Of course, this is not quite what I had in mind.”  You cut yourself off as a lump formed in your throat.  “I just... why did you have to go?” You gasped a sharp breath, and for the first time since the night you had lost your husband, you allowed yourself to cry.

Your entire body shook with sobs as you bent yourself over the lifeless body of the Stark bastard.  “I know it’s kind of pointless now, but...” your voice was thick as you choked out the words.  “I-I love you, Jon Snow.”

“I love you, too.”  You screamed and jumped back.  From the table before you, Jon smiled.

“You’re dead,” you said shakily.  “The red witch failed.  You shouldn’t be here.”

“I don’t feel dead,” Jon shrugged.  Silence fell for a moment before Jon asked, “Was it true?  What you you said, do you truly love me?”

Slowly, still rather shaken by everything that had happened, you nodded.  Tears filled your eyes as you made your way back to him.  “From the moment I met you,” you confessed.

“As have I,” he smiled gently.  He reached up and placed a hand on your cheek, gently pulling you to him until your lips met.  It was messy and desperate, but it was one that you would treasure for the rest of your life.

Before long, Jon pulled away with a groan.  You glanced down to find Grey Wind standing over the man, surveying him suspiciously. You chuckled and ran a hand through the course fur of the direwolf.  “I guess he’s a little protective.”

“I can see that,” Jon groaned, trying to push the wolf away without further angering him.  

You grinned and shrugged.  “He will adapt,” you said casually before bending down for another kiss, of which the two of you soon became lost in.

Before you could do much, though, a grey nose had shoved its way between you, its owner staring at you in an effort to make you give him attention.  You rolled your eyes and laughed.  “Sorry about him.”

“It’s alright,” Jon grinned.  “We’ll have plenty of time together.”

Summary: You've been chosen by Jon Snow's Bannermen as a suitable bride, but you're not a normal highborn woman and you need your new betrothed to know that.

Pairing: Jon Snow x Reader

Warnings: None, I think.

Requests are open for Avengers, Walking Dead & Game of Thrones

The riotous celebration could be heard through the halls of Winterfell as the men and women rejoiced from the recent victory. The Starks were back in Winterfell, Ramsay Bolton, the bastard, had been slaughtered and Jon Snow had crowned king in the North. If that wasn't enough cause for a celebration, after much deliberation, the Bannermen decided that a King needs a Queen and you were chosen to wed the white wolf.

Since the moment your engagement was announced you had been waiting for the opportune moment to speak with the king. You paced up and down the main hall, waiting for him to appear, hoping to have a word before he joined the merriment.

After some time you heard footsteps coming closer and straightened your back.

"Your grace!" You called once he was within your sights.

"My lady, is something wrong?" He asked his brow furrowing with worry. You had to admit the man was attractive.

"May I speak freely, your grace?" You asked politely.

"Of course, my lady." He answered with no hesitation.

You took a deep breath and began to speak the words you had practiced in your chambers since learning of the agreement. "I was raised to be a proper wife. My mother ensured that I knew everything a noble lady requires for a married life...anything to please her husband and raise him good sons." You paused making sure he understood your words. "I had no quarrel with those teachings till the Usurper took the Iron Throne and the North was thrown into a civil war. My father lost all three of his male heirs fighting for your brother Robb, the young wolf. I learned a new trait and became his son. I fight with his men in battle, I stand by his side in council meetings, I lessen the pain of losing his sons." You squared your shoulders ready to deliver your final words. "If you wish to have a subservient wife who will bear your children and stay inside Winterfell's walls twiddling her thumbs I suggest you march inside and tell your Bannermen to chose another bride for your grace...for I am not that lady anymore."

Jon didn't speak instantly. He took a few seconds to mull over your words and the silence was driving you mad. For a millisecond you wondered if your words could be considered treason.

"We are at war...the dead are coming and winter is already here...The men chose you because we need to unite the North and they know I need a strong woman to stand by my side during battle." He took a step closer to you, his face softening a bit. "Marriage isn't exactly what I had in mind but it's best not to shake the traditionalist too much, my lady." He finished with a kind smile that you couldn't help but return.

"That I can do, your grace. I pledge my sword and my hand to your cause." You fisted your hand and banged it once against your chest, right above your heart.

"I was the bastard of Winterfell for most my life, my lady, please call me Jon." He insisted taking your hand and placing a small kiss on it.

"I'll grant your request if you call me, (Y/N). Like I said I'm no longer a lady."

Fandom: Game of Thrones

Pairing: Jon Snow x reader

Summary/Request: Soulmate AU Where your mark can only be seen by your soulmate, who just so happens to be the Bastard of the North.

Word Count: 2174

WARNING: POTENTIAL ATTEMPTED RAPE TRIGGER

You tied up the front of your dress, your fingers ghosting over the intricate snowflake that was splayed over your chest. The middle of the snowflake was in the middle of your cleavage and the rest of it branched out over your breasts.

“Y/N, you need to hurry. Lord Bolton will wake soon and you must help him bathe.” Margaret said, fussing around with her apron.

“Why did I get dressed then?” You replied with a scowl.

“Because he enjoys watching you undress”

“He’s a monster. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again”

“He’s keeping you out of the cold. Winter is coming”

And with that, Margaret left. The servants managed to sneak the Stark motto into conversations to remind each other of their allegiance to House Stark. You were Arya Stark’s tutor before Ned Stark’s was decapitated. Theon let you live because he had a soft spot for you. Only when the Boltons took over, the other servants helped you to hide the fact that you were her tutor and thus you stopped studying books and started scrubbing floors.