Bound
Summary: Jon Snow didn't exactly have the best luck, but he never expected to get pregnant while he was Lord Commander on the Wall. But this isn't just any child. The Red Priestess makes a prophecy that it will be the key in destroying the White Walkers for good.
Chapter One
Men at the Wall were often horny.
Swearing a bout of celibacy for life was ridiculously painful for most. That's why so many brothers went 'mining' for pussy in Mole's Town. Jon just went about his day.
He wasn't a virgin any longer- Ygritte had seen to that. He would tell himself that he didn't need meaningless sex like the rest of his brothers. Sure, he had broken his oath but it wasn't something that he had ever regretted. He loved Ygritte. His brothers didn't love the whores they searched for. What he and Ygritte had had was love, primal and instinctive, full of want and need and lust. But it was love, above all else.
The day that his whole life changed, Jon thought it to be a perfectly normal day. He broke fast in the common hall. He watched the new boys train in the yard, giving them tips whenever needed, but he also knew when to stay back to let them become their own swordsman. He sent a correspondence letter to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea to talk about sending some of the new recruits there, and when he had some spare time near the end of the night, he he spent a couple of hours in the library with Samwell, Pypar and Grenn, where he pulled on Pyp's waggling ears, howled at Grenn's poor jokes and listened to Sam read them a passage he had found about dragon glass.
Everything changed when he went to bed.
Ghost was out hunting and his candle had gone out. A draft went through the room so he got up to close his window. He went back to sleep soon after and didn't hear it when the door squeaked as it opened.
It happened so fast that he didn't know that it was happening until it had happened.
His tunic was being pulled up as he woke up, startled. Then the horrific pain started. It felt as though a white hot poker was being shoved into him, relentlessly. He cried out and a rough pair of hands pushed his face down into his pillow. He couldn't breathe but that didn't stop him from making as much as noise as he could, hoping that someone would hear him. He screamed so loudly he could feel his throat tear. It was torture, the whole lot of it. He could feel the hot tears running down his face, and whoever was doing that to him was grunting with pleasure.
And there was a second one too, and that hurt even worse. They plunged themselves in and out of him to their hearts content while he prayed for death, or least for it to be over.
And when it was, he could hardly move a muscle. They left him there, face down on the mattress in his room, raw and torn and bloody.
When sunlight came, Jon could feel his body trembling all over. He wanted a glass of water. He tried to move but the pain below was excruciating. He knew he was bleeding there, he could feel it seeping down to his thighs while he was lying there and now it was all dry.
He had never thought about men being raped before. He always assumed that it happened to girls. He didn't want that dirty word running through his head- rape. Because it did make him feel dirty, it really did. He wanted a hot bath, to scrub himself until he felt clean again. But he couldn't move. And even if he could he'd have to go out and face the world. He had no clue which of his two brothers- well they certainly weren't brothers anymore- had put themselves inside him. He was afraid that if he left his room, they'd laugh and point and tell everyone that Jon Snow was the one who had cried like a girl when they took him.
A sudden fury came over him. He picked up his water jug and chucked it against the wall, hearing a satisfying smash. Immediate agony washed over him and he fell back down, trying not to cry.
"I haven't seen Jon in two days," Samwell Tarly confided to Grenn and Pypar. They were standing outside in the courtyard, huddled together as it snowed. "He hasn't been doing his duties. Ser Alliser keeps saying that he's the worst Lord Commander in the history of the Watch for abandoning his post. I can't seem to find him anywhere."
"He hasn't been up on the Wall?" Pyp asked, worried for his friend's safety.
"No, I've been doing the patrols," Grenn put in. "I would've seen him."
"Have you checked his room?" Pyp urged.
Sam frowned. He hadn't thought about that. "What do you think he'd be hiding in his room for?"
Pyp shrugged his skinny shoulders. "I don't know, but it's worth having a look."
At that moment, Ghost came bounding over to them, fresh blood around his muzzle. Clearly he was back from his hunt.
"Ghost!" Sam cried out. "Where you have you been? Did Jon go for a walk with you?" He scratched the direwolf between the ears and looked around but there was still no sign of Jon anywhere. Ghost looked at Sam with his red, red eyes.
"Lead us to him," Sam told Ghost urgently and the wolf went.
Pyp was right. Ghost led them right to Jon's door. Sam banged on it but there was no answer. Grenn pressed his ear to the door. "I can't hear anything," he whispered.
But Ghost was whining and scratching at the door while he stood on his hind legs. He was massive but he didn't scare Sam.
"Jon, we know you're in there. Ghost wants to see you. We want to see you."
"Go away," they heard a muffled voice.
They all looked at each other before deciding.
In one swift cut, the door was down and off its hinges. Jon leapt up, wincing after he did and sitting back down gingerly.
"What in Seven Hells was that for?" he spat.
"Well, you wouldn't answer the door so it was the only way," Pyp put in cheerfully while Grenn stayed back, checking out the damage. Meanwhile, Sam studied his best friend's face. His eyes had been red from crying. Sam's first thought was that Jon had been crying about his dead brother, Robb.
"Jon," he began cautiously. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." But Jon wouldn't look at him.
"You're not," Sam pointed out, unhelpfully. "Look at you, you look a mess."
Now Pyp and Grenn turned to look at him.
"Oh, Jon, you look terrible," Pyp said, not unkindly.
"Is it your brother?" Sam asked softly, gently. "Are you missing him?"
Jon had been thinking about Robb, thinking that if Robb were still here he would never have let this happen. He would start a war if he knew what had been done to Jon. But it wasn't Robb he was crying about.
"No. It's not Robb."
"Has someone else died?" Pyp stumbled over his words in a rush to get them out. Grenn glared at him.
"No. No one has died."
"Then what is it?"
Jon couldn't tell them. He didn't know why, but he just couldn't. He had to make something up, and fast.
"It's just that…I'm missing home is all."
They all glanced at each other again.
"You locked yourself up in your room for two days because you miss your home?" Pyp accused, eyebrows raised.
Jon nodded, realising how stupid that had sounded, too late.
"Well, you see, Winterfell's gone now and I've been dreaming a lot about it lately. I'll never see it again, not just because I'm in the Watch but because it's been destroyed. Roose Bolton is Warden of the North now, and he murdered my brother. Stabbed him right through the heart."
Now tears for Robb really were coming but he wiped them away angrily. They must already think him weak. To actually cry right in front of them…
"Jon, we are your brothers. Which means that Robb was our brother too. You know that we will destroy Roose Bolton. And the Freys for what they did to your brother and mother," Sam promised solemnly. A promise that he would keep until the deed was done.
"Lady Catelyn wasn't my mother," Jon said, thinking about the woman who had hated him so. He often thought about how it must have hurt her so to watch her son die before she was killed herself. He wanted his own mother but his father had died before he could tell him who she was.
They left him alone then, with promises to fix his door. He knew that he now couldn't stay in his room any longer, after he had made such a weak excuse. So he made himself dress and he went downstairs, ready to face the day.
As Lord Commander, he helped the new recruits to train in the yard. As he had skipped his duties the past two days, he needed to come up with a believable excuse, so he informed Ser Alliser that he hadn't been able to oversee the training as he had injured his back.
"What, by lying in bed all day and sulking like a girl?" Alliser sneered, as Jon knew he would.
Jon glared at his three friends, who had clearly ratted him out. He knew that it would've been better to just get on with training the boys, but he still hurt badly. And the worse part was that he needed to take a shit. He could not even begin to imagine the fresh waves of pain that would bring on.
He wanted to go see Maester Aemon. He knew that he needed to. He knew that there was a risk of infection. He was sure that he hadn't been the only one in the history of the Night's Watch to have been raped. Surely, Maester Aemon would have experience in dealing with these issues. He might be kind enough to give Jon a salve to rub onto the sore area, even stitch it back up. Jon had finally gotten the courage to examine himself at a silvered looking glass in his room, to check the damage. It was worse than he had expected.
But he was too embarrassed. So he didn't go.
He let it heal by itself. It was two weeks before he could sit in a chair without biting his lip and wanting to hit something out of frustration.
And then, when the pain was fading, so too did his memory fade. He let himself forget all about it. Because if he kept thinking about it, he was well to throw himself off the Wall. He had to get on with life. Let it become a distant thing of the past. It had happened to him, and he needed to move on.
Of course, that positive thought didn't stop him from barring his new door every night. And having Ghost there to guard it. And he couldn't sleep either, not without his sword in hand and one eye on the door at all times. Who needed sleep, really?
Breaking fast with his brothers was different now. Every now and then he'd glance around, wondering who were the two who had savaged him so. He never wanted to find out. He was like to kill them both if he did. He was also like to run away from them too. He was just thinking if the two of them had ever brutally raped anyone else sitting in the hall when an upsurge of sickness washed over him and he found himself bolting out of the hall to vomit outside.
He had his hands on his knees, panting, head spinning. He put a hand on the wall next to him to steady himself. With a shaky hand, he wiped his mouth. He figured it had been the eggs, the ones he had been given must have been raw. Or mayhaps it was the thought of his rapists doing the same thing to someone else that had made him so ill.
But it happened again that night, on the way to his room. He had been climbing the steps when all of a sudden, it brought itself upon him again and he had to crouch down. Later on, he cleaned up the mess and decided that this new cook needed to be either put in his place or kicked out.
And so for the next few weeks, it had become almost a routine for him to be sick, at any given moment, with no warning. He avoided breakfast if he could, only taking bread and water. He soon realised that it wasn't the food, as he was sick during training, though eating certainly contributed. It happened in the afternoons, too And in the dead of night.
"Jon, you might have a fever," Sam told him when he found Jon on his knees once again, outside the library. Sam bent and put a hand to Jon's forehead. "Oh, you're quite warm."
"I'm fine, Sam," Jon insisted, using Sam's hand to pull himself back up.
"No, you're not. You've been sick all over the place. And you haven't been eating either." Suddenly, Sam looked him up and down. "Well, no wonder you're looking so thin lately. That's not a good combination, Jon."
Jon rolled his eyes. He knew that he had lost weight and he didn't need to be told about it.
"Ever since we found you in your room, you've been acting odd. Something's wrong, I know it is. You're very quiet and you're hardly ever at meals anymore. Everyone agrees that your training is lacking. You were voted to become the 998th Lord Commander by an overwhelming majority. Don't let your brothers down, Jon. Don't let Ser Alliser and Janos Slynt prove themselves right about you. Because they're not right."
Jon had decided that he would take his secret to the grave. There was no point worrying Sam about it. What if Sam got scared and then he would have to learn to sleep with one eye open, always watching his door like Jon did? No, Sam didn't need that.
So he forced himself to smile. He clapped a hand to Sam's massive shoulder.
"Sam, I promise you. I am fine."
A/N: I have never written a fanfiction before so I don't really know what to expect on here. I really hate mpreg stories, they are always so cheesy. I will do my best to avoid cheesiness. I am quite excited about this story, I've got 13 chapters written already but I didn't think I'd publish this so I need to go back and make everything better. I'm really nervous about this so let me know if you hate it or like it, maybe even love it, what I should improve on and all that jazz. Thanks for reading and I hope I get a few reviews.
Also this will follow the Dance with Dragons timeline, except I haven't read that book yet so I'm not completely familiar with Jon's storyline so I'll read his chapter summaries online as a brief guide. Basically he's Lord Commander and Stannis and Melisandre are at the Wall. I'll have more to go on when season 5 begins because I don't think I'll be up to that book in 2 months. Also Ygritte appears but now I feel as though she doesn't really fit into the storyline, so I'll have to do a bit of tweaking. If you'd like her to stay in the story, then tell me, otherwise I'll just get rid of her. Up to you guys, I don't mind.
