Hey all! Thanks so much for the overwhelming amount of reviews, it means a lot. I honestly didn't expect to get much traffic on this! So thank you! I also want to point out 2 things) 1: some said that sex felt a little fast between Andrea and Jon; understandable but please keep in mind that these chapters sometimes splay over months of time in Winterfell. It's hard to capture time passing sometimes, so that's my mistake, but I did try to convey that they knew one another for a long while before getting busy ;) and on that note 2: please adhere to the rating on this chapter!
Chapter 7: Warning Signs
She's heard rumors that Grandshire is getting nearer to Winterfell, that he might close the space between him and their gates in a night or so. She shivers in anticipation at the thought—she has no idea if there's any weight to the whispers between the walls and corridors but she doesn't want to bother Jon with asking either. She figures if there was something to worry about, he would let her know.
Andrea lets out a short breath through her nose as she walks down one of the halls, running her fingers through her long locks. As she rubs the back of her neck and chews on her lower lip, she wonders if she should tell Jon about Sansa…about talking with her in her bedchambers about trust and lack thereof. Probably not; that was a private concern between her and the Lady of Winterfell. She can work on proving herself without Jon's help, it's only a matter of time before she sees Andrea as she truly is—no strings attached, no hidden meanings or deals or intentions. She cares for Jon as the bastard of Winterfell, not even as a King, without expecting anything more in return.
A clutter of footsteps—
She pauses at the sound, turning a little to look behind her. There's nothing, just wood and stone and the flickering of fire lighting the hallway. She could have sworn she heard…
Andrea shakes her head and continuous onward, until she hears it again. Faster this time, as if someone is coming up behind her. She turns quickly, expecting to see something but there's nothing, not even a shadow. A flutter of worry works its way up her spine, butterflies in her stomach as her heartbeat starts pitter-pattering in her ears.
Her breathing is starting to match her heartbeat, quick and short, picking up her pace as she rushes down the hallway and around a corner—
Only to run right into someone.
She squeaks as someone grabs onto her arms, trying to steady her but panic claws up her throat. "Hey, hey," Jon says quickly, Andrea's eyes meeting his calm brown ones. Relief flushes over her like a wave; oh, it's Jon. "It's just me."
She lets out a short breath, her hands grabbing onto his forearms as he squeezes the sides of her shoulders. "Was that you?" Confusion pinches between his eyebrows; she supposes she deserves that. It couldn't have been him, it was coming from behind her. Was it an echo? Or maybe it wasn't anything at all, paranoia working against her. "I thought someone was following me."
Jon frowns, glancing behind her for a moment before rolling his thumbs against the tense muscles aside her collarbone. "I know we've been rather…busy lately but maybe I should actually let you get some sleep at night."
He's teasing her. Andrea huffs and pushes on his chest, a light chuckle leaving her lips. "Not funny, I'm serious."
He gently takes her hands into his own, pulling her close and pressing a kiss to her temple. Andrea relaxes, her muscles unraveling, a calm settling over her like a blanket as she leans into his chest. Her head rests on his shoulder, nose brushing over the side of his neck, breathing him in.
"I was looking for you." She whispers after a moment, pressing a soft kiss to his jawline before meeting his eyes.
A hum leaves his mouth, hand coming to rest against her lower back, grounding her. "I've been held up with Ser Davos all afternoon, my apologies."
She wants to tell him that he shouldn't apologize for doing what he needs to do as King but simply shakes her head instead; she at least appreciates the sentiment.
"Was there something you wanted to discuss?"
Andrea swallows, a nagging urge inside her to mention Sansa or how she's concerned about Grandshire, but the comforting warmth of his arms melt her concerns to the back of her mind where she can't reach them.
"I just wanted to see you." She shrugs lightly. "A little selfish, I suppose."
Jon smiles gently, his hand cupping the back of her head to draw her closer so he can kiss her forehead. She allows her eyes to close, memorizes his scent, his touch, the caress of his words against her skin like she might lose it, lose him, have everything slip between her fingers like sand.
"I think you can earn the right to be selfish every now and then."
It almost seems ironic for him to say—is he ever selfish? Does he ever make decisions to benefit himself? She feels like he's probably always been self-sacrificing, even before he was King. But she doesn't try to argue with him about that, not now.
Andrea pulls back, her hands finding Jon's. She takes a step back, starting to wander down the hall and tugging him along with her.
"You ever take that advice for yourself?"
He smiles, "Not as often as I should."
Her bedroom is nearby and she opens the door by backing into it. She pulls him closer to press a soft kiss on his lips and she smiles against him, a mischievous flicker in her eyes before Jon closes the door behind them.
"Want to be selfish with me right now?"
He wraps his arms around her, picking her up in one fluid motion. Andrea grabs onto him, taking his hair out of his bun. "You're making it hard to say no."
She laughs softly as they back up onto her bed, Jon lying her down, but before he can crawl on top of her she switches their positions. She settles against him, between his legs, resting on his chest a moment. "It's part of my charm."
"Just part?" He teases, squeezing her sides.
Andrea grins and sinks down between his legs, intending to pay him back the favor from the other night. "Just part." She confirms, Jon shifting to slide further down in bed into a more comfortable position.
Andrea strokes his thighs, removing his boots and putting them on the floor. She doesn't go as far as the remove the leather strapped against his chest…it's not where her attention lies. She undoes his trousers with careful fingers, her eyes never leaving his as he watches her. She nearly falls into the dark brown of his eyes, almost black, his breathing picking up as she exposes him to the cool air of her room.
She lets out a soft moan at the sight of him and kisses the inside of his thighs, leaving little marks with her lips. Jon sighs out, his eyes fluttering closed, hips twitching at the sensation. She smirks, her thumb brushing over his balls before taking him into her mouth. There's no hesitation on her part, her tongue traveling down his shaft. A guttural moan starts in his chest and echoes through his throat, his hand gathering up the fur on her bed.
She uses her hand to hold his cock, her tongue flattening against the tip, paying special close attention to the sounds leaving his mouth—she wants to go with what feels the best. Jon seemed to know exactly what she needed and where and for how long without any direction from her but it's not as easy for her.
A dull heat settles between her legs, begging for friction, but she ignores it in favor of giving her attention to Jon. He reaches a hand down to tangle in her hair but not pushing her, letting her take her time even though she's trying not to tease him.
Not tonight anyways.
Her fingers rub the base of his cock as her mouth sinks down on him again, taking more of him, humming as she goes. A breath hitches out of him, his hips rolling down towards her, her hand stroking the soft skin of his thigh. She can feel him trembling, her name slipping past his lips and setting her insides on fire.
Andrea groans, a shiver coursing down her spine as she picks up the pace with her hand and she hollows out her cheeks.
"Close." Jon warns her, voice rough with arousal, pinching with desperation.
She pulls back, uses her hand to finish him off. Her cheeks feel flushed, lips wet and swollen, her hips stuttering forward as her body wants more. His gaze find hers, his breathing ragged, seconds before his eyes slam shut and he lets go. Jon groans, back arching a little off the bed, her hand slowing as she draws out his pleasure for him.
Once he's collapsed onto the bed again, Andrea cleans them up, pulling his pants back up before she rinses off her hands in a water basin near her bed. She slides back into bed with him, presses soft kisses along his jawline and settles between his legs. He runs his hand through her hair, his lips finding a ticklish spot on her neck to kiss. Andrea squirms a little and a soft laugh leaves him, affection clear in his gaze as he looks at her.
He pulls the furs up and over them, her head resting on his shoulder.
"Would you like me to…?" He trails off, lips brushing her forehead as he speaks.
The heat is dying inside of her, flickering embers but regardless she shakes her head. "Be a little selfish, remember?"
The King in the North just smirks, pressing a kiss against the bridge of her nose before she falls asleep.
Andrea takes a deep breath through her mouth and lets it out of her nose, concentrating on the hay figure in front of her. She digs the heel of her right foot into the mud to ground herself and swing the sword. It makes contact, but just barely, shaving off bits of the top part. She frowns and draws herself back, straightening her shoulders.
Damn it.
She rubs her one shoulder, brushing random pieces of hay from the top of the wooden target with her other hand. She sees Ghost lift his head out of the corner of her eye where he's laying nearby, watching her, guarding her almost.
She smiles softly at the direwolf to whom she's starting to spend more and more time with. He finds her often when she's alone, curls up next to her to warm her or lies nearby, an ever-watchful eye that sometimes feels like Jon himself—an extension of him.
"I know, don't give me that look." She jokes, feeling silently judged by his red eyes. "It's not as easy as Jon makes it look."
She's ready to try again but a voice sounds behind her, "You're not pivoted enough," and turns and sees, to her surprise, Leo walking towards her, "Your body," He clarifies. "It's not angled to the side enough, that's why your aim is off."
Andrea is having a hard time finding the words to say, in fact, her body automatically takes a step back from Leo as he approaches her. Ghost must sense the tension fizzling into the air because he moves to position himself between them. He digs his claws into the mud, a low growl starting in his throat.
Leo freezes instantly, staring at the direwolf before glancing at her. What did he really think would happen? The last time they spoke they hadn't left each other on good terms…she had no idea what to expect from him anymore.
"I'm not here to fight with you." Leo says calmly, making no sudden movements just in case.
She watches him carefully, trying to read him through his body language. Eventually she lets out a soft sigh and sets her sword down against the hay figure, "Ghost, heel." Instantly he straightens and rounds behind her, bumping into her leg before lying down.
Leo's body instantly relaxes, the rigidness in his shoulders disappearing before removing some distance between them. He remains a few steps apart, just enough, but a lot closer than Ghost would allow them to be before.
"What do you want?" She doesn't look at him, doesn't want to; tries to find more interesting things to stare at even though she can sense him trying to meet her gaze.
"To apologize," He pauses, maybe considering his words, "Hurting you was…it was never my intention."
She scoffs, because really? "Those things you said…" She shakes her head. "How could your intention be anything other than to hurt me?" Andrea finally meets his gaze and holds it, her eyes starting to water. No, she won't cry. She won't. Emotions well up inside her chest, her voice shaking, "Because you did. A lot."
He tries to touch her but she pulls away from his grasp, his hand still hovering before it finally falls. "I know. I should have never said those things about you."
"Then why?"
She knows…of course she knows, Jon was right wasn't he? How Leo feels about her?
"You are aware that he loves you."
Leo shakes his head, running a hand through his tangled locks, a soft sigh leaving his lips. She watches his expression, tries to peel back the layers and see what Jon saw with one observation. Andrea doesn't understand it, isn't sure she wants to…but what she does want is for Leo to be honest.
How else are they going to get past this?
"I care for you and I let my concerns about you getting involved with the King get the better of me," He sounds like he's swallowing glass when he says it, the King. "You have to know what some of his men think of you…what the kitchen maidens say."
"They can think what they wish." She mutters, "They will anyways regardless of how I feel."
"But those are Jon's people," Leo stresses. "He needs them to support him in order to be a King in the first place. They can take that position away from him as quickly as they gave it to him."
Andrea feels frustration boil in her blood, heating her face. The contrast to the weather outside makes her shiver, "So what are you saying?"
Leo lets out a soft sigh, chewing on his lower lip before he takes a step forward and draws her hand into his own. She tries to pull away but he won't allow her to, his thumb caressing the inside of her wrist.
"I'm saying, there might be a point where he puts his people's interests above his own. Above yours. I just don't want to see you get hurt."
Her hand relaxes in his own right before he lets go, nodding his head at her before he turns to leave. Her eyes practically bore a hole into his back as she watches him walk away, glancing down at Ghost before picking up her sword.
She angrily positions herself and swings, hard, lopping off the hay-head of the figure in front of her. Her breathing is a little erratic, her heartbeat echoing in her ears. It's only then she realizes her hands are shaking because Leo's words have seeped into her pores.
And while she says over and over again that Jon wouldn't do that, she worries that he might be right.
Andrea takes a break, really needs one after she swings a few more times and wears down the muscles of her arms. She pulls her cloak tighter around herself as she leaves through the gate, not going far, but just enough that she doesn't feel like Winterfell is suffocating her. Ghost trots closely behind, pushing his nose into the snow.
Stress fills up her ribcage, making anxiety flare hotly in her bloodstream. She licks her lips and nervously tugs the hood of her cloak, playing with the fur there, a habit ticking the moments by. She has to talk to Jon about this, she must; it's going to eat at her otherwise. Pretending that she's not concerned about what the future may look like doesn't do her or Jon any good—especially since they are getting closer each day.
While she wants to remain in a shade of grey with him, in hushed kisses and gentle touches and smiles against skin, they need to decide where they fall: in black or in white.
She sighs and pushes her foot through the snow, turning around to watch Ghost come up beside her leg.
"You're lucky you're a wolf." She tells him, Ghost only tilting his head at her in response.
Andrea moves to go back inside Winterfell…when she hears something in the distance, a crack of a tree branch being stepped on. She turns but sees nothing other than the whiteness of snow, the stillness of trees.
Then again, the pitter patter of footsteps.
Like the hallway.
Panic flares up her windpipe, her heart starting to beat quicker in her chest, echoing in her ears. Ghost growls, low and deep, he senses something too. But where is it coming from? She isn't going to wait to find out.
Before she can figure out what's going on, Ghost launches himself at someone past her, hitting them straight in the chest. She starts to run but they grab her cloak, spinning her so fast that her head almost snaps to the side, and Andrea loses her balance.
She hits the ground hard, her head ringing, snow completely enveloping her. She struggles to get up even though her body is telling her go, go, go—her hands frozen, legs numb. She looks to her side, blinking fast so the dizziness passes.
Ghost makes a strangled noise, something she never wants to hear from the animal again, high pitched and distressed; like he's been kicked.
"Don't hurt him." She manages to say, rolling over into the snow.
Before she can get up someone grabs her, yanks her up and flush against him. It's a man, older, face as cold as ice. Andrea squirms, tries to manage her way out of his grasp but it's futile—he's holding her too tight, almost lifting her off the ground. He's pinning her without pushing her against anything, making her feel paralyzed, a soft whimper leaving her lips.
Those rumors she remembers hearing…about Grandshire. This has to be him. Who else could it be?
The footsteps she heard in the hall earlier, was…it was too close in sound to be a coincidence. Was something trying to warn her? She's never believed in fate or the old gods or the new; but how could that have been anything else?
He doesn't handle her gently, hands hard like stone, squeezing her hard enough to bruise. His breath smells like rotting teeth, the dead, spits in her face as he talks.
"He's not the one you should be worried about."
A sharp pain hits her in the back of her head, traveling down her neck and she swims in darkness.
