Hey guys! I'm on a roll! I've had a couple of hours to write this chapter tonight, and I really hope you'll like it!

TheFrenchWriter

The night he fell - Jon Snow x Ygritte fanfic, chapter 7

You were happy. He had been struggling to admit that fact to himself, but he couldn't keep it hidden anymore. You were happy. There had been some nights where he had dreamt of making love to her. It always began with a brief kiss, and then everything was hot and sweaty and the furs where piled up everywhere except on them. His mouth was hungry for more, trailing on every bit of flesh it could reach. Soon, he would wake up and find nothing but his empty bed of furs and a film of sweat on his brow. But then he would turn around and look at her. It was his only path to solace. Somehow, just by watching her, he would be able to imagine the lost happiness he missed so much. And it just hurt… Not being able to crawl next to her, to wrap his hands around her and kiss her to sleep. Sometimes, he thought being close to her was harder than being away since he wasn't allowed to touch her or talk to her the way he used to. You were happy… And she was happy too.

Ygritte had never been a very demonstrative individual, in a sense. She never really told him that she loved him. She never said anything to truly compliment him. Usually, when she acknowledged his qualities, she did it in a way that resembled mockery. You're brave… Stupid, but brave. Then he would secretly question himself about whether or not she truly loved him, or if she only found him fun to taunt. He never asked, though. Maybe he was afraid of the way she would react to a question of this type.

When they made love, though, he felt as if she unrestrained herself completely. Never did she look as happy and content as she did when their bodies collided, when one mouth smashed against the other. Looking back, he felt as if he should've enjoyed it even more. Now, everything they had seemed gone…

You were happy.

There were nights where they were calmer than usual, taking turns pleasuring the other, watching closely as their bodies trembled with passion. Then there were those nights where they couldn't keep their hands off each other, licking and biting hard, gleaming with gushing emotion. She had both hands in his hair – she liked his hair quite a lot actually, and he was keeping himself busy breathing every bit of her scent. She smelled of wilderness, of grass and forest and nature, and another smell he could only describe by using the word "warm". Yes, she smelled warm. How was that even possible? He couldn't tell.

He caught himself thinking about whether or not she missed having him inside her. At first, he wasn't sure, and then he thought about the way she used to wake him in the darkness, greedy for his touch. Her voice was hush, and most of the time she didn't need to explain. He just did it; jumping on top of her, lowering himself until his chest touched her bare breasts. Soon, silence reigned, only to be broken once or twice by their breathing accelerating brutally. He missed it: being guided by her hands, being whispered in the ear, being told he did just the right thing.

You were truly happy.

Jon woke up suddenly, glancing across the room, trying to settle his gaze on something, anything. His dreams had been particularly intense, resulting on his member growing very hard. He needed her so bad.

Closing his eyes, he tried to steady his breath. There. You can go back to sleep, now. You can.

His shoulders were immensely sore. He rubbed them in a circular motion, grunting with both relief and pain. He straightened his back, stretching his muscles. A feeble noise echoed in the night. The noise of two pieces of fabric being ripped apart. He searched for the origin of the sound and lowered his eyes on his abdomen. His bandage had fallen off his skin.

At first, he didn't think of it as a big deal, but then he took away the bandage and let out a muffled scream.

The wound's texture was badly altered, having become flabby and loose in a matter of days. When he poked it with a finger, pus sprayed out of the wound. The color had gone from red to a yellowish green.

His breath accelerated as he realized the intensity of the injury. If he let it grow, it would soon be fatal. Quickly, he turned around and called for Ygritte. She rose up immediately, being used to wake her body the fastest way possible in order to survive a potential enemy.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice still sleepy despite her trying to make it seem alert.

He pointed at his abdomen. "The wound."

She frowned and came closer to him. "Show me."

He turned in a way that he would face her. "There. It hurts like hell."

She didn't say anything right away, but her face tensed and she turned white. Jon's throat tightened as he realized the problem was even more serious than he thought.

"How bad is it?" he asked, worried.

She paused, considering the issue. "It's nasty."

Jon swallowed difficultly. All he managed to get out was one word: "How…?"

"How nasty?" She turned around, her eyes sinking deep into his. "It's spread from here…" She pointed the bottom of his abs. "T'here", she finished, showing a spot just below his last set of ribs. "I can't cut off anythin'… It's not like a limb." She shook her head brutally, frowned again and then let out a repressed whimper. It took her a moment to realize he had heard her, but then it was too late, was it?

"Jus' stay there. Don't move." Ygritte said, getting out of the tent.

He heard her calling for Tormund, and the intonation of her voice was so desperate he almost believed, although only for a second or two, that she was crying.

"He's on watch", she told Jon as she came back to him.

He saw that she had brought medicinal herbs with her. "This one's for the pain."

She tossed what looked like grass in a mortar. "I'll mash this up after we're done with the cleanin'."

He grimaced with pain and coughed deeply as she sprayed the wound with fresh water. "Did it pierce the lung?"

She shook her head. "Went through the back, but no. Just the abs an' other tissue."

The wildling paused, preparing some kind of paste with what remained of strange looking leaves. "Why didn't ya tell me it hurt tha' much?" she asked harshly.

"I thought maybe it was supposed to hurt", he replied innocently. "And I didn't really notice until now."

"It is supposed t'hurt, but just not so much. There's a difference between a healing wound an' this." She pointed at his injury.

"I know, it's just that…" he started uncertainly.

She leaned to get a pestle. "You know nothing, Jon Snow."

Five words, and you're happy again.

And even though the pain seared through his back down to his abs, even though his wounds had become a complete mess, even though he was freezing without his furs, he smiled so much.

"I'm dying, am I?" he asked weakly.

Not getting any answer, he called her name. "Ygritte?"

"No, you're not. You're not. Dumb is what you are, right now, sayin' all this." She spit out.

"Aye", he whispered.

He wanted to believe her. She wanted to believe herself. They were safe together, keeping away from sorrow.

You were so happy.

"I didn't know it…" he murmured, senseless.

"Didn't know what?" she asked while laying the paste on his abdomen.

"That you wanted me to speak to you somehow", he blurted out.

She furrowed her brow. "If you're dying from a secret wound, aye, ya can speak t'me."

"And if not?" he questioned, his eyes almost closing from fatigue.

She didn't reply yet. She waited for the moment to pass, for his eyes to close. She waited for his breath to steady. Then, she answered his question.

"I guess you're free t'do what ya want."

That's it for now! I hope you liked it! As always, I'll do my best to update quickly, so stay tuned ;)