A/N: Thanks so much for all your reviews! This chapter is kinda short, but hopefully it covers some of what you lovely people have brought up in your reviews.
I feel like there is something else that needs to be said, but I can't think of it because I'm a scatterbrain... so... enjoy (though i feel a bit iffy about this chapter as per usual... specifically the end)!
I don't own ASOIAF or GOT.
beyond here lies nothing
chapter nine
When Iliya wakes up, she feels like there's been a stampede of aurochs trampling on her head.
She does not move, just slowly blinks. For a moment, she wonders how late or early it is; the sun is not shining into her small slit of a window, and everything sounds quiet. Disoriented, she tries to remember what had happened to her. She recalls her restlessness, going to bathe, and then – images flash through her mind. She sees Ayden, the blood swirling in the bathwater. Jon's face. She faintly remembers jumbled words, feels the warmth from Jon's heavy black cloak.
Iliya tries to raise her arm to lift a hand to her bandaged head, but there's a weight on it that prevents her from doing so. She lifts her head the smallest bit and peers down at her arm in confusion. How she had not noticed Jon Snow's mop of curly dark hair is beyond her, and she lays her head back down. It does little to reduce any pounding in her skull.
She feels guilty for relishing in the fact he is asleep beside her, and through the haze of her half-asleep mind, she wonders if this is a dream.
It hits her then that he's probably carried her up from the bath house, and her cheeks start feeling uncomfortably warm. Wonderful, she mentally groans. This will be the second time Jon Snow has seen me as naked as I was on my first name day.
"Jon," She whispers, trying to focus on waking him up instead of thinking of what it would be like to wake up next to him in a different manner. When she doesn't receive an answer, she shakes her arm and speaks a little louder.
He abruptly shoots up. "Iliya," Jon starts, then seems to realize he's fallen asleep in her cot and stands. "I ... did not mean to disrespect you-"
"Please," Iliya mutters tiredly, "You've nothing to be sorry about." She closes her eyes.
"How is your head?"
"It will be fine. I'm sure," She says, grimacing despite herself. "And Ayden? What has..."
"... I'm certain he won't be here to bother you any longer."
She isn't expecting that reply, and though her eyes almost open in surprise, the light starting to filter in hurts her head. "What makes you certain of that?" This sounds too good to ever be true, and her first instinct is to disbelieve. "I don't know where he could have gone."
"He'll be moving to a different branch." Jon says simply, and something in his tone almost says that's the end of it. "I know you're in pain, but lift up your head." Eyes still closed, she does as he says and feels him unravel the bandages he's already put on. New ones wrap around in their stead.
Could it be true? Could he really be gone? Jon isn't one for lies, however, so she's more inclined to believe it. Still, she asks. "For true?"
"Yes," Comes the short, clipped answer. The strange tone in his voice makes her open her eyes and look at him.
He has an equally strange look in his eyes as he stares back, frowning. "What is it?" She asks.
"It's..." If I had not been so late, you wouldn't have that wound. Even worse, he wonders if she'd still be breathing if he had not woken up. But Jon doesn't quite want to tell her that he'd made a vow to himself to protect her – among other things that have dawned upon him - so he just clears his throat and looks away. "Are you sure your head is alright? Thorne will wonder if you're absent from training."
"I'll be fine," Iliya replies, but still gives him a long look. It's obvious to her that what's come out of his mouth is clearly not what he truly wanted to say. "I'd just like to rest some before we have to start the day, is all."
Jon nods, but he still stands there, looking almost lost. "I'll be fine," She repeats, stressing the fine.
"It's just..."
"What is it?"
"What's happened between you and Stonetyde," Jon says, glancing at his boots before back at her, "What will you do if..."
"Spit it out," Iliya mumbles wearily. Her head is still thrumming, and she's got a whole day of training and possibly watch duty later on. Sometimes she wishes he would just tell her what's on his mind – the way he seems so awkward trying to get the words out only serves to make her frustrated right now.
"... if you become with … child?"
Jon immediately looks like he wishes he could take back his question; she wonders if it's because of the sour look mingled with pain she can feel come to her face or from courtesy.
"A mother's life has never been an option for me," Iliya says stiffly. "I am ... barren."
That had also been one of the main reasons her old brothel had wanted to keep her. No worrying if bastard children would come about, no worrying about getting a hold of moon tea or tansy. When she had been examined and told that, she had been quite upset - but as time went on, she decided she would not want to bring a child into a world like this.
Iliya hadn't fancied the idea of having a child whose life would end up just like hers, the life of a bastard or a whore. She remembers thinking that while being upset about her circumstances, but that had been a long time before coming to the Wall was even a seed of a thought in her mind. She supposes now that it had been a blessing in disguise, but before, she had sometimes wondered what it would be like to hold a babe of her own flesh and blood in her arms.
"Forgive me. I..."
"Why should you apologize?" Iliya closes her eyes again. "You are too apologetic for your own good at times, Jon Snow," She sighs.
"I should not have pried."
Stupid Jon Snow, she thinks. You've done more than I could have ever asked from anyone, yet you're still so...
"You did no such thing. You asked me a question, and I answered it." She tries to smile for him.
"Why do you cry, then?"
Sure enough, when she opens her eyes and touches her cheek, her fingers come away wet. She stares at the wetness on her fingertips, and Jon isn't sure if the smile on her face is sad or relieved. Perhaps it's both, he thinks.
"Because …" The way she feels is almost foreign to her – something she's only felt bits of these past few weeks, around Jon - but she's certain of what it is. "I am happy."
She stays that way, because sure enough – when she straggles out to the courtyard late to go break her fast, she does not see him sitting inside the hall, nor does she see him training. She feels like she's floating for the rest of the day; even Grenn mentions her uncharacteristic demeanor.
And she hasn't forgotten it's all because of Jon Snow – he's saved her life in more ways than one by now. She almost can't look at him, sometimes, because of the fluttery feeling she gets in her belly.
He's helped you because you are a friend, Iliya, she reminds herself more often than not. It is nothing more, so stop this silliness and view him in the same manner.
But no matter how hard she's told herself this, she isn't sure how much longer she can keep denying it.
Denying what? Some traitorous part of herself urges, as if she could only reveal these feelings to herself, they would be true.
And that, the truth in what she cannot even admit to herself, scares her.
Everything is fine the next few days; peaceful, even, despite the faint throbbing that's lingering in her head. With training done and naught more to do, she decides to keep Jon and Sam company on the Wall.
"I miss girls," Sam moans. "Not even talking to them! I never talk to them... Just looking at them, hearing them giggle..."
If only you knew, Sam, she thinks. Sam steps up next to Jon, looking at him curiously. "Don't you miss girls?"
A part of her that is curious about that sort of side of Jon Snow wonders if he does. Iliya still recalls him talking of the woman, Ros, and she can't help the bit of jealousy that rises up. He won't ever see you that way, Iliya. Why torture yourself?
Iliya is not girlish in the ways that count, lacking in charm, and - "She was gorgeous," he had said.
I am not gorgeous. My hair is not pretty and red, it's ratty and brown. And I doubt he much thinks my chest is perfect, either, she thinks scornfully. But it doesn't matter, she reminds herself with some difficulty. None of that matters, because … she can't even finish those mental words, and there's a faint, hurt pang in her heart.
But Jon does not even answer Sam while she's in her thoughts; she's only brought out of them when she hears Sam exclaim, "Riders! The horn, we have to blow the horn!"
"Why is he alone?" Jon mutters, squinting at the small, distant shape on the snowy land.
"Alone?" Iliya echoes, wishing the snow would stop blowing into her eyes so she could see.
"One blast for a ranger returning, two for wildlings, three for-"
"There's no rider," He realizes. A horse missing its rider could not be anything good, and they quickly head down the Wall.
Even Lord Commander Mormont is in the courtyard when they finally get down there. "That's my Uncle Benjen's horse," Jon states, and she can hear the distress in his voice clear as a bell. "Where's my uncle?" He asks Mormont.
He doesn't answer.
She does her best to cheer him up, but it barely works. He had told her before he is close with his uncle; Benjen Stark had never shunned him, and from what Jon had said of him, it would seem that the Stark bastard was his favorite.
And Jon, he can tell Iliya's putting forth her best efforts to relieve his worries, along with Sam and others. But even when he and Iliya train later in her room, he can't entirely focus on the matter at hand. She stops mid-swing, her sword arm lowering to her side.
"Jon," She frowns, "We don't have to train if you are not up to it. It's understandable."
As much as he wants to reassure her he's fine, he knows anything he says will come out less than believable. "I'm sorry, Iliya."
"What've I told you about apologizing so much?" She jokes, but the frown on his face does not go away. She sighs before sitting on her cot resting the sword against the stone wall. "Come, sit."
Jon sighs as well before acquiescing, his sword joining hers. "I've heard your uncle is a fine ranger. Perhaps he just..." She trails off.
He knows she does not know what could have happened to Benjen Stark. All the things he does think of are unsavory, and only serve to make the weight in his chest heavier. "You needn't try to cheer me up, Iliya."
"You'd have done it for me." She shakes her head. "You have."
Silence takes over the room, and he's lost in his thoughts until he feels a small hand on his knee. He looks at it, so pale against the black cloth, and a split second thought crosses his mind: She may be a stronger woman than most, but she is still delicate. What if one day it is her horse that returns riderless?
"Just think how happy he will be when he returns and you've become an official brother of the Night's Watch," She smiles, "We take our vows tomorrow."
"If he returns at all," He replies sullenly, and instantly feels ashamed of acting like a child in the light of her attempts to lift his spirits.
"Jon..." She whispers, sad for him.
The way he looks when he turns to her makes her feel terrible, even though she has nothing at all to do with Benjen Stark's disappearance. Iliya thinks that she'd do anything to make him smile in that lovely way that reaches his eyes again, but she feels once more like the whore she was – useless. All that he has done for her, and she cannot even return any of those favors.
But even that girl I used to be would have been able to make him forget about his problems. That thought leads to another, and before she knows it, she's got a hand curled around the back of his neck.
Jon is unaware of the what's running through her mind, and he's caught even more off guard when he feels her warm hand against the skin of his neck. He isn't sure what to expect when he looks back at her again – but the last thing he ever predicts is how she leans forward, and he feels the press of her lips against his. For a moment, the warmth that spreads through his body and the way her fingers tangle in his hair make him forget about his missing uncle, about the possibility his corpse is rotting somewhere beyond the Wall.
And not even before that moment is fully over does he pull away, eyes averted to the floor. "Iliya... you-" He swallows hard, trying to forget the feeling, the way the heat won't go away. "We cannot. You said it yourself, tomorrow we'll take our vows-"
"Tomorrow," Iliya agrees. "But right now is tonight, and no vows have been taken yet." She hesitates, then whispers. "I can help you forget, if only for a little while. You've helped me so many times, so - so please, let me return the favor."
How he's tempted to give in and gain some reprieve from this invisible shroud of worry and fear. It isn't as if Jon should worry about getting her with child - his fear of fathering a bastard child is unfounded with her. He's almost ready to just leave to remove himself from this situation he's found himself in, but her hand goes to his knee once more, the other reaching for his chin and turning his face to hers.
"Jon," She says - and if he's not dreaming all of this up - she sounds shy and softer than he's ever heard her. "Let me … let me help you."
And may the gods new and old help him, he does.
A/N: Oh jeez. So I hope the end of this wasn't too OOC - I've tried establishing their attraction, etc.
For those of you that have read up to the third book, I figured it'd be important to put this in now before they go beyond the Wall and STUFF (Lord's Kiss lolol.) happens...
Hopefully if you just keep in mind how Iliya wants to help him as much as he has her, their attraction, and Jon giving into the temptation of not thinking of this thing that's bothering the crap out of him, it isn't TOO weird?
And as for not going much into Ayden - they'll have bigger shit to worry about soon (my lame excuse).
Yeah, I don't know, so that's why I'd like you guys to tell me in those beautiful reviews of yours!
So I hope you enjoyed reading it, and I'm dying to hear your thoughts on this chapter. :)
