Chapter 14 – Jon
Jon ran, as fast as his weary legs would carry him – for he knew he was being chased. His hair was frozen to his face and it became increasingly difficult to move or breathe. All he knew was that he had to keep running. The Night King was approaching with those blue, blue eyes and a look of icy fury, men all around Jon were dying and rising again, but all Jon could hear was silence.
Then, nothing but comforting warmth.
Jon opened his eyes to the tent he had stayed in since arriving at White Harbour, yet it did not look like the middle of the night nor early morning. He groaned uncomfortably in the pool of cool sweat from his nightmare and his arms hurt horrendously so when he tried to move them. Looking around, he spotted a petite, rigid figure, by the door as though standing guard.
"Arya?" he asked, his voice still croaky from sleep.
His little sister flew to his side in an instant. "Jon!" she exclaimed, an expression of both delight and worry on her serious face. "How are you feeling?"
"Sore and tired," he replied honestly. "What happened?"
"Do you not remember?" Arya asked, regarding him carefully for a moment. "I don't know what kind of conversation you had with Daenerys Targaryen beforehand, but you fell – must have been about thirty feet – from dragonback. You were riding one of the dragons – the green one, I think."
"Rhaegal…" Jon said softly, and suddenly it all came back to him. The sensation of falling. The soaring laps around the field. The excitement on Daenerys' face when he had agreed to try flying… "Of course!"
Arya rolled her eyes at him. "What in the seven hells were you thinking?" she said. "I mean, I can understand why you would want to, but why would you go so high up on your first time? And why here, for everyone to see?"
"I don't know," Jon groaned again, moving to sit upright, but eventually giving up. "Daenerys suggested I try and ride Rhaegal for his safety and mine. I figured it would be better to try now rather than when we go after the White Walkers."
"If the Night King had been there two hours ago, you'd be as dead as he is," Arya pointed out. Then she frowned. "Daenerys didn't force you, did she?"
"No, she didn't," Jon replied quickly. Knowing Arya, life wouldn't be good for the dragon queen is she thought otherwise. "She just asked. She also seemed very surprised when I agreed."
"You're strong, though," Arya mused absent-mindedly, a few seconds later. Then she smirked at him. "Please don't tell me that the reason you lost your grip was because you were too busy staring at her instead of where you were going!"
Instead of getting embarrassed, Jon decided to retaliate. "Well, maybe if you hadn't been looking at Gendry, you'd have noticed the dragon swerve, and me panic and slip!"
Arya rolled her eyes at him again, but did not flush or look uncomfortable. She also didn't say anything; instead she sat down on the bed next to him and looked… sad.
"What's the matter?" he asked her, not accustomed to seeing Arya upset.
"I saw your scars," she said, very quietly. "When Ser Davos and the others brought you back here." She broke off to look at him. "Why didn't you say anything? I told you what happened to me."
"I had every intention of telling you, Arya," Jon told her seriously, for it was true. He had told Sansa, after all, mere days after it happened. "I was just waiting for the right moment. When we got back to Winterfell, maybe, or if we had another one-to-one chat again before then. I'm sorry."
"It's alright," Arya replied, still deathly quiet. "I trust you killed whoever did it to you," she added vehemently.
"Yes," he told her shortly, trying not to picture the scene, or imagine what Arya would have done to them if he hadn't. "To be honest, it was the betrayal that hurt more than the knives."
"Yes," Arya countered. "I can tell. You were Lord Commander of the Nights Watch and you thought you could trust them.
"Aye," Jon agreed. "And one of them was just a boy. Younger than Bran."
Arya's mouth twisted bitterly. "Be that as it may, the fact remains that he did what he did. Regardless of his age, he was responsible for his actions."
"You've become wise as well as deadly," Jon laughed lightly a few seconds later in the hope of changing the subject. "A dangerous combination."
Arya smiled breezily. Then she seemed to remember something. "A raven came from Winterfell, while you were unconscious. I have a reply from Sansa."
"How is she?" Jon asked. He had begun to worry for his other sister. Especially since she was alone at home with Baelish.
"Surprised that I'm alive," Arya smirked. "And that you are, considering where you went and who you met. Anxiously awaiting our return…" she trailed off and rolled her eyes. "All the lady-like stuff. Are you sure she's changed?"
"Yes," Jon replied, with feeling. "Positive. She's been through a lot of the years, just like us."
"She also asked me to tell you that a friend of yours from the Wall has arrived at Winterfell," Arya added.
Jon frowned. "A friend? At Winterfell? Who?"
"I think his name was Sam," Arya said, rummaging in the pocket of her cloak. She studied the parchment she found. "Yes, Samwell Tarly," she confirmed. "He is a friend, isn't he? Not one of the ones who let them hurt you?"
"No," Jon told her. "He was my best friend in the Nights Watch. I sent him to the Citadel in Oldtown, by his request, to train up as the next Maester at Castle Black. He was the one who told me about the dragonglass at Dragonstone."
Arya grinned. "Sounds dull."
Jon smiled too for a moment, before remembering. "Arya, you don't know where Daenerys is, do you?"
"In her tent," Arya replied, indicating the general direction with a wave of her hand. "Why?"
"Don't mention that Sam is at Winterfell to her, will you?" Jon pleaded.
His sister narrowed her eyes. "Why?"
"She seemed upset when his name came up in conversation a while back," Jon told her, remembering the conversation he had had with Ser Jorah. "I don't want her to find out until I know why."
"Fair enough," Arya said. "It must be exciting for you, to see your best friend again after so long. I was excited to see Gendry again after what happened. Surprised that he actually survived, mind you…" she broke off and then lowered her voice. "The queen wasn't half worried about you, when you fell," she added. "She was very distressed." Jon nodded in response, not really knowing what to say.
"Actually, speaking of Daenerys, she said she wanted to be told as soon as you woke up," Arya informed him. "Presumably so that she could come and speak to you. Shall I go and get her?"
"Might be a good idea," Jon said. "If she was upset, it's best that I can reassure her that I'm okay."
"Alright," Arya said, getting up. "I'll be back later. I'll get Gendry to stand guard outside your tent for a few seconds, while I go and get the dragon queen." And with that, she was gone, and in the space of a deep exhale her footsteps had faded altogether.
Jon barely had time to marvel at his sister's agility before another figure entered the tent. All he could register was silver-blonde hair before Daenerys had leapt into a chair next to Jon's bed.
"Thank goodness you're awake!" Daenerys said, sounding breathless, and Jon could see the genuine fear in those deep violet eyes.
He smiled, trying to lighten the tone and reassure her. "At least Rhaegal didn't –" but he was cut off by a horrified gasp from Daenerys. In confusion, he followed her gaze to his chest. He had forgotten to cover his scars…
Mentally kicking himself, he pulled the duvet up a little to cover the red crescent-shaped marks. Too late, of course. Jon looked up at the queen and saw tears swimming in her eyes. He wanted to kick himself again at the sight of her distress.
"That's what Ser Davos meant when he said you took a knife in the heart for your people," she said faintly. "I thought he meant metaphorical, and that one day I would get a story of some heroic deed, or… or something… I…" She was flabbergasted and struggling to put her thoughts into adequate wording. "But you literally did, didn't you?"
"Yes," Jon answered her softly, taking one of her quivering hands on a whim.
"I'm sorry!" Daenerys said, sounding desperate, and a tear dripped onto her cheek.
Jon reached out a hand to wipe it away gently, the same way he had done when they were alone together at Dragonstone. He kept his voice steady as he spoke. "What for?"
"I…" Daenerys gave a shuddering sob before composing herself with a couple of deep breaths. "I remember, the first time we met, thinking you were some high-and-mighty warrior with silly ideas about the world, trying to take one of my kingdoms away. I was mean to you – rude, really – and yet you were honest from the start and I was too stupid to see. You've been brave, honest and kind to me, not to mention selfless, and I feel as though I've done nothing but make life more difficult for you. You've been a good friend to me when I've been upset, and we've worked together so well, like when we thought Arya really was Cersei that afternoon. Yet, that first day I told you my whole life story in short form, trying to show off and belittle and intimidate you, yet you were so modest and down-to-earth. But," she broke off and stared again at his covered chest. "My suffering can't have been anything compared to yours! I've been injured, I've been used and abused, but I've also been protected from most forms of life-threatening dangers. I've never been –" she gestured again.
Jon listened to her and took her words in carefully before responding. "We didn't know each other then," he reminded her. "I didn't know you, and if you hadn't told me what you have over the last few weeks then I still wouldn't. I like the fact that you trust me, it makes for a far better alliance. You haven't made life difficult for me; it was already difficult, besides – you let me mine the dragonglass, didn't you? And you're here now, aren't you?"
"Yes," Daenerys said softly. "I just feel bad for being so… annoying, I guess. At the tiniest thing, I cry all over you like a silly child, I make stupid decisions that end up with you being like this," she gestured to his bedridden state and rolled her eyes. "And all this time, you've had those scars on your chest."
"I have," Jon countered. "It's true. But that's all they are, Daenerys, scars. Aye, they have connotations of bad memories, some of which still haunt me to this day. But the physical pain has passed, and I'm doing my best to move past the betrayal."
She nodded as though she respected his decision. "Can I just ask one question?"
A small smile worked its way onto Jon's mouth. "Of course."
"How are you not dead?" Daenerys asked simply.
Jon did not see the point in evading the truth. "I was."
She looked at him in horror, her eyes still glistening.
"I let the wildings pass the wall," Jon told her softly. "As no other Lord Commander has ever done before. I wanted to protect them, and besides, if they hadn't, it would've just given the Night King thousands of more soldiers for his army."
"And they killed you for it?" Daenerys said, soft as a whisper.
"Aye," Jon replied. "My steward lured me outside and they all took turns stabbing me in the dark. I died. I should still be, but Ser Davos talked a Red Priestess into trying to bring me back, and, well, here I am…" He gave her hand a small squeeze and tried to focus on the deep purple of her eyes instead of the memory. "I don't really like talking about it."
"Then I won't bring it up again," Daenerys promised him, solemnly. "Only one more thing. The Red Priestess, the one who brought you back. Was her name –"
"Melisandre," Jon answered. Then he noticed the recognition on her face. "How do you know her?"
Daenerys sighed. "She came to Dragonstone about a week after I got there," she told him. "She actually encouraged me to summon you… Although, to be honest, I probably wouldn't have done so if Tyrion hadn't talked me into it too."
"Nobody at Winterfell wanted me to go," Jon said reflectively. "Sansa didn't, although she mellowed a bit when I told her she could have the North while I was away. Ser Davos definitely didn't. It's a good job he didn't know she was at Dragonstone, or I can't have promised she wouldn't have come to any harm."
"She left the day you arrived," Daenerys said softly, squeezing his hand. "Presumably for that reason. Why do you think Ser Davos and Melisandre dislike each other so much?"
"Melisandre sacrificed to her Lord of Light a child who was dear to Ser Davos. Burned the girl at the stake," Jon explained. "I've never seen him as livid or full of anguish as I did the day he found out."
"Oh," was the simple reply. "Poor child."
"Aye, she was a sweet girl," Jon replied. "Stannis Baratheon's daughter, Shireen. She stayed with her family at the Wall for a little while and out of all of them she was the least trouble. Kept to herself. Stayed in the library most of the time. Very polite."
"She had greyscale, didn't she? Like Ser Jorah?"
"Aye, she did. In fact, I'm curious as to how Ser Jorah was treated. I heard him say a while back that he hasn't got a trace of the substance left on him, but half of little Shireen's face was covered in it."
"I expect Jorah would tell you," Daenerys sighed. "He seemed to like your friend." With that, she seemed to visibly close off. She gently withdrew her hand from Jon's and stared at the cloth ceiling.
"Sam?" Jon said, his curiosity heightened. "Aye. In fact, Arya had a reply from Winterfell earlier on, from Sansa. Apparently Sam has gone to Winterfell."
Daenerys' eyes narrowed. "Why do you think that is?"
"No idea," Jon replied cautiously. "I expect I'll find out soon enough." He looked at her shrewdly and gently took her hand again. "I noticed, when Ser Jorah mentioned him that you were upset, and now you are again," he said softly. "I am friends with you, Daenerys, but I am also friends with Sam. He was my brother in the Nights Watch and one of those most loyal to me. What is wrong? Do you know him?"
Daenerys sighed again and shook her head. "I don't know him," she said, slowly and so quietly that Jon had a job to hear her. "But I… I knew his father and brother. Except not really. I…"
Jon thought hard. "The Loot Train Attack at Blackwater Rush? You saw them there, didn't you, fighting on the other side?" The answer was in Daenerys' shaky grimace. "They're dead, aren't they?"
"Yes," Daenerys said shakily. "You don't want to know how."
"I think I already know," Jon replied, picturing Drogon engulfing two men in flame in his mind's eye. He looked back at the dragon queen, and he could have sworn he had never seen her look so guilty.
"They were defiant," Daenerys said. "They would not bend the knee; the only two…" she broke off, brooding. "Yet, your friend Sam must be a good man, for you to speak of him so highly, and Jorah – I don't think he likes many people at all, but he likes him. And I killed members of his family!"
"Perhaps it was not the right thing to do," Jon admitted delicately. "I know there are innocent soldiers in battles, but at the same time all those that were fighting without understanding what they were fighting for, or against their will, would have bent the knee." Daenerys did not look much comforted by this, so Jon changed tack.
"For what it's worth, there was no love lost between Sam and his father," Jon told her, hoping the truth would make her feel less guilty. "Let's just say, he didn't join the Nights Watch out of duty or choice. He grew up terrified of Lord Randyll, so I really don't think his death will hurt him too much."
"His brother, though," Daenerys said, as though in pain.
"I don't know much about Dickon Tarly," Jon conceded. "But at best, Sam thinks of him as a brother the same as he does the men of the Nights Watch. They certainly weren't close." He noticed how upset she still seemed. "Look, if you want, I'll tell Sam what happened."
But Daenerys shook her head. "No. I will. It's the least I can do."
Jon nodded, accepting and approving the idea. Then he decided to change the subject.
"Is Rhaegal alright? I didn't pull out any of his spikes, did I?"
To his relief, Daenerys laughed lightly. "No… He's fine. It's you I'm worried about. We were quite high up when you fell."
"Arya told me," he replied. "But I'm fine, see?" He moved his arms. "Just a little bruised. I'll be up and about tomorrow, trust me."
"Good. Apparently the Unsullied have been spotted on the horizon and they should be here by midday tomorrow," Daenerys said, moving closer to move a dark curl away from his eye. Their faces were just inches apart, and Jon was able to marvel again at how beautiful she was up close. Jon lifted his hand to gingerly swipe away another stray tear from her cheek. He stared into her stunning amethyst eyes for what seemed like ages before she moved away again.
"You should get some rest," she said gently. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Tomorrow," Jon echoed, and as Daenerys left, he realised just how tired he was.
Instead of the usual nightmares about the White Walkers or the Night King that had taken to possessing him every night, all Jon could dream about that night was Daenerys' gentle smile and Arya teasing the both of them as spring sunshine shone down on them all. Perhaps the future wasn't so bleak after all.
A/N: Thank you very much for reading!
I know this chapter was a bit dialogue-heavy but I'm hoping you guys won't mind since it involved a lot of our favourite ship.
The next chapter is going to involve jumping ahead a bit, with Jon, Dany, Arya etc. arriving at Winterfell. It will be in Arya's POV and I will get it out as soon as I can.
Please let me know what you thought of this chapter as your reviews do mean a lot and they act as a powerful motivator! (Not to mention that they sometimes give me ideas on things to include.)
Thanks for reading again, see you next time x
