Jon

Jon stooped holding on to the ceiling of the cabin to keep himself from stumbling as the boat rocked and glared down at the single, rather tiny bed and wondered how on Earth he'd managed not to anticipate this problem. They'd paid for passage to the mouth of the Weeping Water on a ship bound for Widow's Watch. They'd paid a fortune, actually, so that Jon could take Ghost along, but there was little he wouldn't do to insure that the direwolf was by his side.

Still the captain was a goodly sort and he'd given Jon and Arya (still keeping up their ruse as a young couple) the first mate's cabin for their one night journey. He'd been glad to get Arya away from the lecherous gazes of the crew, and gladder still to know that he'd be between her and anyone who might try to act on their impure impulses during the night, but he'd not realized how small the cabin actually was. The room was long and skinny, no more than five feet wide, four of which were taken up by the bed. At the end of the bed there was space at the front of the cabin enough for a table and a wash basin, but absolutely no room for anyone to sleep on the floor.

Evidently undisturbed by this development, Arya pushed past him to lay her pack in the little bit of space that did exist between the table and the bed. She then sat down on the mattress, and began pulling off her shoes and stockings, hitching up her skirts unabashedly as she went.

She glanced up at Jon, giving him a look that made it clear she thought him incredibly dull witted.

"Well, close the door then." She said, matter-of-factly.

"I'll just…ahem. I'll just sleep above deck than shall I?"

"Don't be ridiculous, they think we're husband and wife you can't go and sleep elsewhere."

"Arya…"

"Jon?"

"Arya, I'm doing this for your own protection, what happened the other night…"

"Lies, you're doing this because you feel scared and guilty, not for my own protection."

Gods she was infuriating.

"What happened the other night was a mistake."

She raised her eyebrows, "I agree. You shouldn't have walked out before the lesson was finished, it was stupid and probably less fun for both of us. It's alright though, this time we'll start with you."

She was being her usual obstinate self, but that didn't stop her words from sending a jolt of heat straight to his groin.

"Arya I have to go! You don't understand…"

He turned to leave and she flew off the bed, her hand resting on his shoulder.

"Jon! Wait…" she said her voice catching. "I won't, I won't try anything like the other night, I swear, even though you're being ridiculous. That- that's not why I want you to stay. Or not all of it at least."

He turned back to her to see her shoulders slumping. He'd never seen her look so defeated in his life. He was overwhelmed by how small she looked, how small she was, really. She had so much fire in her that most times you could easily forget…

She glanced up at him then through her long lashes and he felt as if all the breath had been knocked out of his lungs. She really was stunning.

"I'm scared about what will happen tomorrow," she said is a small voice, as if she was admitting to the deepest, darkest secret in Westeros.

He pulled her into his chest, unable to take her pleading look. Arya did not plead, and the sight of her so close to that shook him to his soul.

"Me too, love."

"I hate the plan," she said almost petulantly in a muffled voice against his chest. In spite of the gravity of the situation, he chuckled.

"It's your plan."

"It's stupid. I'm stupid. I should've just killed Ramsay the other night. I could have, too, could have slit his throat in seconds, but it wasn't professional enough for me." Her voice was tinged with bitterness.

"That's not what you went there to do. Besides, then they'd have come for you and Olly immediately, might've overtaken you on the road. You'd never have been able to kill him and get Sansa away without anyone noticing."

"It would have been better than this."

He knew that disagreeing with her was pointless, so he moved on.

"They need me. It's why they've gone through all this trouble in the first place. You're right to think to play that against them. It's smart. And they won't hurt me overmuch before you come—"

"You can't know that! You keep saying that but you don't know do you?" She was glaring up at him, her face set in anger from their argument earlier. "Which is why you should take the blasted Adder's Poppy like I told you."

They'd had this argument already twice today and he grasped her by her shoulders glaring into her eyes sharply to try to get her to listen to him and hear him.

"I've told you already. I'll not be parted with my wits while in their custody. I trust you to get me out, though I'd stop you from doing it if there was any way I could. But I'll not make it any easier for them to get information out of me, Arya."

"They'll torture you for it."

"Maybe so."

"And you think you've nothing to fear from torture, do you? You think you won't want to talk—"

"I've been a prisoner before, little sister. And to men far more fearsome than Ramsay Bolton. I know what there is to fear. But I'll not take the dram, Arya. Best let it go."

She hugged him again, mumbling "not your sister…" and made a noise of frustration against his chest but didn't argue the point any further. He glanced back at the bed. It was getting late, and they did need all the rest that they could get. The Gods only knew what the next day held in store for them.

"In you get then. But stay in your clothes, just in case we need to leave in a hurry."

She raised her eyebrows at him, letting him know he wasn't fooling her with his flimsy excuse for why she should stay fully covered, but complied nonetheless, taking off her bodice but staying in her overskirt and shirt as she crawled into bed. It didn't help as much as he'd hoped, but he lay down next to her anyway, loath to deny her, or himself if he was being honest, what could truly be their last few hours together. He didn't even protest when she came to rest her head against his chest, but instead put his arm around her, holding her close as she drifted off.

Sleep found her easier than he'd expected but he just lay awake for hours, listening to the sound of her steady breathing. He wasn't aroused per say, though he had been earlier, but he did somehow feel hyper aware of her. Though the room was dark enough that he could only really make out her outline, he felt he could almost feel the brush of her long dark lashes against his chest through his shirt. She shuddered in her sleep and he held her tighter, wanting to protect her from whatever evils haunted her dreams, but not wanting to wake her. Her left hand, which was laying on his chest, balled into a tiny fist, tugging his shirt against his skin and sending ripples of feeling down his chest. Hmm… maybe he was closer to arousal than he had thought.

She shifted again, seeming to flinch away from something and he felt his heart clench. It felt as if he was intruding on something private, seeing Arya like this – so vulnerable, so without the steely competent façade she'd perfected in their years apart.

"No!" she whimpered in her sleep. "Jon, no… please."

He flinched as if she'd struck him. Her nightmare was about him?

"Not Jon please. Take me, take—"

Not fear of him but fear for him, he realized. He'd forgotten what it was like to be truly cared for in her absence. He'd always presumed he was unwanted or loathed, before he'd assume to be welcome, even when he had still lived at Winterfell. She had been the exception, her and Robb, though Theon's loathing of him mitigated the impact of Robb's acceptance of him a bit. Her love had been unwavering though, fiercer even in the face of others disapproval. Her mother had hated it. He could live a thousand perfect lives and never be worthy of the loyalty she'd given him unquestioningly from the moment she could stand. And the Gods all knew, he was far from perfect.

She whimpered again and burrowed further into his chest. jon couldn't bear it anymore, and he shifted, coming up onto his elbow and pushing her gently onto her back, shaking her lightly.

"Arya. Wake up love, it's just a dream. Arya…"

He meant to wake her, meant to tell her that she'd better not offer to have them take her instead, no matter how unfair it would be to reprimand her for something she'd said in her sleep. But then her eyes flew open and fixed on him with such a mixture of desperation, shock and hope in them that it took his breath away.

"Jon." She breathed, her hand coming up to touch his face as if she didn't believe he was really there. It was a light touch, not sexual in the least, but loving, filled with all the devotion she'd shown him through the years and something decidedly different, something only a woman grown could give, and he was undone. In spite of everything he'd sworn to himself, and everything he'd said since their last encounter, he bent and kissed her.