Author's Note: It has been sooooo long, but its finally back. Maybe after watching that last episode made me really want to update this story so suddenly.
Snow had halted from the grey overcast; the clouds had finally ran out of the crystals of ice after the rages of snow that kept on for days now. The thick snow had doubled since Amara first arrived, blankets of it were much thicker now; just piles and piles of it that stretched on for miles. And above on the trees that range from short to high, snow would sprinkle down like powder every time a strong gale came whistling through and gave them a mighty shake. Amara watched from the inside since the dip in temperature surely alerted her how cold it was enough. She didn't wish to test the weather for herself since she could barely keep her teeth from chattering indoors.
Jon was sitting at the small table of what would be considered the eating area of the home. His lips were pressed against a bowl, drinking down whatever was left of the stew. He ate like he never had before sometimes and then other times, he ate as if eating was a chore. His hunger must've fluctuated from the medicine and the tea she would make him drink. The tea, for the most part, would fill him like food would've most of the time. Her favorite part of the day were the reactions he would have to tea she would make him. She prescribed him certain flavors based on how he felt; she didn't expect such an array of reactions based on flavors.
Black tea was his favorite. He enjoyed it and finished it to completion with a rather contented look on his face. Sometimes he would lie about what ails him so that he could have it because he didn't like the other ones despite their health benefits. Chamomile was his least favorite and sometimes she caught him trying to pour it into the fire pit to douse the fire at night. It didn't enrage her as it should've since she took the time to make it, but it made her laugh instead. She hid her laughs with a cup of her hand as she saw him whenever he thought she wasn't looking.
"You could've been a Cook." His voice somewhat startled her, her eyes that were absently looking at him gained focus to see clearly. From what she could see now was that he was giving her a half of a smile as he spoke. "You're a better cook than the one we have at the Wall. If we all ate your cooking, I doubt we'd have time to bicker and fight with one another. Sam probably wouldn't even want to leave."
He always sounded rather wistful speaking about this Sam person. How did this Sam manage to leave the Wall in peace anyway? From what she gathered, you stay as a Night's Watch or you die as one as soon as you've taken your vows. That was one of the main reasons why they searched high and low for Jon other than the fact that he was supposed to dead. He also still should be claimed as their Lord Commander since he was still alive or that's all she could really assume regarding to that. Amara hadn't bothered to ask him anything about it seeing as he still didn't come to terms in what he exactly intended to do.
"I wouldn't have minded being a cook." Her shoulders went up and down in a light shrug, "But not for the Watch."
His brow quirked, "I wouldn't have wanted you there either."
"Why is that?" She asked with pure curiosity, "Is it because I do not do well under authority?"
"That and because many of the men there are rapers." He answered rather solemnly, "Imagine how they'd act seeing a woman after all this time?" He paused for a moment, seemingly like he was going to say something more but changed his mind. "You claim you can protect yourself, and I don't know if that holds true or no, but that many men against one of you? I wouldn't want to see it happen. I wouldn't allow it to happen."
Was she supposed to be honored that he wanted her to avoid such a fate? She wanted to be, just for the tiniest of notions, but she was too busy annoyed. She was annoyed by the fact that he didn't believe her words. So her word was not good enough? He would have to see in person just how well she fought? How she could clearly hold her own?
"Should I be touched by how protective you are of me?" He nearly blanched at the question, choking out some coughs from his tea going down the wrong pipe.
"That…" Clearing his throat some more, he hammered his chest with his fist. Not hard enough for him to harm himself, just enough to clear him of this rather troubling, short-lived condition he was in. "That isn't what I meant."
"Then what will it take for you to believe me?" With an inquisitive tilt of her head, she slowly turned to face him with her brows raised and her eyes staring intensely at his own. "Must I prove it to you? I've given you no reason to doubt me."
"It's not that I don't think you can." Placing the cup of tea down on the table to save himself from repeating his last mistake. He began resting his hands on the table before folding them neatly. "I would think you wouldn't want to. A healer doesn't kill people, they save them."
A smile played about her lips and soon, she found herself shaking with laughter. How…cute. She couldn't help but to find him cute then. Like a child, like a little boy who swore he had it all figured out. How does one as old as he actually think so simply? So innocently? Why did the world give people such soft hearts like that? Was it because they liked to break them? Possibly, and she found her laughter quickly dying as soon as it came. It felt wrong to laugh at how naïve his words sounded. He was a good person. He hadn't deserved her laughing so blatantly at him like that.
His eyes were boring into her, a tight frown on his lips and some narrowing of his eyes. He was irritated by her laughing, and obviously confused as to what she found so humorous about what he said. It didn't help that when she finally stopped that she started to laugh again once her eyes observed his annoyed expression. It only made his frown deeper and his hands curl up into loose fists. "I don't see what's so funny about what I said."
"How could you not?" Wiping a tear that pooled out the corner of her right eye, she shook her head in further disbelief. "You really haven't learned anything, have you? Do you know anything?"
"You know nothing!"
Ygritte's voice whispered in his mind like a sudden breeze. He felt stilted by it like he could feel its chill from its nonexistent caress. He was already tired of hearing that; that he knew nothing. Perhaps it was true. He didn't know anything. He was naïve, he trusted too easily, and he believed that things could work and change if someone fought hard enough for it. Believing in his Watch brothers was what killed him. He believed they would see their wrongs, that they would listen to him, that they would fight with him, and follow him justly as their Lord Commander. Did seeing the good out of anything really make a person so stupid? Did he truly know nothing? Hasn't he learned something at least?
"I know that I love you."
His own words haunted him. Out of all the things he knew, he knew that he loved her. But just how much did he? He didn't love her enough to strip away his honor and completely forsake his vows. He didn't love her enough to turn against the very brothers that turned against him now. He didn't love her enough to save her, but he loved her enough to let her body burn in quiet. In the forest over the Wall. He loved her enough to give her body rightful peace in death, but not enough to keep her from death itself.
Jon lips pried themselves apart for a brief second to speak, but he took a quick intake of breath instead. The dark-haired woman was standing before him, forehead pressed to his and her eyes just inches away from his own. Jon found himself unable move from the spot he sat in under her fixed stare. His mind couldn't wrap around why she was so close or what she would need to convey in such little space. Her eyes were searching for something in his, trying to read something that he wasn't sure was even there. He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and tried to think of why he shouldn't feel so nervous. Why did his heart that still mourned and loved Ygritte was beating so rapidly that he thought she could possibly hear it?
"Haven't you learned, Jon Snow, that people are not always how they seem?" There was a scary yet lulling way of the tone she spoke in. It was almost like a melody of a song with a lyric that caught you by surprise and stayed in your head, wrapping around every thought so you wouldn't forget it. It froze him and warmed him, and it made him feel small. Simple words had done all of that in such a short span of time. "You shouldn't put your trust in anyone. Not even I who healed you. Trust yourself and trust none, Snow. You might just stay alive if you do."
With a crinkle of her eyes and her lips curling in a smirk, she stepped back, but his hand snatched her wrist and brought her back to where she once was. Her eyes widened just a fraction in surprise as their gaze remained locked, the nearness she made for augur was used against her. It was used against her for the very opposite effect; one that made her almost fearful. "I trust you. If you really wanted, you could've let me die but you didn't."
"Because I'm a healer." Her answer came quickly, brow raised to convince the simplicity of it. "Most of all, I'm being rewarded. Don't think of me so kindly. I told you before if you weren't given to me in the state the Red Woman gave you to me, I wouldn't have attempted to save you." She told him so plainly, like she was stating the very horrible obvious. She spoke cruel words as if they were sweet, and made it hard for you to soak in that they were insults.
"I don't mind your conversation or presence." The look on her face was of reluctance, like she didn't want to admit that. He would've believed her if he hadn't caught her struggling not to smile. "But you and I will split our ways in a few days time. I thought some wisdom would do you some good until then. I'd like think one day Jon Snow will become someone someday and I'll hear his name in the wind and say 'I suppose I didn't do so bad after all' or something like that."
"You've only just made me trust you more." He didn't even think before he said it and he could tell that she was troubled by that fact. He said it so naturally, without fault. He said it truly, and she found herself pulling her arm as if he were an enemy.
"Then you really are a fool; soft heart, hard head, and too pretty of a face for your own good." His hands loosened and let her slip from his grasp. He laughed at that. When all he hated was being called pretty, he found it funny coming from her though. She might've thought him mad. Essentially, Jon was beginning to think that he might've been. Mad; a madman that trusted too easily and died from it. A madman that never learns. A madman that trusted a woman who told him not to trust her. A madman or more like a mad-bastard. That had been more fitting.
The silence between them now was strange, and he understood why. Jon could guess she had no idea of what to think of him now since they only known each other for a short time. Three weeks he counted now. Within these weeks she learned only a few odd things about him and he only discovered so little about her. All he had was her strange personality that ranged from hot to cold, and sometimes a lukewarmness that she reserved for times where he least expected it.
"When do you think I'll be well enough to leave?" Jon found himself asking. His mind was made all the way up exactly, but such a large part of him was telling him that he needed to go back to the Wall. The stubborn parts of him were much too proud to just run away after all he did; the years he spent, all the blood and sweat and tears he lost and poured into the Watch. Just to simply run away because of this would haunt him forever.
The healer turned to him, her inquisitiveness written all over her face. "Four more days." A specific number? How did she know by just four more days that he would be healed? Like she knew what he was thinking, she faced away to look back at the window as she had done previously. "I would suggest longer, but there is no need. You ought to walk around to bring back all the strength in your legs, the journey should suffice in that. Unless you would like me to escort you to the Wall and we'll part from there."
After the insults, she insists on being kind? Even going as far to giving him a ride ahorse back to the Wall? When she just told him he was silly for trusting? How confusing, he couldn't help but think. He smiled though at her high and low changes. Just attempting to figure her out was a headache within itself. "You would be so kind enough?"
"I figure it would be best since the Red Woman meant to pay me will be there. She said she would come for you and yet she might be tied into other matters. Doesn't matter to me as long as I am rewarded." The disappointed that appeared cut through him like a fine dagger. Amara did not wish to spend more time with him, she sought the concerns of her payment more. Why should he be disappointed was what really bothered him. He shouldn't have cared, but he did.
"Tell me," He began, lips almost daring to close to keep his curiosities to himself, "you are not fond of people, are you?"
Amara snorted, eyes squint as she spun to face him. "What brings you to that thought? Do I seem unfriendly? I am quite friendly, Lord Commander. I just don't see the point with you."
Another cut.
Now he was growing frustrated more than he was upset. Why would she say think or think it for that matter? How could she go from admitting she enjoyed his presence and conversation to saying that she doesn't see the point in friendliness with him? What was wrong with him? With her, most likely. Why did she always take back what she said or act as if she never said them.
Then it suddenly came to mind when she called him Lord Commander. Normally, a Jon Snow or Snow would be said, never a Lord Commander. Why did his title hold any weight to her now? His grey eyes stared intensely at her, the corner of her lips half raised. Jon wouldn't consider them close by any means, but there was something warm or even neutral there. Now it had gone cold and hostile in a matter of minutes.
"I fail to understand what you mean." The Night's Watchmen admitted, "Have I offended you?"
"No, not at all." It was fun to toy with him, seeing that solemn face he wears so often come back with a twinge of irritation glittering in his eyes. Why was it so fun? She hardly had the clue, but to push his button to see how far he'd go was more than entertaining, In some ways, she figured he was the type to hardly lash out. He always kept himself controlled to an ungodly degree; that couldn't be healthy. "Do you take offense to what I said? Do you see me as something more than a healer? A friend, perhaps?"
His lips pried themselves apart, an answer about to be said but he closed them. His brows bowed in thought, concentration, and then he suddenly averted his gaze. Oh, how he confused he was and yet she looked at him expectantly. What would his answer be? The suspense was getting thicker and she wondered if that was a good or bad thing.
Rather than saying anything, he merely scooted the chair back and stood to his feat. With a slight limp, he made his way back to his room and closed the door behind him. Now it was her turn to be frustrated and confused. Why didn't he answer? Why didn't he say anything? Why did he behave like he was going to answer and then choose silence instead?
. . .
Four days turned into two and was about to turn one since it was night. Jon was without her for an entire day and a half and it felt so strange to not see her or hear her personally, but she came to his room, he knew. A bowl of soup was placed on his desk each morning along with his medicine for him to take. She was purposely avoiding from what he could see and he wasn't sure why it bothered him that she did. Was it because of how their conversation ended last? Did she think he was angry with her? He was, in a way, but not enough to say he would ignore her or want to be avoided.
Jon wasn't sure how to approach Amara again. She wasn't the approachable type. Her appearance was intimidating and her words oft mean. Yet he yearned her presence, to hear her speak her mean words. She was only person he knew for these past days that she felt like everyone he knew wrapped into one.
His appetite wouldn't come back, he rather toyed with the food and placed the bowl back down on the desk. Within minutes, he got himself to his feet, opening the door that led to the eating area easily to see and feel that the house had been empty. There was not one bit of sound or any sort of presence to be felt to alert someone that they weren't alone. Jon had looked towards her door, wondering if she was sleeping and that's why she had been quiet. He didn't like the odds of it and found himself too curious to put an end to it all. He clambered his way to the door, opening it with such a quickness that he was hardly sure if he entered her room or not.
It was empty.
The bed was made, no candle lit, and there was nothing that could be considered of value to her. His eyes widened at the possibility that she had left him here. Had she lied? Had Amara really plan to leave him without a word? Had she thought it better to leave him in the middle of the night without a word? Did she think he'd be better off without her now? Was he already well and she was unsure of how to tell him? All these thoughts kept circling and he wasn't sure which could be truth or which was just his imagination running wild. Whatever it all had meant, Jon felt…alone.
Loneliness was something he knew quite well and it shouldn't have stung him to meet its face again. It shouldn't have made him think that he would never know it once he became apart of the Watch, made friends with some of his brothers as well as some of the Wildlings. It should've been a friend that came and went, whenever it wanted to see him. And yet loneliness felt like a stranger that he had to meet and know all over again. That he had to accept it when he didn't want to after knowing what a world without it was like.
Grabbing his cloak, Jon rushed outside with his feet trudging through the snow to see the stars lighting up the night that was without a moon. He had seen not one soul out here and he didn't even see her horse. There were no traces of hoof prints or her own footprints, which led him to believe she left long enough for the snow to cover up all the tracks. She really left… Without a note, without a word, or not even a sign that she would go. Amara was gone like she never existed, almost making him wonder if he had managed to conjure her up in his head.
His head turned towards the Wall, seeing even while being this far. He should leave now, even though it was dark and would not be firstlight any time soon. Amara did not look to return and nor did she think him unwell enough to not go back to Castle Black. She told him it would be better if he walked there, to strengthen his legs back to their normality. 'Why did she offer me her horse if she intended to leave me here?' He asked himself, still confused by being suddenly abandoned. 'Was that to make me not think she'd leave?'
Jon soon turned to look at the distance at the spring she had taken him before. The sudden memory of her awkwardly walking him to the water had came to mind, strange as it was. It shouldn't be a fond memory and yet it was in the forefront of his mind, nearly making him laugh at how she behaved the whole time. She seemed so unwillingly and yet she helped him.
As if he had no control of himself, Jon made his way towards the springs. It was a lengthy walk, one he shouldn't be making in the snow, but he had done so anyway. He had dealt with much worse being North of the Wall, so the snow here wasn't nearly as bad. He had slightly ate something warm, enough to keep him fueled for a while, and so he didn't see the harm in it. His clothes weren't that great in this weather and he remembered the last time she took him there, she gave him her cloak. It wasn't to keep him warm but to hide his face.
It smelled like the sea herself; unforgiving and calm, breezy and still. He thought it suited her, while sometimes it had been so pleasant to gaze upon, it could be scathing. He liked to think Amara was somewhere between them both. And yet he searched for her, a shred of him hoping she'd be at the springs. It didn't come to mind that she could be bathing, which didn't seem to make sense due to the many hours that past. She would've shriveled up had she stayed out there for that long.
When he reached the spring, a sigh of relief seemed to escape him as he saw the healer sitting on a snow-covered boulder, head tilted back to gaze up at the night. At her side, however, was an unexpected surprise. "Ghost?"
Both Amara and the direwolf turned to look at him, her eyes watching the white wolf immediately go to his side as he bent down on one knee to scratch the wolf between the ears. By the time his eyes raised up to look at her, she had already turned away from him. "Why does that not surprise me?"
"What doesn't surprise you?" Confused of what she meant, he watched Ghost nuzzled his head against his hand, not finished receiving the attention he had been longing for from him.
"That you know the beast and the beast knows you." He was hoping that the fact that he came looking for her would've been much more of a surprise. Did she expect him to? Did she know that somewhere along the line, he wouldn't just leave if he thought she had left? "He wouldn't leave me no matter how many times I shoo'd him away."
There was a connection between a direwolf and his master, he knew, but why did Ghost stay by Amara? She was a stranger to him, there was no way of him knowing her, and yet he guarded her? Ghost was not fond of strangers and usually saw them as a threat or someone not worth paying a close eye to and yet he stayed by her side as if he worried to leave her alone. "I raised him since he was a pup." Jon admitted to her, "We've shared a close bond since then." He wasn't sure how he was supposed to explain it to a foreigner. She knew nothing of wargs or a special bond between animal and man.
"Oh, I've noticed." There was a hint of a smile in her voice, "The both of you are quite vexing. I see you share that in common."
Frowning, he could tell she was laughing by the trembling of her shoulders. She liked to laugh at his expense. In some way, that reminded him of Ygritte, who had no problem poking fun at him, even if he disliked it. Strange how he caught glimpses of the only woman he loved whenever he was around her. He wasn't sure if he was intentionally looking for Ygritte in her or if this was his mind trying to keep her alive in efforts to not forget her.
"Why are you here?" She finally asked and he had been dreading when she would. Jon wasn't sure how to explain why he came looking for her. He wasn't halfway all too sure of the answer of that to himself. "Did you miss me?" Flustered, his eyes looked every which way but at her. As if she knew his reaction, she laughed again. "You're too easy."
Gathering herself to her feet, she groomed herself by smoothing out the creases of her robes and removing the snow that clung onto her clothes. Raising her head to look at him, who stood there like was frozen in place. "I thought you left." He finally gave her an answer, clear in what he meant. Clear in the reasons as to why he came looking for her.
Amara raised her brows in surprise before schooling expression to a neutral look. "I considered it. Leaving, I mean."
"Without telling me?" Jon remained persistent in getting his answers. "You could've at least done that."
"I've never been good with goodbyes." She admitted, sounded quite awkward. "I also don't owe you an explanation. I suppose it would've been rude, but I never been the reflection of decorum now have I?"
"You could say that again." Jon found himself muttering, not realizing that he was still loud enough for her to hear it.
Catching his mistake, his eyes widened by a fraction as he noticed the half smile on her face. "I like you better when you're honest. It would be wiser if you spoke your mind more often, you seem like a pushover."
Sighing, Jon crossed his arms over his chest. "And I like you better when you're not hurling insults at me."
"Then you don't like me at all." The black-haired healer had brought her lips to her mouth to create a whistle. In just a matter of seconds, her horse came out from the surrounding woods and towards her, slowing down into a trot when it neared her. "Let's go, Lord Commander. I think it is about time I brought you back where you belong."
