Warg Maiden
Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones
A/n: This chapter is rated M for sexual content.
Chapter 81: Departing
Jon's POV
Jon kept his word to spend more time with his family. He realized he had spent too much time on Daenerys's campaign and neglected his siblings. Lately, he only saw them at breakfast. Therefore, he tried to make things right.
Of course, he spent the moment he was awake with his wife, holding her. Nothing intimate, as he traced along her tattoos, memorizing her face. For he could be gone for several months. He felt guilty, leaving the responsibilities of a kingdom upon her. But he knows the council and his siblings will help.
As much as a warg can be useful in the Last War, Jon does not want to reveal the truth. The siege…if the blockade doesn't hold…then it will be a siege. Even though Imogen has probably seen sieges under the Three-Eyed Raven's training, Jon didn't want to expose her to that madness, especially with hatred and animosity towards the Lannister Forces. The Dothraki, Unsullied, and the Northern armies will deal with the Golden Company.
Meanwhile, the Dornish and Tyrell forces will handle the siege if needed, as Daenerys and Jon on the dragons will handle the Iron Fleet. It sounds simple that there is no need for a warg. As Lord Varys reported, his little birds are still of service.
Not only that, but he knew his wife was tired of fighting. She was done killing. Same as him, only he must do it. He can't remember the last time he saw her train or even drew Dark Sister after the Long Night. There was another reason, as Jon rubbed her belly as she slept. The chances of Imogen might be pregnant. As she was no longer taking the tansy tea. So far, there was no sign, let alone her recent moonblood. However, there is still a chance she could be. They were married, and Jon couldn't stop himself every night.
Therefore, there is a chance she could be with a child. Jon thought about Robb and his wife, Talisa. How Talisa was murdered brutally at the Red Wedding. He heard the gruesome news that Lame Lothar approached Talisa from behind and stabbed her repeatedly on her pregnant belly. It became a nightmare for Jon one night, and only the faceless woman was replaced by Imogen. When he woke, it was quiet, as he found Imogen asleep, safe and alive. He rarely has nightmares, not since sharing a bed with his wife. So, having one of that nature terrified him. Thus, he held her close, trying to go back to sleep. For he did not want to experience that heartbreak again. And when night came, he made her promise to stay behind.
So far, Imogen has been good at keeping her promise. As much as it irked her. Jon always finds a way to appease her slight ire.
Anyway, Jon spent as much time as possible with his family. He spent the early hours with his wife and breakfast with his family. He would do training with Rickon, in which Arya would join. Much to Rickon's protest. Reviewing reports with Sansa and seeing her opinions on handling the supply crises. Then, with Bran in the Godswood, he sees Bran trying to control his newfound abilities as a Greenseer.
Afterward, he would do his rounds of the castle with Imogen. This spearwife, who should have little regard for castles, was determined on the defensive. Sometimes, Jon wonders who he married… she was more mature for her age. The builders worked hard to salvage what was left of the rubble before making their order with the masons to cut fresh stone. It was essential to get the battlements and gates secure. In case Lannister forces marched north. Imogen was firm but not demanding as she talked with the builders.
Gods, he loved her, that she was more concerned for his people…their people.
Jon would suggest things they could do when they were done with their rounds. Most of the time, it was them riding. Even having a race, only Jon once more forgot how fast direwolves were. As much as flying on Rhaegal is exhilarating, he is curious when Ghost becomes that size. Other times, it was a walk through the Godswood. Of course, there was that moment when he pulled her against a tree and kissed her passionately, taking her breath away, and then back into their bedroom.
Jon tried to find ways to spend time with Imogen.
Until one day, as they walked, they noticed Gilly and Sam walking around the courtyard with Little Sam. Any day now, Gilly would give birth. Jon noticed how Imogen was watching them. He wasn't sure what she was thinking. Did she think about their own possible family? Being pregnant? Or concern for Gilly? They barely talk about having children. Other than that, it will be expected sooner or later.
"Something wrong?" Jon asked.
Imogen continued to stare at Gilly, one that was very calculating.
"Imogen," Jon murmured.
She snapped out of her trance, looking at him with a hum.
"Do you really want a child?" he asked.
She blushed, "It's not like…."
Jon arched a brow, in which she sighed.
"I can't get this feeling that something bad is going to happen," she explained.
Jon frowns at this, "Is it a vision?"
Imogen shook her head, "I no longer have visions."
Jon cradles her jaw, "Everything will be alright."
"Will you be alright?" she asked.
"I'll be on Rhaegal," he assured.
"You said that last time and nearly fell to your death," she grumbled.
Jon would have made a counter remark about him coming to her rescue. However, that moment was traumatizing for both of them. They work together to defeat not only the Night King but also Imogen's near death and Fenrir's sacrifice.
Imogen heaved a breath, "Sorry, I have lost so much that I don't want to lose you. And if you don't come back…" she sighed, shaking her head. "It's ridiculous thinking."
Jon blinked a few times, staring at her. Even though they agree to let the gods decide, she still wants his child, which baffles him. Still, they were trying to settle down. Jon knew his wife spent half her life on survival and preparing for the Great War. Always fighting. For him, for the last five years, he was rushing forward with battle after battle. Now, things are slowing down, and they still don't know what to do, as their instincts for a possible threat could be around the corner.
"It's not," Jon assured her, kissing the top of her head. "I'm honored."
But the thought about fatherhood still lingers in the back of his head if he can be a good father. He has seen Imogen with children, from Karsi's daughters, the younglings that come up to pet Skadi and even Little Sam.
Imogen sighed, leaning against him. Jon wrapped his arms around her. One last war. After this, they will be done fighting and killing. Yet it still lingers that being a king and queen might be too much for them. Jon didn't ask to be king, nor did he want it, and here he was. A king who has dragged his wife into his mess. A part of him still wonders if he should step down and take Imogen back to the True North. Only he can't abandon his siblings like that. Rickon is still a boy, as he's currently Jon's heir, except….Jon also sees potential in Sansa. Bran has no interest in ruling and Arya…Jon doesn't know since Arya has become an enigma.
Only time will tell.
.o0o.
Jon was in his study with Sam. After talking with Imogen, she went to Gilly, suggesting they see the priestesses. Gilly obliged, and the two went with Little Sam to the Great Hall, where the healers were. Meanwhile, Jon and Sam went to his study. Jon had opened a bottle of wine, and the two sat by the fireplace.
"I'm surprised you're gonna be a dad," Jon said.
"Same here," Sam replied as he held his cup. "Any day now."
Jon nodded, "Have you figured out a name?"
"Well, if it is a girl, Gilly wants to name her after a flower she saw in the Reach, Poppy," Sam answered with a smile. "She has never seen a flower so red and delicate."
Jon nodded as he tried to think what a poppy looked like.
"Although, if it's a boy, we want to name him Jon," Sam added.
Jon was surprised at such an honor, yet he did not feel worthy, "I hope it's a girl."
Sam chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. Jon did the same as silence engulfed the study.
"Are you sure you have to go?" Sam asked. "It won't be safe….especially…well…you know?"
Jon sighed, " I gave my word."
"Still…" Sam mumbled. "Other than Bran and me…wait…does Imogen know?"
Jon nodded with a small smile, remembering her reaction. She said she had only seen him, not his name or parentage.
"Really," Sam said, surprised. "That's good."
Jon nodded again, taking another sip of his drink.
"Yeah," Jon agreed.
Sam stared at him, "What is it?"
Jon took a deep breath, "It's complicated."
Sam gave him a look.
"Everyone is telling me not to go," Jon said. "But I gave my word, and I will not be a king who hides behind stone walls while his men fight." He took a deep breath. "Imogen senses something is going to happen."
Sam made a face, "Does she still have…that seeing thing?"
"She's a warg, she doesn't have greensight, not like Bran," Jon explained. "Not anymore."
Although Imogen's visions were once helpful in providing answers, he needed…the seizures. Neither of them could handle the seizures anymore. Even though he saw less than a handful, it was too much. So, when Imogen said the price she paid was her visions to capture the Three-Eyed Raven, it might as well be a blessing.
Sam nodded, "Gilly was like that when we went to Hornhill. Women have this unique intuition."
Jon snorted at that, then took another sip of his drink and sighed.
Sam's eyes widened, "Wait…are you and Imogen….is she…"
"What…no…." Jon tried to find his words. "I don't know….I don't know if I can be a good father."
Sam reached over, patting Jon on the shoulder, "Now, don't be a downer; I bet you can be an excellent father. A bit broody, but a good father."
Jon smiled a little, "Thanks, Sam."
Sam pulled back with a smile, "Now imagine if our children become friends and more."
Jon snorted a laugh.
.o0o.
Imogen's POV
I stood by as I watched Boudica examine Gilly's swollen belly. We were in the bed chamber that her family occupied, with a small bed on the side. However, as their family grows, they need larger chambers. I made a mental note to change lodgings for them, one more suitable for the soon-to-be four.
I held Little Sam, resting him on my hip as he watched, playing with one of my braids. There were a few tugs, but I did not mind as I held his hand. I whispered in Old Tongue, trying to expose him to his ancestors' language.
"What are you saying to him?" Gilly asked curiously.
"That he will be a fine warrior, either a sword or by the quill," I murmured, then stopped. "You don't know Old Tongue?"
Gilly shook her head, "Morag, she would sing lullabies, but my…Craster forbade it. He thinks the Old Ways stay in the past except for…for the gods…the White Walkers."
I frowned at this because the Old Tongue was for the clans to speak to one another. Soon, Common Tongue joined our language from the Crows, but it was still our first language to honor.
"Craster isolated you all," Boudica grumbled. "A beast keeping his sheep. How he lived that long still baffles me. Or men not stealing you when the Red Wanderer is within the Moonmaiden."
"No one wants a Craster bride," Gilly said sadly.
Because she and many are products of incest. Either lie with their father, brothers, or close kin shall offend the gods, and as punishment, any child produced shall be weak and sickly. It was one of the reasons that I wanted Boudica to check on Gilly. Even though fresh blood from Sam lies in her baby in the womb, I worry for Gilly's health.
Maybe I was overreacting.
But I want to be sure.
For I do not want more harm to Gilly or the family she has started.
"I wish I knew where my sisters are," Gilly said.
"They are somewhere here," Boudica said. "After the battle of Castle Black, many who did not fight were sent to join my company in the West. I had met Morag as she begged for the gods' mercy for her husband's sins, not for him, but for all the girls. I did the ritual and gave tansy tea to all the women who did not want a Crow baby."
Gilly was surprised to hear it.
"Shall I find Morag for you?" Boudica offered.
Gilly paused, comprehending this, "I need to think about it. I abandoned them."
"You did not abandon them," I said, adjusting Little Sam. "You had just given birth, and you were protecting your boy from being sacrificed, and Sam saved you from being a spoil of war. They would understand."
Gilly's eyes watered slightly, then nodded. Boudica lowered the dress and helped Gilly sit up. Gilly corrected her attire as she stared at Boudica.
"Baby is due any day now," Boudica said. "I advise you to stay on bed rest, drink enough fluids, and be in a peaceful surrounding."
"That's good to hear," Gilly said with a small smile.
Boudica drew her stone knife and pricked her finger, "May I do a blessing for you and your unborn child."
Gilly nodded. Boudica drew enough blood before drawing the symbol of the mother on Gilly's head. She chanted in Old Tongue to bless Gilly for a safe and strong delivery and to ensure that she and her child survived the ordeal of childbearing. Boudica also added pardon, for Gilly had no control over Craster's taboo and let her blood be as pure as any woman's. She then made her way over to me as she drew the symbol of strength on Little Sam's forehead, giving him a blessing and purifying him so his bloodline was not cursed. Of course, like any child, Little Sam did not like it, as he tried to wipe the blood off him while scrunching his face.
"Ew!"
All of us laughed at that.
Little Sam pouted as he curled up to me. I sighed, rubbing his back. Boudica noticed this as she smiled and rested a hand on my arm.
"I see the itch has come to thee," she murmured.
"Ma," I groaned, shaking my head.
Gilly couldn't help but grin.
"Nothing has happened, nor has a seed taken root," I said, setting Little Sam down as he ran over to his mother.
Boudica smiled softly, "My pup, you have been through death and back. Your body will accept when the time is right. Do not rush and enjoy the honeymoon phases of life."
"It doesn't help when my husband will be gone for months," I grumbled.
Gilly chuckles, "You are truly in love."
"Indeed, Jon Snow has stolen her heart, and she does not want him to go," Boudica agreed.
"It doesn't matter, honor will always come first," I sighed.
"Does honor really matter?" Gilly asked.
"To those descended from Bran the Builder, yes," Boudica answered.
I sighed once more.
.o0o.
Dinner was held, as it was the last night before Jon's departure. It was private with our families and our close friends. Laughter and banter were passed around while Tormund tried to get Jon drunk again, to which Jon refused, saying he needed a sound mind tomorrow.
Everyone is trying to make this a good departure. As we were all going our separate ways and all of us were in the same room, it might not happen again. The realization baffled me, and I masked it, trying to appease the others.
Once dinner was done, everyone made their way to bed. Jon wrapped his arm around me, leading the way to our room. When the door closed and locked, Jon and I got ready for bed. A nightly routine before I stripped to my undergarments. Working on the wrappings, sighing when they are free. I grabbed a nightgown and put it on before sitting on the bed, undoing my braids, and grabbing a comb to brush my locks. I watched Jon as he had stripped and changed for the night, yet he stood by the fireplace, leaning on the mantle and staring at the flames.
It was something he did when a lot was going on in his mind. Setting the comb down, I made my way over and wrapped my arms around him, nuzzling his shoulder, letting him know I was there. Jon took a deep breath before taking my arms, loosening the hold before turning around to face me. He cradled my face, kissing my forehead, then my cheek, before gently placing his lips on my own.
Afterward, his palms were on my waist as he gathered the material slowly, exposing my legs until lifting it over my arms. I assisted as the gown went over my head before being tossed to the floor. His hands return to my sides, pulling at the strings of the small cloth. Once they came off, Jon took a moment to stare at me. Staring at all the scars and markings. One hand traced along the markings until reaching my breast, and a low moan escaped. The slight coldness from the air and his touch made my nipples harden.
Jon pulled me in, kissing my neck, as he made his way down my neck and took claim to my nipple. I moaned, resting my hands on him, trying to keep balance. I quivered at the sensation of his lips and beard on my skin as it went down to my core. His hand slithers down between us, rubbing between the folds, pressing against my clit. I gasped, lost everything in him. Especially when he slid his finger inside me.
"J-Jon," I moaned. "Please."
Only he has made me feel helpless in this state. As if I was a damsel, letting him have complete control. I did not want foreplay; I wanted him inside me. For us to be one, tonight might be our last night. Jon kissed his way back up, taking my lips. I kissed him back as our lips molded to one another, nipping at each other's lips, tongues thrashing and teeth slightly gnashing. Meanwhile, his finger continues to move inside me, seeking my wetness.
When I was aroused enough, Jon removed his finger, then picked me up and carried me to bed. He sat me in the center of the bed. He stripped his trousers, his cock already swollen and erect, as he climbed over me, gently spreading my legs. Jon got into position, leaning down, taking claim of my lips. Meanwhile, I took hold of his hard flesh, guiding it inside me while raising my hips.
Jon breaks the kiss, groaning as my body gives him pleasure. I panted, feeling my walls stretch to his size. Tonight was not about fucking, or passion. It was about being close to one another. His hand took one of my legs, wrapping around his waist, while the other claimed my hand, entwining our fingers together. We stared at each other momentarily as Jon began to thrust, setting a steady pace.
I panted, staring at those dark eyes.
My free hand was on his side, and I did not want to let go as we lost ourselves in each other.
.o0o.
The sound of movement woke me. I open my eyes to see Jon sitting on the edge of the bed. Hunching over, lost in thought. I glanced over at the window, seeing it was the early hours of dawn. He and the Northern forces will depart for King's Landing in a few hours. No doubt regretting what is to come.
Slowly, I got up and hugged him from behind. Jon tensed at first, but then he took a deep breath and relaxed, leaning into me. No words were said as I held him, breathing in his scent. I'm trying to remember. I placed a kiss on his shoulder.
Jon rested a hand on my own, "It will only be a few months."
"A few months can turn to several if not years," I sighed.
"I know," Jon sighed in agreement. "But I won't stay for long."
I took a deep breath, for I still can't get this feeling that something terrible is going to happen. I know wars, with battles and sieges, come with a price of death. As the soldiers go through the heat of the battle. But this was different. Maybe it is because Jon has a secret that can start another war. This could be another Dance of Dragons or a Blackfyre rebellion. That Daenerys would either kill Jon or something else. It brought back her questioning Jon's relationship status for a marital alliance. However, Jon was mine. I will not share him.
"What will you do while I'm gone?" he asked.
I nuzzle his neck, "Ensure the Free Folk is ready for departure."
Jon adjusted his head to look at me. " If you need to go to the Wall and escort them there, do it. You don't have to stay in Winterfell."
I gave a hum, "We will see."
Jon nodded, and he kissed me. I kissed him back softly and gently, and after a few moments, I broke the kiss.
"Lay down with me," I whispered.
Nothing intimate, for I just want to hold him. Last night was enough unless he wants sex one last time before we both become celibate for the next several months. Jon nodded as we both got back under the covers and furs. Both of us hold each other.
.o0o.
Jon's POV
Jon mustered all his strength to get ready for departure. He freshens himself up before getting dressed. Imogen did as well before she helped him get his armor on. It was not elaborate on what he had been wearing since leaving Castle Black. Still, it was their way to be closer. Especially when she helped him get the gorget on. Once he got the cloak on, he stared at his wife.
She adjusted his gorget before tracing the House Stark crest, "I probably have to order a new one for you with your crest."
Jon smiled softly, taking her hand, "Hopefully, I will not need one."
Imogen snorted, "There will always be violence. Maybe not a war or a battle, but violence will always be part of life.
Jon mentally frowned, knowing that it was true. He had witnessed it, experienced it, or performed it. Violence was part of human nature. He can only hope that after the Last War, there will be less of it for both of them, even though, as king, he will have to make difficult decisions.
"Let's join the family for breakfast," Imogen said.
Before she could pull away, Jon kept a firm hold on her hand, preventing her from leaving. She stopped, staring at him as he drowned in those silver pools trapped in onyx rings. Her pale skin. Those dark locks were in a simple braid. His eyes then went down to her neck, to the marriage mark. His mark, an outline of a running direwolf, contrasted with the maiden mark, which was the color of House Stark.
This wild beauty was his, and he was hers.
A part of him wonders if this was the gods rewarding him after everything.
Jon leaned in and kissed her. Imogen kissed him back—it wasn't passionate but loving. They kissed for several moments before pulling away. A slight smile lifted her lips. Jon might consider it a blessing in any smile she gives him. It was not like when they first met when it was filled with caution and death.
"Let's eat," he murmured, leading the way.
The mirth from last night was not the same for breakfast. However, it became emotional as Rickon held Jon crying. Jon had to summon his strength to comfort Rickon, giving him a speech that Rickon has to protect the family. Gave a speech that Ned Stark gave about being a man to both Rickon and Bran. Bran also gave a hug, though no words were exchanged. The same with Arya. Sansa was last to give a hug, though it seemed forced, as she was not pleased with his departure. Jon sighed, for it was a sensitive subject.
They made their way to the courtyard for final goodbyes.
"Queen Imogen," Daenerys called out.
Both turned around to see Daenerys in her white winter coat, making her way over. Even though it was not expressed, Jon can sense Imogen's caution.
"Queen Daenerys," Imogen replied.
Daenerys gave a smile, "It is a shame we must depart."
"It is," Imogen replied. "I pray for your safe travel and a quick victory."
Daenerys nodded as she took Imogen's hand, 'I hope you come to King's Landing."
"That will take some time, your grace," Imogen replied, forcing a smile. "And if my husband summons me."
As if Jon would let Imogen return to King's Landing. He tried to hide his smirk, remembering Imogen's reaction to the stench of the city. Although Imogen is a curious person, Jon knows the Southern Court will be a challenge, and the Game played there over power. That is why Jon wanted to get the Last War done so he could protect his family.
Daenerys's smile widened, " Still, for the sake of our friendship."
"We will see, your grace," Imogen said.
Daenerys nodded as she turned to Jon, "I will see you in a few weeks, Your Grace."
Jon nodded, "At King's Landing."
Daenerys nodded as she let go of Imogen's hand and left through the gate where the dragons were. Jon mentally cursed, for he did not see Rhaegal. Thus, he mentally told Rhaegal to keep an eye out. Jon felt a vibration but couldn't quite grasp it.
"Must I really go to King's Landing again?" Imogen muttered.
Jon secures an arm around her waist, "I hope not."
Imogen gave a dramatic sigh. "She can be a good queen if she isn't impulsive and doesn't let her emotions get the better of her."
Jon nodded in agreement. However, that was Lord Tyrion's problem. Not his after the Last War. Either way, they went to the courtyard where the horses were. Jon removed Longclaw and placed the Valyrian blade on the saddle. Ser Davos had made his way over.
"Your majesties," Ser Davos greeted.
Imogen made a face, "I'm still not getting used to it, Ser Davos."
Ser Davos hummed, "You will in time."
Imogen snorted as she came over to the Older Night and gave him a hug. This surprised Ser Davos before accepting the gesture. After a moment, they pulled away.
"Take good care of him," Imogen told Ser Davos.
"I will try if he only listens to me," Ser Davos assured.
Imogen chuckled softly before leaning in and pecking the Onion Knight on the cheek. This surprised Ser Davos, yet he took it as a compliment. This man has done so much for them last year and so. They may have started off as enemies, yet he believed in them without seeing a wight.
"Take care now," Imogen said.
"You flatter me," he said.
"Maybe this will be your chance to see your wife," she added.
Ser Davos grumbled as he got on his horse. Imogen chuckled, shaking her head, for this man barely fears anything but his wife's wrath. Jon snorted, shaking his head, knowing the story as well.
"You're not gonna ride the dragon south?" Tormund called out across the courtyard.
Jon chuckled as we made our way over to him.
"Just a horse," Jon confirmed. "Rhaegal needs to heal. He doesn't need me weighing him down on the long journey."
Even though Rhaegal allowed him to fly with Imogen, the second time he rode afterward, he could sense Rhaegal's discomfort. Therefore, Jon decided to travel by horse.
Tormund scoffed, "You weigh as much as two flees fucking."
Jon chuckled at that.
"I'm taking the Free Folk home," Tormund said. "We've had enough of the south." He then leans in towards them, "The women down here don't like me."
Jon nodded, "This is the North, you know."
"Yeah," Tormund grunted.
"And the Free Folk are welcome to stay," Jon added.
Tormund thought about it, then sighed, "Some are under Karsi's watch. But it isn't home. We need room to wander. I'll take them back through Castle Black as soon as the winter storms pass. Back where we belong."
Imogen placed her hand on Tormund's shoulder, "At least visit us now and then."
"I will," Tormund promised as he offered a hug, which she accepted. They hugged for a moment, then pulled away. "I can't wait to see your pup."
Jon felt the heat on his cheeks as he saw the fluster blush on Imogen's face.
Tormund laughed at that, then said to Imogen, "You should come."
Imogen tried to find her words. Jon suggested she head out to help the Free Folk, not needing to stay here at Winterfell. Noting his wife wouldn't do that, he stepped in.
"I wish we were going with you," Jon answered for them, then struggled before taking a deep breath. "This is farewell, then."
Tormund shook his head, "You never know."
Tormund gave Jon a hug, to which Jon returned.
The Red Warrior pulled back, keeping a firm hold on Jon's Shoulder as he said, "You got the North in you. The real North."
Jon paused, comprehending his words. Tormund patted him on the back before leaving. Imogen would say something when Sam, Gilly, and Little Sam came over. Jon smiled as he hugged Gilly, who was holding Little Sam. Gilly smiled while Little Sam tried to give them a hug. Once they pulled away, Jon messed with the mop of light locks. In which Little Sam giggled. Afterward, Jon hugged Sam, and the two embraced. Five years of friendship and a bond that Jon will forever call Sam his brother. After a moment, they pulled back, both emotional.
"You're the best friend I ever had," Sam said.
Jon took a deep breath through his nose, "You too, Sam."
They nodded before Jon pulled away, heading back to his horse. That is when he spotted Ghost standing there with Skadi. Jon took a deep breath as he petted Ghost, for it may be several months or never before they would see one another again. Ghost whimpered, leaning into his touch.
"You're not taking him?" Imogen asked.
"No," Jon answered, "I need him to protect you."
"Jon," she started but stopped.
Jon stood up and took her hands, "A direwolf has no place in the south."
Imogen took a deep breath and tried to contain her emotions. Yet her eyes had become glossy.
"If I do not…take him with you. He'll be happier up there." He explained. "For if we have a child, he will protect them."
He was still unsure if Imogen was pregnant. There is a possibility after many nights of their couplings. If Imogen was pregnant, and he didn't survive the Last War, he knew Ghost would protect them. That his child will have something of his.
Jon cradled her face, in which she leaned into it. No words were said as he pressed his lips against her own. They kissed, although it was not as passionate as last night. Not while people are everywhere in the courtyard. When they broke apart to breathe, Jon pulled her into his embrace, hugging her tightly. His face buried into her hair as he took several deep breaths, smelling the rosemary and other herbal fragrances. Imogen did the same, except her body shook while her hands dug deep into his cloak, not wanting to let go.
After several moments, Jon rested his forehead against her, his dark eyes staring at those silver orbs. He expressed all his emotions to her, including the conflict he had to leave, for he did not want to go.
"The Lone wolf dies," he murmured.
A tear fell as she replied with a cracked voice, "But the pack survives."
Jon kissed her forehead and then her lips, "I love you."
Imogen swallowed a sob as she murmured, "I love you too."
Jon gave a small smile as he mustered the strength to let her go. They both kept their hands to themselves as they made their way to the horses. Jon got on his horse and stared at Imogen. Unable to resist, she took his hand and squeezed it. Jon stared at her, giving her a squeeze before letting go.
"I won't forgive you if you die," she warned him.
"Then I'll try not to," he promised.
"I'm holding you to it," she said.
Jon nodded, staring at her one last time before he and his company made their way to Northern Forces and Daenerys's armies. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing Imogen standing by the gate with both Skadi and Ghost. Both wolves leaned into her. After all the farewells, Jon realized something.
He was no king but someone who was free.
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