Warg Maiden

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones

Chapter 75: A Gift of Nature

Imogen's POV

I woke up staring at Jon, who was still asleep. We were lying on our sides, facing one another, and Jon had an arm securely wrapped around my waist. A slight snore could be heard, no doubt the effect of drinking too much wine and ale.

I thought about what happened last night, how I couldn't ground myself, and went on an emotional spiral. A part of me feels guilty that I took advantage of Jon. For he was somewhat drunk. Yet, I don't know. We were both compromised at that moment.

It was still hard to grasp that the Great War was over. The Night King, the White Walkers, and the Army of the Dead were no more. That the Three-Eyed Raven was gone. That Fenrir, Valko, and many others have died. I was alive, and many were not.

I don't know how to repay the life debt Fenrir has given me.

Knowing my father, he would want me to be happy, to move on, and to live my life as I saw fit.

I stared at Jon, wondering if having a life with him would repay everything. Many thoughts linger about what our future may hold. Would it be ruling the North together or a peaceful one in Lunar Haven? Yet something must be done before the North can be its independent kingdom.

Jon made a truce with Daenerys. House Stark must support Daenerys's claim to the Iron Throne and aid her in the war to keep the peace and let the North be its own kingdom. It seems so simple. Only the men are tired and traumatized. The battle against the Army of the Dead was no simple task, with magic and dragons involved.

Then, I recall how Daenerys reacted during the feast.

Daenerys has undoubtedly lost a third of her men, and how everyone acted during the feast. Everyone gave praise to Daenerys, even Tormund, which is rare. Yet the praise was soon shared with Jon. Followed by her asking me what my award should be. As I announced, the North would be its own independent kingdom, and there would be peace between the Northerners and the Free Folk. I didn't realize it then, but now I think about it. I just secured the North, which will never be part of the Seven Kingdoms, preventing Daenerys from any chances of her getting the kingdom back to the fold.

Jon sanctioned the peace, yet Daenerys makes the offer; therefore, she, too, sanctions it.

Hopefully, there will be peace that the blood of the First Men will no longer be separated. I doubt the Free Folk would venture south. There may be a few, but the majority will return to their lands and hopefully grow. If not, many are taking refuge in the abandoned villages along the Wall. However, there might be two issues that the Free Folk may not face if they stay in the North. They can not kill someone as a means to solve a problem. And no wife stealing.

That will be one conversation I'll be dreading.

Still, I try to think of my future.

Then the Three-Eyed Raven's voice echoed, "Your life will be lonely. For you will not find what you seek."

I clenched my fists, shaking the thought away.

I'm not alone.

I'm not alone.

I'm not alone.

I have Boudica, Ethan, and Aiden. Skadi. Tormund. And…Jon. I have Jon, his family, and Ghost. Followed by the future with our possible family. If not, our surviving friends, with Sam, Gilly, and Little Sam. I'm not alone. My life will not be lonely.

It's just an empty promise, I thought to myself. A trick. A silver tongue trick.

Jon's arm tightens around me. Snapping me out of my train of thought and looking at him. In his sleep, Jon seemed to be at peace. No longer thinking about battles or brooding. He can finally be at peace with only one more war, possibly one more battle. No longer will he have to fight for other means. No longer having to kill countless men on the battlefield.

We do not like to fight or kill, even though we are good at both.

We were both trained for war.

It was in our blood.

Slowly, Jon opened his eyes with a vacant stare. I stare back, giving a small smile, letting him wake. After a moment, he groaned, pulling me flush against his body.

I chuckled softly, "Splurge too much?"

"How are you not hungover?" he grumbled.

"I didn't drink the wine," I murmured, keeping my voice low. "Let alone I was spiraling."

Jon tightened his hold on me as if trying to keep me grounded again. I relaxed, appreciating the gesture. However, I still felt guilty.

"I'm sorry about last night," I whispered.

He lifted his head, staring at me, confused.

"I took advantage of you."

Jon sighed, "I wasn't that drunk."

I stared at him. We made an agreement that when we are intimate, we are equals. We should not pressure each other if one is not willing. And yet, Jon seemed fine with the fact I used him. It didn't sit well with me. Unless this was some sort of Andal or male thing, to accept a woman who wanted sex.

Men, I thought bitterly.

"Stop thinking," Jon muttered. "Your thinking is hurting my head."

I snorted, shaking my head; then I remembered something and smirked.

"What?" he yawned

"Wild beauty," I murmured. "When you are drunk, you compliment me a lot."

Blush dusted his cheeks. I giggled slightly, leaning into him. Jon grumbled as his hand went to my ass and squeezed a cheek, causing me to gasp. He chuckled, then sighed, still exhausted from everything. We lay like this for some time, his hand tracing along my spine and twirling my hair. I watched him, careful with my touch, still seeing the bruises that decorated his upper body.

"Do they still hurt?" I asked softly.

Jon sighed.

I frowned at this; even though he did not break a bone, the extent of his bruises was severe. Usually, ice on the wound can help alleviate the pain and reduce the swelling. Certain salves can help as well.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

"How to treat your bruises," I answered.

"They will go away in time," he assured.

I rolled my eyes, giving a firm tap in which he groaned.

I got up and asked, " Were you given bruise salve, or have you been applying ice?"

Jon sighed as he lay on the bed, "On the dresser."

I nodded, got out of bed, and made my way over to the dresser, finding a canister. I opened it to see the salve. Bringing it up to my nose, I inhaled, noting the arnica with beeswax and some sort of oil. I brought it over, though I noted that since we had sex, it was best to wash before applying it

"Let's wash up before I apply this," I said.

Jon complied as I poured a basin of water into a bowl. We washed up before putting on our undergarments. Afterward, Jon sat down as I gingerly applied the salve to his skin. On occasion, Jon would groan or hiss. But this man is so selfless that he would neglect himself so others would be cared for.

After some time, I applied the salve, where I could see a bruise on his skin. Just as I was about to close the canister, Jon took hold of it and moved my hair to the side before applying the salve to my neck. I closed my eyes, trying to relax, knowing my neck had some dark shades where the Night King choked me.

Once Jon was done, he set it down and rested his forehead against my own.

A moment of peace.

One, I hope we have many more.

.o0o.

I entered Boudica's room, finding her awake. She sat by the fire with Skadi next to her as she combed her fingers through the black fur. Sorrow was written in her eyes—the longing for Fenrir and the acceptance that he was gone. The Free Folk, mainly the men, do not live to old age. Women do if their tribes have formed a secure community—unless they die on the birthing bed or out as spearwife.

Boudica knows this, yet it is never easy when it is one's own husband. I came over, and Skadi scooted away. I kneeled before my mother and rested my head on her lap. Boudica sighed, yet I couldn't detect what kind of sigh it was. Instead, she undid my braids and combed her fingers through my hair.

"You have your father's hair," she murmured, then lifted my head to look into my eyes. "And his eyes."

I smiled slightly, knowing that was a compliment.

"It's a shame that soon you will be taken away from me too," she quietly said.

I took her hands, "What do you mean?"

"Your heart has been stolen. Therefore, you must go to the man who has stolen your heart," she explained. "The full moon is fast approaching."

I shook my head, "Jon has not given me a flower. You still have time with me, mother."

Boudica shook her head, "Battles and wars make men realize how short life is. I wouldn't be surprised that in the coming months, Dires who are courting will be married soon."

I nodded, then sighed, resting my head on her lap.

"What's wrong, my pup?" she asked, combing my hair.

"I don't know what to do anymore," I answered. "All I saw was death and wandering in the afterlife with our ancestors. With Ygritte and the Children. Papa gave me this life, and I do not know what to do."

Boudica sighed, "The unknown is a scary thing. For if there was no threat of a second long night, nor the Three-Eyed Raven…I would have trained you to be a priestess, or you have your own branch of the Dires. But now…" she lifted my head. "A king has taken your heart. Thus, you will be a queen. One who will unite the Northerners and the Free Folk together."

I snorted, "Me a queen? I will probably be the worst queen the Northern Lords have ever seen."

Boudica chuckled slightly, "A wild queen with a heart of gold and hands that are stained red. Never let the Southerners forget that."

I took a deep breath.

"And if things do not go as planned, you and your own family will have a place in Lunar Haven," she added.

I stared at her.

Boudica smiled sadly as she cradled my face, "When our people have recovered, we are returning to Lunar Haven."

I bowed my head, my eyes watery, in the realization that my brothers and mother would no longer be here. Everything was happening so fast, and we would be going our separate ways.

Boudica adjusted me to look at her, "Do not take this as the end. For I will have the stain your marriage mark and be there to deliver your children."

Heat filled my cheeks, "Ma!"

"Speaking of which," she traced the fresh mark on my neck. I blushed again. "You know, once you wed, you can no longer take tansy tea."

I know I need to drink some tansy tea. It brought back the conversation Jon had when sailing back to the North. How he feel about a child having a bastard name? Especially his own. The Andal customs truly have no regard for anything. For I would not see our child as a bastard if we did not wed right away. Also, at the time, I took tansy tea because I did not want to get pregnant during the time of war. However, in the Dire customs, once a couple is married, the wife will have to stop taking tansy tea, with the exception of rape.

"Let me brew you a cup," Boudica murmured.

I sighed, getting up and offering a hand to Boudica. She accepted as she went to the main room, prepping the cup. I stood there watching her, grasping the fact that things were changing. Changing rapidly. That in a few moons cycle or so, the Free Folk will be heading back to the True North.

I went over to the window, opened the glass, and shuddered to let fresh air in. The cold wind was welcoming. I closed my eyes, clearing my mind, when flapping could be heard. I opened my eyes to see the peregrine falcon that Fenrir had used.

My heart tightened as its beady eyes stared at me like the water in a dark pond. Black, grey, and white feathers all around its body, with a white belly. The only color contrast was the yellow around its black beak and his feet. I was confused, wondering why the peregrine was here. There was no warg inside it. Nor do I sense a human soul.

The peregrine twisted its head, staring at me.

Curious, I offered an arm, which the bird got on.

I was about to warg when the peregrine rested his forehead against my own. My eyes widened as I moved it away. For that is what Fenrir did. With hope, I warg into the peregrine, hoping Fenrir was there. Instead, all I saw was myself staring at the bird. Disconnecting, I sigh, scolding myself for such nonsense.

Boudica came over as she petted the top of the peregrine's head, "I know you say you will take time to mourn over Frigg. However, it would give me comfort if you bond with Fenrir's peregrine."

My heart tightens.

"Please, for my sake," she nearly pleaded.

I sighed, staring at the peregrine, "Did Pa ever name him?"

Boudica shook her head, "No, my dear."

I sighed, trying to think of a good name to complete the bond. Frigg was stubborn as I went over the list of names. I tried to think of one to honor Fenrir but did not use his name. For that, the name will be saved for a child.

"Wynn," I declared.

The peregrine stared at me, taking in his name.

"Wynn," I repeated.

The peregrine paused, taking the name into consideration, and nodded.

I smiled a little.

.o0o.

Jon's POV

Jon did his usual rounds and checked on the reconstruction. A lot was on his mind, and having a greasy breakfast helped with his hangover. Yet loud noises, mainly shouting. As if he hadn't been drunk before, remembering him with Robb and Theon sneaking off to the Winter Town's tavern or the brothels. Only he did not have a whore nursing his hangover.

Still, he needs to be careful of his drinking. Or at least not have Tormund pressure him to drink to excess. How Tormund does it is a mystery beyond itself.

After doing his rounds, he roams the grounds with Ghost by his side. Construction will take up to five years. It didn't help that it was winter and the possibility that the Crown's army may lay siege. Therefore, Jon needed to get Daenerys on the Iron Throne, and Cersei dealt with. Only Jon needs to convince Daenerys not to rush into battle. Not when many are wounded or recovering.

If not traumatized.

Even now, Jon can get the image of his fallen comrades resurrected with those blue eyes.

Now he understands why Imogen was mad at him when he announced his alliance with House Targaryen. Jon hopes he can postpone everything until everyone is battle-ready.

Thinking about Imogen last night and what has been lingering until now. He promised himself that if he were to survive, he would take the next step in the courtship.

Jon took a deep breath as he made his way to the glass garden and entered. Thankfully, it was not destroyed. Otherwise, they would have lost so much produce. Ghost followed him as they walked the aisles, careful where they stepped as they went to the floral sector.

A gift of nature.

Imogen had mentioned a few flowers blooming in Lunar Haven from snowdrops and another that he can't recall from the top of his head. Flowers were not Jon's thing. But he did know one flower was mentioned that would hold significant importance. He went over to the rose bushes, specifically winter roses, as the blue stood out from the green.

He was told that winter roses were Lyanna Stark's favorite flower for its scent. Jon took a deep breath, noting it did not have an overwhelming fragrance. It was subtle, if not soothing.

After everything that had happened, Jon was ready. Be damn as he may be. He did not care if the lords of the North disapproved of the match. He can make a political alliance to show good faith with the Free Folk. If the lords refuse, then Jon will be willing to step down. Then again, it was tempting. Just leave it all. Other than a secret location and the dangers of travel, Lunar Haven sounded peaceful. No politics. No power struggles. Maybe the occasional feuds with other clans.

Jon was done fighting.

Done with war and politics.

However, he had one war left. One he promised to Daenerys for the alliance. He was still scolding himself for that. Just one more war and all will be over.

The North and the Southern Kingdoms.

One more war.

So why was he getting this gut feeling?

Jon sighed as he stared at the blue roses.

These were not like the common roses, making them rare. He assumes there was some sort of symbolism to it. He looked around, trying to find at least one flower. Gods, they all look the same. No wonder the Dires made this a challenge. Men are horrible at this…picking flowers.

Until Jon spotted one winter rose that was different from all the rest. Its shade was not a deep blue but lighter, similar to the war paints that Imogen wears. Carefully, Jon plucked it. Hopefully, this will make her accept.

Now, he needed to figure out how to give this to her. The first gift was a coincidence, for he did not know that chainmail was considered a gift of protection. Accidentally starting the courting rituals. Of course, Imogen ignored it, though she accepted the gift, knowing the value it held for their friendship. The bracelet, for sentimental, did not go as expected, as their emotions were high, and both of them tried to grasp their feelings for each other.

Now, this flower will be the last gift, and hopefully….

Fuck, Jon was feeling like a romantic again. He mentally prays to the gods that the bards don't write anything like this.

Ghost gave a canine chuckle, in which Jon rolled his eyes before petting the albino direwolf on the head. Securing the flower, Jon made his way out with Ghost. Jon tried to find the words to tell Imogen. It was a struggle. He wonders how he can give speeches to motivate people and honor those who have fallen. But can't find the words to express his feelings to the woman he loves.

Seven Hells, Jon thought.

He definitely did not inherit Rhaegar's charms. Jon stopped as he thought about his biological father. Ever since discovering his parentage, he focused more on his mother, Lyanna Stark. How he inherit her coloring, grey eyes, and dark hair? What could he have inherited from his father, then the dragon's blood, that allowed him to bond with Rhaegal? He heard stories of Rhaegal being an excellent swordsman…but Jon did not want to think that. For he wanted to believe he had earned his skill.

Jon sighed, wishing he could understand why his parents did what they did.

Was it all for love or something else?

It doesn't matter anymore.

Jon made his choice.

Knowing that he was not a bastard was enough.

"Jon," Sam called out.

Jon mentally cursed as he tried to hide the flower behind his back. He turned to face Sam, who was walking with Little Sam. It was surprising how much the boy had grown, being a toddler, though he forgot how old.

"Sam," Jon replied, then glanced at the boy. "Little Sam."

Little Sam smiles, then glances at his adopted father.

Sam gave a hesitant smile, "How are you doing?"

Jon tried to find his words, "…overwhelm."

Sam nodded, "I get it."

Jon could only nod.

"Thank you…for saving my life," Sam added.

Jon paused, trying to understand what he meant. Then, in his adrenaline haze, he remembered that he had saved Sam from being torn by wights during the battle.

"It's what we do," Jon assured.

Sam nodded, then sighed, "It's hard to believe Edd is gone. He…he died saving me. It seems everyone dies trying to save me."

"Don't think that," Jon told him. "You know Edd would save any brother of the Night's Watch."

Then it dawned on Jon. Sam was the last brother of the Night's Watch. Everyone was dead in all three castles. If there were any survivors, then they must have deserted. Other than that, it was only Samwell Tarly. A young man, forced to join because of his father's pride or be hunted down like an animal. All because Sam did not fit Randyll Tarly's expectations.

"Are you still considering being a Maester?" Jon asked.

Sam paused, comprehending this, "I…I do not know. I can't abandon my family…but I can't…"

Jon sighed, placing his hand on Sam's shoulder. "The Night's watch is no more. If you stay in the North, I shall pardon you."

Sam's eyes widened when hearing this.

"I'm going to need a small council or just a council in general. I can use you as one of my advisors," Jon offered.

Sam blinked a few times and smiled, "Thank you."

Jon nodded with a smile.

"Blue!" Little Sam shouted happily.

Jon mentally curses for having exposed the winter rose. Sam followed Little Sam's gaze, seeing it as well. A rare, confident, knowing smirk lifted Sam's lips.

"And who is the lucky lady?" Sam teased.

Jon tried to find his words, realizing he had not told Sam about his relationship with Imogen other than their families and a select few. Heat filled his cheeks. He was still fumbling with his words before groaning as he muttered.

"Imogen."

Sam's eyes widened, "Really?"

Jon bobbed his head, embarrassed, now knowing how Sam felt when confronted about losing his virginity to Gilly.

"The Dire traditions," Jon muttered, keeping his voice low. "I…I plan on marrying her soon."

Sam went silent, except it didn't stop the massive smile on his face.

"I'm glad," Sam murmured.

Jon sighed in relief, yet not wanting to be the only one flustered, he asked, "When are you going to ask Gilly?"

Seeing Samwell Tarly's face bright red as a berry made Jon laugh.

In which Little Sam laughs as well.

.o0o.

Jon would find Imogen out in the field. He had asked around until many gestured to the field where the funeral was. Jon took a deep breath and made his way over.

Imogen was standing at the funeral on the north side of Winterfell. There were not many people out. To which Jon was thankful for. Then again, further out, were the dragons. Rhaegal and Drogon huddle up to one another, resting.

Nerves were stirring inside him. He shouldn't be nervous. Barely a week, he fought in the Great War. And somehow, he was anxious to give Imogen a flower. Then again, this was the final step in the Dire's Courtship. Even though they had been courting for a few months, they knew each other longer.

Once he gives the flower, they'll be wed the next full moon. They will agree on a place and accept one another. The full moon was around the corner, although Jon was willing to wait longer. After everything, his perspective on life has shifted in the last five years.

With a deep breath, Jon stood beside Imogen. Just as he was about to speak, he stopped, realizing she was warging with her arm sticking out while her other hand was in Skadi's fur. Curious, Jon looked up and saw a bird flying. He waited, turning his attention to the dragons.

Rhaegal was lying on the ground, dozing off. Many wounds covered the green dragon's body, especially his wings, as one had a tear in the membrane. In other words, Rhaegal was in no condition to fly right now after battling with Viersion and tearing him apart. Jon can sense through the bond that Rhaegal is upset. No doubt from destroying his brother. Drogon seemed to be comforting Rhaegal and providing warmth.

Suddenly, flapping could be heard as a peregrine falcon landed on Imogen's arm. In a quick moment, the falcon's silver eyes turned black. Imogen gasped, returning to her body, then sighed. She took another deep breath and set the falcon on her shoulder.

"New bird?" Jon asked.

Imogen nodded, though sadness could be noted in her expression. "He was Fenrir's. Boudica wanted me to have him."

Jon nodded, trying to find the right words.

"Falcons are different from the others," she explained. "eagles can soar high. Owls are quiet in flight. But falcons, they are fast. I need to get used to the speed. If Wynn and I adjust to one another."

"Wynn?" Jon asked.

"It has many meanings, overall... it means joys, especially in the small things in life." She murmured as she petted the falcon's side.

They were quiet momentarily, staring at the field with the dragons. A lot was going on. Jon started second-guessing. Wondering if it was too soon.

"My mother is planning the Dires departures in a few months, giving our people time to recover," she announced. "The other clans will follow."

Jon tried not to frown, wondering if it meant Imogen would be leaving, too. Should he let her go after everything that had happened to her if she desired to join her family?

"Are you planning on leaving?" he asked.

Imogen shook her head, "There are going to be some Free Folk who may find the North better than beyond the Wall. So I will stay to ensure they are accustomed to here. Along with understanding the laws here."

Jon mentally sighed in relief.

She looked at him sincerely and said, "I hope one day I can bring you to Lunar Haven, to a land where spring and winter meet."

Jon smiled a little, "I would like that."

As the Dires rarely let outsiders into their sanctuary.

Jon slowly and carefully took the winter rose, presenting it to her. Those silver eyes widen when seeing it. As her pale cheeks dusted in pink. For a moment, Jon thought she was going to reject. Instead, she took the blue rose. She expressed something that Jon barely sees and could not put into words.

"I'm not asking you to be my consort," he murmured softly, taking her other hand. "But will you be my wife?"

She blinked a few times, as her eyes watered, before gesturing to Wynn to get off. The falcon took off. She brought the rose to her face, taking a deep breath, smelling its fragrance. Jon wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not. She mentioned that Winter Roses held some sort of importance. More than snowdrops.

"Are you sure?" she asked. "Your people won't approve of a wildling as their queen."

Jon wrapped his arm around her waist, "Then they must accept it or choose a different ruler."

Her eyes widened when hearing this, "You would abdicate for me?"

"Aye, and many things," he murmured. "If you have me."

Imogen stared at him, contemplating the manner in which Jon waited. Knowing what she decides will give them a future or end everything, he knew there was much he needed to learn about the Dires and their customs. But he was willing to learn. After what felt like a century, she nodded.

Jon couldn't help but give his crooked smile, taking the winter rose out of her hand and placing it in her hair. Afterward, he leaned in, giving her a kiss. She kissed him back as one of her hands cradled his jaw. They kissed for a moment before a rumble could be heard.

They pulled back, seeing their audience with the direwolves and the dragons.

Imogen chuckled, redirecting him as their foreheads were pressed together.

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