Falling Like ✸ Jon Snow ✓

42| 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔫𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔥

winterfell, the north

— WREN MADE A LONG IRRITATED NOISE THAT SOUNDED MORE LIKE A WHINY CHILD THAN A BEAR NYMERIA THOUGHT. The girl sat at the side of the curled beast, spreading a healing salve over the last of her few small wounds from the battle, and Wren was making quite the displeased face at her mother.

She smiled. "Oh, come on," she teased gently. "It's not so bad."

Wren huffed, nearly pushing Nymeria over with her nose and bringing forth a round of giggles.

"Alright, alright! I'm done."

She placed the container back in her kit, shutting it and slinging the leather strap over her shoulder as she stood. Her hands ruffled through Wren's fur, the bear making a more pleased sort of sound now. Nymeria smiled, squeezing the bear's cheeks affectionately and placing a kiss on her nose.

"Alright. Go explore. And keep out of trouble, hm?"

She stepped back, allowing Wren to get back to her feet and watched her amble out of the courtyard into the fields beyond, the guards closing the gate again behind her.

She turned and began making her way towards the Godswood, and soon became aware of another presence joining her along the way.

"Lady Mormont."

"You must be Lord Petyr Baelish," she spoke without turning, her voice cool. "Littlefinger, they call you, yes?"

His smile was anything but sincere. "My most famous nickname, though I must admit, not my favourite. They call you the Huntress."

"They do."

Silence followed, though he seemed eager to break it, like he was digging for something.

"You know, until the death of your grandfather, I had no idea you were real. A woman at the Wall – a sister of the Night's Watch – seemed too strange a tale. It was only when you ranged North for vengeance that more detailed reports of you reached anyone's ears."

"I see. Well, don't keep me in suspense, my lord. Do tell me what this has to do with you."

He chuckled a little, but she could sense an undertone of nervousness. "Well, I'm afraid there are few nobles I don't know much about, so it is a truly rare thing that I know nothing at all about you, save for your large, loyal companion and your indisputable skill."

"Perhaps that is how I prefer things," she replied bluntly. "Do forgive me, but your reputation of deceit and betrayal precede you."

"Well-"

"Excuse me, Lord Baelish. I'm on my way to the Godswood. But I imagine it is inevitable that we will see one another again."

There was little he could do but offer an inclination of his head, a small, "my lady," and leave her be as she continued on her path into the wooded courtyard towards the Heart Tree.

She set down the wood box she carried when she reached its base, shifting the skirt of the dress Sansa had gifted her to sit amongst its roots. Her fingers traced over one of the knots before her, and her other hand lifted to press gently against the furs covering her chest, beneath which her sacred bear's tooth necklace rested.

She closed her eyes, allowing a feeling of peace to come over her for the first time in a long time as she listened to the leaves rustling, felt the breeze touch gently at her cheeks. She closed her eyes, and she thought of her grandfather's embrace, the warmth of his eyes.

The Watch was never what he wanted for her. Only family. A tiny smile grew on her face. She knew he'd be proud if he could see her now.

°

Despite the reprieve from constant danger, Nymeria had a feeling she'd presently be much happier out beyond the walls of Winterfell with Wren than here at a meeting of the northern lords. It had been a long time since she had to deal with them rather than the Free Folk, who were less prideful and much more fun. She'd forgotten how much she hated lords and their stupid pride.

She sat closest to the head table, next to Lyanna, leaning casually back against the table as she watched the men around them with an irritated expression.

"You can't expect the Knights of the Vale to side with wildling invaders!" Lord Royce was declaring loudly, glaring at Tormund with a distasteful expression.

"We didn't invade," Tormund informed him. "We were invited."

"Not be me."

"With all due respect, Lord Royce," Nymeria spoke up, her tone and stare both icy, indicating anything but respect. "You have no right to speak of the Free Folk. They were bleeding in the mud next to me and mine long before you showed up to claim victory."

Jon stood then from his seat at the head table. "The Free Folk, the Northerners and the Knights of the Vale fought bravely, fought together, and we won. My father used to say we find our true friends on the battlefield."

Nymeria shot Arryk a small wink.

"The Boltons are defeated," another lord spoke, as if protestingly. "The war is over. Winter has come. If the maesters are right, it'll be the coldest one in a thousand years. We should ride home and wait out the coming storms."

"The war is not over," Jon informed him. "And I promise you, friend, the true enemy won't wait out the storm. He brings the storm."

Murmurs and debate broke out all through the room.

When Jon looked over at Nymeria, he found her focus on Lady Lyanna, who was giving her a questioning look. Nymeria's lips twitched with a smile and she nodded, as if in approval.

Lyanna stood, looking out over all the lords present. "Your son was butchered at the Red Wedding, Lord Manderly," she spoke, her voice steel. "But you refused the call. You swore allegiance to House Stark, Lord Glover, but in their hour of greatest need, you refused the call. And you, Lord Cerwyn, your father was skinned alive by Ramsay Bolton. Still, you refused the call. But House Mormont remembers!"

She looked over at Nymeria, who was giving her a proud look in return.

"The North remembers! We know no king but the King in the North whose name is Stark! I don't care if he's a bastard. Ned Stark's blood runs through his veins. He's my king, from this day, until his last day!"

She sat then, allowing the hushed whispers to weave through the Hall like ghosts, debating her declaration.

Finally, Lord Manderly stood. "Lady Mormont speaks harshly... and truly," he admitted. "My son died for Robb Stark, the Young Wolf. I didn't think we'd find another king in my lifetime." He turned to Jon. "I didn't commit my men to your cause because I didn't want more Manderlys dying for nothing. But I was wrong. Jon Snow avenged the Red Wedding! He is the White Wolf! The King in The North!" Unsheathing his sword, Lord Manderly knelt.

Raising mugs of ale, many others in the room cheered and murmured their agreement.

Lord Glover stood next. "I did not fight beside you on the field, and I will regret that until my dying day. A man can only admit when he was wrong and ask forgiveness."

Jon shook his head, looking rather like he couldn't believe what was happening. "There's nothing to forgive, my lord."

He looked around the room. "There will be more fights to come," he agreed. "House Glover will stand behind House Stark as we have done for a thousand years! And I will stand behind Jon Snow," he too, drew his sword, kneeling. "The King in the North!"

Nymeria grinned, pounding her fist against the table. "The King in the North!"

All around, swords were drawn, swords raised as they all rose to their feet, echoing the sentiment. Nymeria and Lyanna stood alongside them, and as she smiled up at Jon, she was certain they could hear the cheers all the way north and south.

She hoped they were afraid. 

A/N:
I loved having her basically tell Baelish to get fucked. Lord Royce too. Idk if this is an unpopular opinion or what, but I never liked him. Anyways. Love u! <3