Falling Like || Jon Snow

52| 𝔞 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯

dragonstone

— NYMERIA FOUND JON WAITING FOR HER WHEN SHE RETURNED TO THEIR ROOM. Darkness had blanketed the sky, and the first stars were beginning to appear. He wasn't even sure she noticed him, wrapped up in her thoughts as she was as she made her way over to the wardrobe, exchanging the top, more constricting layers of her dress for a light robe pulled over her undergarments, the edges lined with lace patterns. He came up behind her as she tugged her hair loose of its braids, his arms encircling her gently and she immediately leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering shut.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly.

She hummed under her breath. "No."

He nodded. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really." She replied honestly, turning in his hold so that she could wrap her arms around him too, her forehead tipped forward against his chest.

His chin rested lightly atop her head as he pursed his lips. He could solve problems like wildlings and the North and the loyalty of Northern lords. He could set his mind tactically to problems like military alliances and the Night King. He wished terribly that he could fix this so easily. But he was at a loss. "What can I do?"

Gratitude burned in Nymeria's chest and for a moment it rendered her speechless. She'd never imagined she could have this. She'd given up on the idea of having someone a long time ago. She'd certainly never thought she could ask for someone so unwaveringly compassionate and here for her. She blew out a small breath. "Just... come to bed?"

She didn't need to ask twice, a small breath of a laugh escaping her when he actually scooped her off her feet to set her down beneath the sheets. As he settled next to her, her fingers trailed over his bare chest, tracing small patterns over the scars there. They weren't ugly to her, a girl who'd spent so many years stitching up horrible wounds that became defined scars. As he watched her face, a faint memory drifted into his mind.

"Do you remember when I came back from the wildlings?" he whispered. "All full of arrows? Half-alive?"

"It's not something I'll soon forget." she replied, equally quiet. "Why?"

"I remember... I remember the infirmary. In pieces. When you saved me..." he smiled a little. "The first time you ever kissed me."

She blinked. "I didn't think you remembered that."

"I thought I imagined it for a while." he admitted. "It's part of the reason I never said anything. That, and I didn't think you'd be particularly happy getting strung up for kissing an idiot."

"You're right." She giggled, making him grin.

His smile faded to deep sincerity after a moment though. "Maester Aemon thought I was going to die. But you didn't give up on me. You never have. Thank you."

"Thank you for not dying."

His lips twitched at that. "Well..."

She gave his chest a light, playful hit. "Shut up."

"Yes, my queen."

She shot him an adoring smile. "You're an idiot, Jon Snow."

His fingers brushed down the side of her face. "You make it hard to think straight."

She hid her blush by tucking herself in closer to his body, relaxing as she slowly let her worries drift away into the darkness. "Go to sleep." She mumbled, though she couldn't hide the smile in her voice.

"Goodnight, Nym."

°

The next morning, they were both asked to the war room. A raven had arrived from Winterfell. Jon knew Nymeria well enough to see how the idea of being anywhere near Jorah again was weighing on her mind, though she hid it well. Her eyes flickered over the man briefly when they stepped inside, betraying nothing before scanning over the others in the room.