Falling Like || Jon Snow ✔

57| 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 𝔡𝔯𝔞𝔤𝔬𝔫𝔰

eastwatch, the wall

— BACK ON BOARD THE SHIP, NYMERIA BARELY LET THE MAESTER OR ANYONE ELSE TOUCH HER. Daenerys tried to insist, but there was nothing she could do, really, when Nymeria locked them all out.

She stripped off her coat as quickly as she could, then everything else, then dried herself quickly with a warm towel and pulled on a loose white dress and a dark fur shawl over it. She was still shivering, but that wasn't anywhere near her main concern at the moment.

As soon as she was decent, she burst out of her room and rushed down the hall to where Jon was laid down, his furs and coats removed, thank the gods, but his lips and places on his skin were still slightly blue.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. A few people bustled about, and she was quick about handing out orders while Daenerys watched from the doorway with a concerned sort of intrigue.

"Bring me ginger, mint oil, harp flower, hot water, clean towels and tea. And wine."

The hot water and towels were the quickest to arrive, and Nymeria set to work straight away, pacing this way and that across the room. Anyone standing in her path was quick to skitter aside at the urgency in her face and her stride.

Perhaps thirty minutes or forty passed before she began to calm. Jon had still not woken, but whatever she'd done, he was looking much better, much more alive.

Finally, she set a few things in a mug with steaming water for tea, took a long drink of wine, and took the blankets that had been warming by the small fire to drape gently over him while he slept.

She sat beside him, eyes full of concern and adoration never leaving his face.

"Leave us," she spoke, her voice gentler now.

Everyone was quick to scurry out.

She shut and locked the door behind them before making her way back towards the bed and climbing under the covers. She leaned against the headboard so that she sat above Jon slightly, lying-half on her side to pull him into her embrace, almost as if she were shielding his body with her own.

"You idiot," she whispered softly. "You stupid, stupid idiot."

She pressed a kiss to his head before letting her eyes flutter shut, the warmth and the rocking of the ship and her own exhaustion lulling her to sleep.

°

When Jon woke, the first thing he noticed was how strangely warm he felt. The last thing he could recall had been falling beneath the ice, the wights' grip on him... and a second dark figure breaching the surface after him.

His gaze slid left, finding Nymeria there, her cheek pressed into the pillow below her, hair splayed out around her as she slept. With each heavy breath, a few strands that had fallen over her face would flutter softly.

They were back aboard the ship, he realised.

There was nothing quite like seeing her face while she slept. The years of cold and pain and death seemed to melt away, leaving her looking very young and peaceful and innocent. A funny thought, really, considering just how much blood was on both their hands.

A knock interrupted his thoughts, and Jon realised the door was latched. Groaning, he pushed himself up, pulling on a robe that had been left hanging over one of the bedposts.

Unlatching the door, he found Ser Davos on the other side, whose expression became one of relief when he saw them.

"Glad you're up and moving again, Your Grace. Is the queen...?"