Falling Like ✸ Jon Snow ✓

61| 𝔞 𝔪𝔞𝔫 𝔬𝔣 𝔥𝔬𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔯

winterfell, the north

— "WHEN I WAS A CHILD, MY BROTHER WOULD TELL ME A BEDTIME STORY."

Before the high table of Winterfell's hall stood Ser Jamie Lannister. The Kingslayer. He'd arrived earlier in the day, unannounced and alone. Now he stood judgement before two queens, the King in the North, and all the Starks of Winterfell. It was no wonder he didn't look incredibly comfortable.

"About the man who murdered our father," Daenerys continued. "Who stabbed him in the back and cut his throat. Who sat down on the Iron Throne and watched as his blood poured onto the floor."

Ser Jamie's expression was not one of pride. In fact, he looked quite ashamed.

Nymeria knew, of course, how terrible the Mad King had truly been. She wondered how much of the hatred the Kingslayer received for that one simple act – that likely saved many lives – he actually deserved. She thought it likely that he deserved very little of it. No man was ever only what others said about him.

"He told me other stories too. About all the things we would do to that man... once we took back the Seven Kingdoms and had him in our grasp." She took a long breath, lifting her chin. "Luckily for you, I had my brother killed years ago. And it is not my place to pass any sentence here in the North. You belong to the Starks now."

Nymeria tapped her fingers across the table before her, tilting her head. "Your sister pledged to send her army North to fight with us."

He nodded slightly. "She did."

"And yet only you have come. Unless the Lannister army has grown quite a bit smaller since last we met, I'd venture to say she lied to us."

He was quiet for a second. "She lied to me as well," he admitted. "She never had any intention of sending her army north. She has Euron Greyjoy's fleet and 20,000 fresh troops. The Golden Company from Essos, bought and paid for. Even if we defeat the dead, she'll have more than enough to destroy the survivors."

"'We'?" Nymeria raised a brow.

He frowned. "I promised to fight for the living. I intend to keep that promise."

She eyed him up and down. "I suppose there would be no way for you to assassinate us one-handed," she mused. "And you'd be a pretty poor spy, walking right in the front gate, undisguised."

"You want to trust him?" Sansa frowned. "He tried to destroy our house and family."

"Do you want me to apologise?" Jamie snapped. "I won't. We were at war. Everything I did, I did for my house and my family. I'd do it all again."

"The things we do for love," Bran spoke calmly.

For a moment, there was silence, everyone seeming to recognise that those words meant something to the youngest Stark and Ser Jamie.

"We don't need to be friends," Nymeria replied to Sansa's earlier question. "But we need every last man who will fight with us. And if he's here to betray us, we will kill him then. I won't punish a man for a crime he has yet to commit."

"He broke a sacred oath, betrayed his king," Daenerys reminded her.

"And if one oath broken in the name of the greater good was enough to condemn a man, I wouldn't be here right now."

Silence fell as the room seemed to contemplate that.

"Ser Jamie has held to every other oath he's sworn, including his promise to fight with us. Even without his army. Even knowing he would be received with hostility and perhaps even a death sentence."

Brienne stood then, moving to stand beside Jamie. "We do not know one another well, Your Grace, but I do know Ser Jamie. He is a man of honour. He has defended me in the past even when I was once his captor. And lost his hand because of it. Without him, Lady Sansa, you would not be alive. He armed me, armoured me, and sent me to find you and bring you home because he'd sworn an oath to your mother."

Sansa considered that. "You vouch for him?"

"I do."

"You would fight beside him?"

"I would."

She nodded slowly. "I trust you with my life. If you trust him with yours, then I agree with the queen. We should let him stay."

Nymeria glanced over at Jon, who nodded. "Aye. I'll agree to that."

She looked back to the knight before them. "It seems you are a guest of Winterfell now, Ser Jamie. I wouldn't recommend making yourself our prisoner."

"Thank you, Your Grace."

°

The door to Nymeria's room stood ajar while she looked over some papers inside. She hardly ever used it for anything else, really. Most of her things were in the room she shared with Jon, where she slept. Her mind was a haunted place; the nightmares hadn't stopped and she wasn't sure if they ever would, but being close to him made them easier to endure.

From behind her, she heard a pair of boots making their way down the hall before stopping in her doorway.

"Your Grace."

Her hands froze in the action of sorting through pages torn out of old books and she swallowed.

"I didn't realise I was Your Grace to you." She tried to keep her voice even. "I am not your queen."

"But you wear the title well."

She finally turned, her stare sharp as it landed on Ser Jorah. "I have experience in dealing with impertinent men. What do you want from me?"

He tensed slightly at the aggression leaking into her tone, not defensively, but rather almost nervously.

"I missed your face," he admitted quietly after a second. "You always had the kindest smile... the world might be about to end. I can't let it end for me without you knowing that no matter what you think of me, I'm never going to cut you out or leave you behind. I never wanted to abandon you. I never would have by choice and I never will again."

Her throat tightened at his words, her eyes burning as she shook her head, diverting her gaze out the window.

"Nymeria-"

"What do you want me to say?!" She snapped finally. "You can't fix this! I can't fix this! No one can!" Tears pooled in her eyes. "Your daughter is gone! She's dead and you're here searching for someone who doesn't exist anymore!"

Pain and regret bloomed across his face.

"Maybe she died beyond the Wall, or maybe it was before she ever laid eyes on it, back when she first realised you weren't coming back. What does it matter?! I'm not the person you loved! I can't be who you're looking for!"

"I don't-"

"Get out."

Jorah watched her with tearful eyes and shaking breath, heart twisting at the truth of each of her words, at the thought that his daughter was gone, that she'd been buried alive in her own sorrow. That she'd been alone.

"Nymeria-"

"Get out!"

There was nothing else he could say, and he knew the longer he stayed, the worse he was making things for her. Without another word he bowed his head, and turned and left.

Nymeria sucked in a breath with a trembling chest, a small sob escaping her as she breathed back out again. Slowly, she lowered herself to sit on the chest at the end of the bed, hands pressed to her mouth as her eyes fluttered shut, sending small trails of hot tears down her cheeks.