WE MIGHT FALL (J.SNOW 2)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A/N: Probably the last post of 2017 - hope everyone has a fab New Year's Eve

EVERYTHING MATTERS. She kept thinking about when Livia said that; they were going to the Wall, to see Jon - Cynthia had asked that if what happened with Robb hadn't happened, and if she had found out he had cheated, would it have mattered, and she said "everything matters." Looking back on it, Cynthia realised not that much mattered. Everything changed, but nothing changed at all, and nothing minor like that really mattered. Not now. 

She should have stayed, that day up at the Wall, she should have stayed to see him. But instead she ran for the hills, hid from the reality of the time they had spent away from each other and disappeared home to find a more secure life with a respectable man. Love wasn't supposed to be easy, she could remember reading that somewhere in one of the romance novels her and Livia had read as children, but it could have been. It would have been so easy to stand there for 5 minutes, all she had to do was stand there. But she didn't. 

Jon is a bastard.

That matters. 

Jon is a man of the Night's Watch.

That matters.

Jon is dead.

That matters. 

Livia's wedding is in three days. That's all she's talking about, gushing about her hair and her dress, and how she has hired a handmaiden from King's Landing who knows how best to style it for the big day, style it like they do in the South. That's all she wanted to talk about. And Cynthia enjoyed it, as much as she could; it was background noise, it meant she didn't have to think about anything, didn't have to concentrate. Her head hurt from a lack of sleep and crying too much. Everything hurt, actually.  In fact, Livia's babbling was nostalgic, not that it made Cynthia feel any better, but it was a bitter sweet reminder. 

  The cold was not the worst part of the journey, no that honour went to Livia's babbling about weddings and dresses. Cynthia showed no interest in either topic, instead she was more likely to jump from the back of the carriage and place her bets on surviving in the wild than listen to her sister's insufferable choice of conversation. Her mother did not help the situation either, instead she encouraged her eldest daughter to talk of such things, and love dresses and their beauty - knowing full well that there was a large chance of being strangled by a dress if she ever tried to put Cynthia in one. 

She could still remember that day like it were yesterday. By the gods she wished she could go back. Back to Robb, who had become one of Cynthia's closest friends in less than 2 weeks - she'd tell him not to join the war. Back to Ned, who she admired and adored like any friend of her father whom she had grown up hearing tales of - she'd tell him not to go South. Back to Arya, Bran and Rickon. Hell, even back to Sansa - she'd tell her Joffrey's a dick.

Back to Jon - she would tell him she loved him, because she never told him. And never would. 

"Cynthia, we're here." Livia jumped to the window, as excited as she always was when arriving somewhere via carriage. When they got to Winterfell, Cynthia thought it was a childish trait that was on account of arriving at the home of her future husband, but she quickly learnt that Livia did it wherever she went. She loved that about her now, even though she thought it was irritating before.