Game of Thrones - One Shots/Imagines: Part Two (Completed)

Beric Dondarion X Reader - You Mean the World to Me

A/N- Whilst writing this imagine I was listening to the stunning song You Mean the World to Me by Freya Ridings. I absolutely love the song and hope you all enjoy what it helped me to create. (WARNING: This imagine contains spoilers from Season 8, but it's nothing too important.)

The north was just as gloomy as your husband had described when you were in King's Landing. You were a true southern girl, born and raised within a days ride of the capital, and you had never been further north than the Riverlands. Of course, your husband had always been one to travel; he had almost a decade on you, age-wise, and had spent much of his youth galavanting around with his friends, seeking out battles wherever he could find one.

You had always assumed that you had been lucky, being married to Beric. He was kind and handsome, and he loved you more than you had ever imagined would be possible with an arranged marriage. In fact, you loved him too, you had from the moment he had first smiled at you, that sweet crooked smile that set your heart to beating a little too fast.

But now, riding north, you were alone. You had known that Lord Stark had been sending your husband to his death when he set him after the Mountain, you both had, and yet there was nothing that could be done to stop it. The King's hand had given Beric an order and off he had gone, with his men in tow. He had never returned; you had expected as much, and yet you had still been utterly heartbroken.

King's Landing had remained your home for a long while after Beric was gone. It was the only place you could consider home and you had become fast friends with Sansa Stark. The girl was far smarter than anyone seemed to know, and you came to enjoy listening to her speak on whatever topic she chose. Of course, you knew of her treatment in the capital, and you wished you could do anything to protect her, but it seemed useless. Soon enough, she too was gone, having disappeared after the King's death, and you were alone once more. After that, King's Landing had become less welcoming to you.

When you heard of the Stark's taking back Winterfell, you were quick to leave. You had saddled a horse one morning, taking only the essentials, and began riding away from the last semblance of comfort you would know for a long while.

Winterfell was darker than you had imagined. Even Beric's descriptions were not enough to prepare you for how dull the world seemed so far away from your home. Everything was dampened by a thick layer of snow, every sound seemed less clear than it would be anywhere else, and the light looked as though it was constantly fighting to penetrate through the impassable barricade of clouds.

You were greeted at the gates by Sansa, who was positively beaming when she reached you, her smile lighting up the dim space surrounding her. Her brother was close at her side, though he seemed slightly less excited at the prospect of meeting you.

"Y/N," Sansa cried out as you climbed from the saddle, rushing to her to pull her into a tight, lingering hug. "I've missed you," she added softly, and you nodded your understanding as you began to lightly pet her hair.

You grinned, moving to cup her red cheeks in your hands. "I've missed you too," you answered, releasing her face and pulling her into another quick hug. When you separated, you smiled sweetly at her brother. "You must be Jon," you started, "Sansa spoke quite fondly of you in the Capital. It's good to finally meet you."

"And you, my Lady."

*Time Skip*

You spent much of the next few months helping as much as you could around Winterfell. Whether you were dishing out food or mending torn clothing, you wanted to be as useful as possible, given the situation.

Jon had doubled his army, a feat that you were all very impressed with, but it had only seemed to put Sansa more on edge than she had already been. The Stark's did not have the food to feed all of these extra troops, and you could already tell that there was a lack of trust towards the Targaryen girl. Safe to say, you were trying your best to stay out of the political side of Winterfell, you had had quite enough of that in King's Landing, and it was enough to last you a lifetime.

You were ferrying the tunics you had been working on back to the laundry when the gates opened; you always found your chambers a much easier place to work, without the prying eyes of the other women constantly watching you. A group of men came riding through, all heavily cloaked to shelter from the cold. You paused, glancing over at them as Jon moved to pass you, a smile fixed on his face as he picked up speed, only for one of the men to launch himself at him, drawing him into a tight hug.

You were watching on, a small smile fixed on your lips when you felt the stare focusing on you. You looked around you, searching for your watcher, but your brow furrowed when you found the perpetrator. He was familiar, but now, with a patch over his eye, it took you a moment to fully recognise your husband.

"Beric," you uttered softly to yourself, your arms releasing the tunics as you marched in his direction, picking up speed as you crossed the courtyard. "Beric Dondarion," you announced, louder this time, catching the attention of the rest of his group as you shoved your way past Jon, "where on earth do you think you've been." You were almost growling when you reached him, glaring up at his one good eye with an anger he had never seen in you before.

His mouth moved, as though he was searching for the words to say, but his voice faltered, unable to speak.

"I thought you were dead. You could have sent me a letter, or something, to let me know you were alive," your voice broke as you attempted to scold him, but as he pulled you into a tight embrace you began to sob, your arms wrapping around his middle, as the others looked on in startled confusion.

"I'm sorry." It was a simple answer, but it was enough, and you nodded slightly against his chest. You pulled away slightly, wiping at your tears. "Gentlemen,-" he started softly, clearing his throat, "- this is my wife, Y/N." The men muttered slightly, and you saw Jon staring on in confusion, but there was little more to be said about the matter.

"I hope you don't mind, but I'd like some time with my husband," you uttered, taking his hand in yours and leading him away from the group and out of the cold of the courtyard. You both walked through the hallways of Winterfell in silence for a moment, his hand clutching yours, his thumb running gently over your skin. "What happened to your eye?"

Beric chuckled slightly, shaking his head. "That one was Ser Gregor Clegane," he told you.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, your brow furrowed in confusion. "That one?"

He cleared his throat. "It's been an interesting few years, My Love. I was dead-" he paused for a moment, thinking, "- a couple of times."

"I don't understand."

"Nor do I," he answered you softly, bringing your hand up to his lips to press a kiss against your knuckles. "But the Lord of Light saw it fit to bring me back."

You hummed, turning your head to look at him fully. "I quite like the eyepatch," you told him, gesturing with your free hand towards his face, "it suits you." At this, he laughed again, releasing your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulder, and leaning in to press a gentle kiss to the side of your head. Sure, you had no idea what would happen during the Long Night, but with Beric by your side, it all seemed a little bit less daunting.

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