I want to read a really dark jonrya fic. I want a jon with the same passion he has for arya in the canon, but without a moral compass. Like you know the one with ' if i can't get the girl, i'll not let her be anyone else's'
So…Since I got several requests asking for a dark Jon, mad Jon, feral Jon, I’ve combined your prompt and @amster-l “ After resurrection Jon act like animal: growls, bares his teeth and etc. And he is very jealous about Arya” to make this piece. I hope you’ll enjoy it.
He hasn’t been the same since he was brought back to life. Maybe it was some sort of side effect of being too long sharing Ghost’s mind and body. His men would often whisper in fear that he had become more animal that human and with good reason to do so.
The North had a new king and it was his duty to send the message that no one would ever defy the name Stark or Snow again.
Every morning he would look at the bodies rotting at the gates. Bolton and his son stood in the middle of the arrangement like the most valuable jewels in the North. Soon he would add some Freys to the composition and perhaps even have a pie made of them, just like in the stories Old Nad used to tell him. Just the way Arya liked them.
Jon could still remember the taste of Ramsay’s blood in his tongue as Jon licked his fingers after his knife cut through Bolton’s flesh. Even the King in The North had to admit that flaying someone alive had some poetry to it. The ultimate satisfaction it could provide at every scream in repayment for what Bolton had done to the land and for daring threat Jon and demand him to give Arya back.
I want my bride back…
Those words had sentenced both bastards to death in the end, but Jon was more familiar with hell and its mysteries than Bolton would ever be.
As if she has ever been his. As if Arya has ever belonged to anyone but me.
At that thought he could help a growl. Another side effect, he supposed. He had became greedy and territorialist beyond recognition.
He was so distracted that he barely registered the sound of steps coming his way.
“Bran insists upon an audience with you.” Her voice dragged him back to reality and made his heart beats faster. His mouth went dry almost immediately, even though he hasn’t turned to see her concerned face looking back at him. “We should assemble a gathering and decide it with the lords already, Jon. It isn’t fair for us to wait indefinitely.”
“I never knew Brandon craved for a crown that much.” He finally turned to face her frown. She was worried. More than that, she was having problems to deal with the man he had become to the point of fearing him. That kind of thing hurt more than the scars in his body. “You look lovely, even with a frown.”
“It’s his birthright and mine, no matter what you have to say.” Arya replied fiercely, while ignoring his attempts of gallantry. She was just protecting her baby brother and yet it had been enough to poison Jon’s blood with rage. She should be on his side. Always. Forever.
“It wasn’t Brandon the one to drag the bastard out of this castle, or even the all mighty warg who defeated Bolton’s army. If we are to talk about rights, why don’t we mention the rights of conquest?” Jon replied while trying to keep his anger under control. “Fear not. I won’t kick you both out of here. This is our home, after all.”
“What about Reed?” Arya finally addressed the matter he was trying so hard to avoid. “You are not a Stark and with those letters and the sigil…What are we supposed to do with all that? Ignore?”
“For all I care, yes!” He growled back at her, finally letting his most animalistic traces to emerge. “I don’t care about what Reed and those papers say! I am Jon and my blood is as much Stark as yours. Robb made me a Stark in his will and also his heir! If I hear one more thing about Brandon’s rights I’ll send him to the Citadel to become a fucking maester!”
“Would you really do this?” Arya looked him straight in the eyes with an inner strength that he wasn’t used to. That wasn’t the little girl who used to be so unsure of her place in the world. That wasn’t the nameless assassin or the orphan who ran away from King’s Landing. Arya had finally embraced her identity and everything that came attached to it, which meant she was a ferocious young woman, ready to bite her way to power if she had to. “What about my rights? What am I, if not Bran’s legitimate heir in this? Will you usurp me as well?”
At that she had him trapped in his own farce. How could he explain it to her without sounding as a lunatic? He had done everything for her and only her. If Arya was a free woman it was because he had uncovered Bolton’s plot and made of Winterfell a secure place for them to live in. She had the birthright, but the lords would be unwilling to follow a cripple boy and a young woman, no matter how capable they were.
“You won’t even be considered as long as Bran and I are alive. No matter how capable you are, the lords will look at you and see a woman.” Jon tried to sound reasonable and calm, but all to no avail. “What is it that you want, Arya? What do I have to do in order to have your support?”
“I’m not sure if you realized, but you are asking me to betray my brother and support your claim when you are not even a Stark!” She didn’t even raise her voice to confront him and yet Arya sounded much more like a monarch than he did. She never failed to make him proud, even when they stood in opposite sides.
“There was a time you used to call me brother too. I suppose I’ll have to get used with the idea that we are not siblings after all.” Those words were knifes cutting thru his heart and yet they were the same words that had broken him free from the guilty he felt whenever he looked at her and saw a desirable woman.
“You are putting me in a terrible place.” She said as if she still cared about him and that was a sweet thing to think. “I understand your side and I can even agree that you might be our best option as King, but I can’t neglect Bran. What will be of him and what will be of me in this scenario? Are we supposed to depend on your mercy forever?”
“Fear not, my dear.” He sighed in frustration. “I can’t conceive the idea of a life in which you are not by my side.” His voice was full with resolution and purpose. “I’ll make sure Bran will be treated accordingly to his rank and needs. I’m even considering marry him to either Lyanna Mormont or Meera Reed. Whomever he likes best. He will be a lord and an important member of my council. Does it sound like a terrible thing?”
“What about me?” Arya insisted as if he was somehow depriving her of her dignity, or something just as valuable. “Am I to become a prisoner in my own house, so you’ll have a guarantee that Bran will never rebel against you?”
“What?” Jon asked cautiously and slightly surprised by the accusation. “Why would you think that?”
“You have been spying on my correspondence and even preventing the maester to send them. Don’t even try to deny it. I’ve found a number of them in your cabinet.” She accused him bluntly. “I would appreciate if you allow me some privacy.”
“I don’t follow you around the castle or invade your room for you to accuse me of violating your privacy. This is rather unfair.” Jon tried to minimize the gravity of his actions, and yet Arya looked at him unimpressed and still angry. “Besides…There was a time in which we had no secrets between us.”
“There was also a time in which we completed each other’s sentences and you would mess up with my hair. It perfectly clear that you chose to distrust us and this is something that can only weaken this family.”
“So…Now I’m family? I’m confused, my dear.” He replied in angry disdain. “I trust no one in this world but you, Arya.” He gave a step toward her. If Arya was afraid of his approximation, she never let it show.
Jon touched her face with his ice cold hands, making Arya shrink a bit. He cupped her cheek, feeling the warmth of her creamy skin as his thumb rubbed the faint pink shade of her cheekbones gently.
“It’s not you whom I don’t trust, but those you correspond with.” He said with a hint of indulgency. “Why does Edric Dayne insist upon writing you so often? What interest could the Lord of Starfall have in you?”
“He…” Arya took a deep breath as if considering her words. “He knows someone how could provide testimony on your true parentage. I was trying to secure this piece of evidence just in case.”
“Yes…Wylla, isn’t it?” He smiled at her without humor. “It was not that what troubled me. No…I guess it had something to do with the part in which he wrote you a poem. He has quite a talent with words, I dare say. He just doesn’t have much sense of self-preservation.”
“Why would you even bother about a poem?” At that Jon grinned at her like a savage beast. His bare teeth displaying all the anger and violent nature of a wolf being threatened in his territory.
Jon grabbed her chin tightly, but Arya didn’t even blink at his sudden display of lack of control.
“Do you see those bodies rotting outside?” He asked through his teeth. His fingers relaxed a bit before he held head between his hands and put his forehead against hers. “Do you know why I’ve made such a monumental display of their tragedy?”
“Because you want the world to know that the North is ruled by a violent mad man.” Arya replied bitterly.
“No, my love.” He whispered indulgently. “I want the world to know what I will do to anyone who dare lay a claim on you.”
“You are truly mad.” She answered with her eyes shut. She smelled of dried roses, pinewood and a faint note of blood. “We never needed this between us, Jon.” Her delicate hand caressed his face like a gentle breeze. “I know it has been…Difficult. If you are to remain as King in the North, you’ll have to let go of me at some point and…” Her words trembled as he felt her tears with the tip of his thumbs. “We must get used to the idea that at some point we will have to say goodbye once more.”
“I forbid you to even consider such a thing!” He answered harshly. “You are not leaving me, not now, nor ever! Do you understand me?!”
“This simply can’t be. The sooner you let me go, the sooner we will be able to overcome this…Sickness we share.” Arya insisted.
“No. No, you won’t leave me!” He finally lost it in a scream. “You are mine and I am yours! If everything Reed said about me is truth than everything becomes too clear for me. You are afraid of what will be of you under my reign, so let me make it simple. I will make a queen out of you.” His voice sounded almost feral and deranged. “All those faces and names you once used…Forget them all. You will be remembered forever as Queen Arya of Winterfell. If the North demands a trueborn Stark in the Winter Throne, then I’ll give them one. You will rule by my side and protect me with your name while I’ll grant you all the power and recognition you might want. Be my wild and savage queen. March to war by my side if you like. Give me sons and daughters to carry our names for generations to come so the world will know that ours is the Song of Ice and Fire!”
“That means that you’ll have to claim the Targaryen name.” Arya tried to sound reasonable. “This means war.”
“I don’t care.” He said in a low and desolated tone. “I would fight my way to hell if that meant a chance of having you for myself. I won’t make excuses or apologize for loving you as I do. If anything, loving and desiring someone from my own kin is nothing but my birthright as a Targaryen.”
“What if I don’t want to be a queen? Have you considered that?” Arya questioned him bitterly.
Jon held her head firmly in place once Arya questioned his intentions. His mouth claimed hers in a voracious kiss that could only be described as immoral. Blindly he pressed her body against the nearest wall while trying to immobilize her arms.
Soon they were breathless, but their lips were still so close that they could almost touch.
“I never said this was something up to discussion.” He whispered to her dangerously. “I’m not asking you to be mine. I’m merely informing you that you already are, my love.”