If I Could Tell Her
Requested: By absolutely no one, at all
Pairings: Jon Snow x Reader
Summary: You have been in a black mood, even after the Great War has ended. Jon had made it his mission to remedy the situation.
Warnings: An overall bittersweetness
Word Count: 1,290
A/N: So I have been kicking this idea around for about a month. I was really insired by If I Could Tell Her, which is from Dear Evan Hansen. You definitely don’t have to be familiar with the song to read this, but I did include the link in case anyone was interested!
The hall was full of music and lively dancing, but you could not feel more empty inside. The war was over, Winter had come and gone. And it had taken too many members of your family with it. The Starks had raised you after your mother and father had perished during Robert’s Rebellion, and you had been raised by the Starks as one of their own.
In fact, you were to be one of their own. The day that Robb proposed to you was perhaps the happiest day of your life. Catelyn had insisted on throwing a huge banquet in honor of the engagement. It was one of your last truly happy memories. You had been angry after Robb forbade you from attending the wedding at the Twins, where his uncle Edmund was married to a Frey girl. You should have been there with him, what with your own wedding on hold until the war was over.
You shook the memories away, closing the long forgotten book that was still resting in your lap. Ghost was nestled by your feet, the direwolf a constant companion since your reunion with the rest of the Starks. Everyone was taking the time to breathe, to relax. You all needed the time to adjust to a new era of peace, after so much war. After all of the fighting, it was strange to spend your days lounging about Winterfell.
Everyone did their best to stay occupied. Sansa was up to her knees in new dresses and lemon cakes, and Arya was still in the process of sorting through the armory. And Jon, Jon was ruling the North during his days. And throughout his nights, he was somehow managing to find time to pull you out of the dark hole that you had fallen in. Piece by piece, smile by smile. It was working, but not as fast as he would have preferred.
Ghost was by your side throughout the day, a warm presence helping to combat against the cold wind of the North. And in the evenings, Jon was by your side. The two of you didn’t really speak of the war, or of the people you had lost. Sometimes, he would read to you while you played with Ghost’s fur, sometimes the two of you would stare into the fire, content to be silent and simply enjoy the company of the other.
But today was different. You had found a small locket that Robb had given to you when you were young. The pain of missing him felt fresh and new.
Jon found you in your chambers, Ghost curled up at the end of the bed. It was not unusual, but when Jon saw the piece of jewelry in your hands, he knew that you were hurting. He chose to pull you into his side, slipping the locket out of your hands and setting it on the table before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
“He loved you, you know.” Jon said quietly, breaking the silence.
You could only bring yourself to bury your face farther in his neck.
“He never shut up about you.” Jon laughed.
“What did he say?” You had somehow managed to shock the both of you. You usually preferred not to talk about him, but hearing Jon talk about how happy he was made your heart feel as if it was a little less hollow than the day before.
“He thought that you smile was perhaps the purest form of happiness available in this world.” He said, ghosting a kiss over your forehead. When you didn’t respond, Jon thought it better to continue. “He thought about how wonderful your sons would be, and how you would be the perfect mother.”
You smiled, a true genuine smile. One of the very few smiles that you had allowed yourself recently.
“He loved you too, you know.” Jon smiled, eyes once again drifting to the locket that was sitting on the bedside table.
“Of course I know.” Jon’s said, holding back tears as Ghost came to rest his head on your lap. You scratched him behind the ears, grateful for the sudden warmth that was filling his heart.
“What else did he say?”
Jon was silent for a moment, attempting to calm his quickening heart. Robb had talked about you incessantly, but Jon had found himself refusing to listen. It was painful to hear his brother, the trueborn first son of Eddard Stark speaking about his betrothed, the woman that Jon had found himself in love with.
Jon had to improvise. “He said that your eyes were the clearest pools in the seven kingdoms, and that he would tear apart this world and the next if it meant protecting you.” Robb was sure to have thought something of the sort at one time or another, had maybe even voiced them. “I brought you something.” Jon said, hoping that he might be able to pull you out of your black mood.
“You didn’t have to bring me-” you tried to insist that a gift was not necessary, but a withering look from Jon was all that it took to make you fall silent. Instead, you resigned yourself to watching him pull a small piece of parchment out of his pocket.
“I know that Robb has a portrait of the two of you painted for this.” He gently took the locket from the bedside table and gingerly opened it. You didn’t miss the flash of pain in his eyes as his thumb stroked over the small portrait of you and Robb.
“I thought that you might like to add this to it.” He handed you the parchment, and as you unfolded it,, you found a new portrait. One of Jon. And Arya. And Sansa and Bran and Rickon. “I know that you feel alone. But you still have a family.”
You could feel tears beginning to well up in your eyes. But they were different tears than the ones that you had shed earlier that day. It was easy to forget that even though the war had taken so much from you, that you still had so much to live for.
Jon carefully slipped the new portrait into the locket across from the old one, before fastening it around your neck. The familiar weight against your chest was soothing. You pulled Jon to you, holding him close. The two of you sat in silence, thankful for the other’s warmth, the comfort that flowed between you regardless of the silence. The fire had died, and the sun was setting over Winterfell before the two of you, accompanied by Ghost, made your way out of your rooms and down to the Great Hall.
You were surprised to find your family there, laughing over their meals while a roaring fire made the large stone room feel warm and homey. Exactly as it was before.
You took your place beside Arya before pulling her into your side. You had been locked up in your rooms for a few days, and you knew that they must have been worrying about you. Arya’s sigh of relief as she nuzzled into you was enough to bring about another round of tears. Sansa tucked herself against your other side, and Rickon and Bran found their way into the hug as well.
You reached out your hand for Jon, who was still standing behind you, and you smiled through your tears when his rough hand had captured your own.
Your family may have been a bit broken, and a little bit smaller. But as you all huddled together, you couldn’t help but smile, thinking of how happy Robb, Catelyn, and Ned would have been to see you all together again.