The Army of the Dead is real. The White Walkers are real. The Night King is real. I’ve seen them. I saw the Night King. I looked into his eyes. Winter is here. The dead are coming. We don't stand a chance. The enemy is real. It's always been real.
Jon Snow’s army defeated the Boltons, thus retaking Winterfell in the Stark’s name. But you haven’t seen Jon since he left for the Night’s Watch. Will he remember what you said to him as he walked out of Winterfell’s gates? Will he feel the same way when he returned? (Words : 2344)
The last time you saw Jon Snow, he had a frown on his face as he solemnly told you that he was leaving to Castle Black. You could remember your heart aching as his brown eyes held your gaze as he tried to explain why he was going away.
“This is your home, Jon, you just can’t leave like this. You’re needed here,” you begged, tears falling down your face. Jon gave you saddened look, trying desperately to make your understand. But he knew you would understand, you just didn’t want to. You had been one of his closest companions, next to Robb and other Stark children; there was something special about you. which made this all the more difficult for him.
“Y/N, this isn’t my home. I don’t belong here, I’m no Stark.” You shook your head, resting your hands on his shoulders. One hand traveled to his neck, causing him to look up and meet your eyes once more. You stared into his dark eyes, like you’ve done many times before.
There was something between you two, in the way you looked at each other. Your stolen moments were more than the mischievous ones shared between Jon and Arya. Your conversations with him held more heart than your jokes with Sansa. You confided in Jon with your secrets and problems more than Robb. There was an unspoken, untouched affection that lingered in too-long touches and heartfelt stares; but now those little moments would cease. The possibility of love would trail behind Jon as he traveled to the Night’s Watch.
“This isn’t your home?” Your hands held his face now, pulling him closer than ever before. “Jon, Winterfell is just four walls,” your voice was more calm now, “I’m your home.” You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding, but Jon seemed to stop breathing all together.
“Y/N, you’re,” he paused, not knowing what to say. You swallowed hard, letting your words rest between you with a heavy weight. “You are my home,” Jon finally said, “but I need to do this. For me. For the realm.” You smiled softly, feeling more tears swell in your eyes.
“And you say you’re not a Stark, always doing things for the greater good,” you let out a bittersweet, short laugh. Jon gave you a sorrowful smile before resting his forehead against yours. You closed your eyes, savoring the closeness you shared with Jon in that moment. Your last intimate moment together.
After a while, you pulled your head away from Jon’s. You locked eyes with him again and you were just, so close. His lips were just a tip-toe away. You could feel his breath against your skin and it was just so tempting to close that gap.
“Y/N,” Jon murmured lowly, his northern accent heavier than before. One of his hands cupped your face, his thumb tracing the space beneath your bottom lip. Jon leaned forward slightly, but you backed away. You curled your bottom lip in your mouth and shook your head.
“When you come back home Jon Snow,” you took a tentative step towards him, “when you come back to me.” You leaned over slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. You pulled away fully, because if you didn’t, you’d probably wouldn’t be able to stop yourself. “When you come back home,” you repeated and Jon nodded. His hand went to yours, givning it a soft squeeze.
“I will miss you, Y/N,” he whispered, “I will miss you dearly.” Jon turned then, walking off to his room. You watched him go, knowing that in the morning there would be no time for a true goodbye like this. And you were right; Jon Snow left the next morning and you were forced to just wave goodbye, only remembering your true farewell from the night before.
All that followed after his departure came with the shadow of death and horror. The Stark name had been dragged through the dirt, with Ned’s beheading and Robb’s murder. It seemed there was no end in sight with all the killings. It sure didn’t stop when Winterfell had fallen into the control of House Bolton; more specifically, Ramsay Bolton.
The clashing of weapons and the bloody screams of soldiers could be heard through the stone walls of Winterfell. You hid in a small room, trying to avoid the Boltons that were searching for servants to aid in the battle. You had no wish to fight against Sansa’s forces, especially after finding out that Jon was leading them. The beat of your heart accelerated when you thought of seeing him again, if he made it through the battle.
You were concealed in the room, Jon’s old room that had become yours, until your heard a large banging that came from the courtyard. You carefully opened the door, peeking out from beyond the balcony at the giant that had burst through the door. You opened the door a little more and saw him. Jon, standing next to the giant as an arrow flew into it’s eye. You gasped, turning your head to have your eyes land on Ramsay. You swallowed hard as you look back at Jon.