ghosts from long ago
Anonymous said:hello, i was wondering if you could write a jon snow imagine where the reader travels to The Wall with Sansa and Brienne and reunites with Jon and they have a very sweet,touching and fluffy moment once they are alone. Btw your blog is amazing ❤️
& Anonymous said:Could I have an imagine where the reader is the Starks cousin and is married to Ramsay instead of Sansa and she has the whole reunion moment instead? love the blog btw
a/n: thought putting these requests together would be a good idea! who else is so pumped for season seven? as always enjoy! and if you have a request just send it in!
pairing: jon snow x reader
He was saddling his horse when she found him, her breath rapid and her legs wobbling as she ran towards him. The sun was shining on the grounds of Winterfell and in more ways than one the gods had fashioned it for a beautiful day. But underneath the glow of summer was a bitter cold that chilled the Arryn girl to the bone.
Robb Stark was marching her way, his eyes glassy and the plump bottom of his lip quivering slightly. He had said his goodbyes already. That fact was certain in his face. He tried to regain his composure as he caught her eyes, blue on blue, the iciness of their image beautiful against the beaming sun.
“He’s doing what he thinks is right” he told her, gently grabbing her arm as she strode past. Her eyes flickered to his face and in a moment he felt his heart falter inside his chest. This was what true pain looked like, he thought, this was what a broken heart looked like.
All month that’s all that anyone had told her. Her Aunt Cat had tried explaining why such a thing should happen, and even Sansa had stressed the fact why it was so important. The only other person who seemed to share the same rage and pain was Arya, but she was too young to understand just how much this would change everything.
“It’s not right” she told her cousin, shaking her head and causing the inherited Tully auburn hair to bristle against her waist.
“You just don’t understand” his voice wasn’t condescending or harsh, but it stung her nonetheless. No, you don’t understand. The words were on her lips she knew, but she held them back. He had told the same thing to her often enough these past days, but she was tired of their repetition. No one understood how hard this was. But Robb stayed quiet and just let his eyes linger on hers for a moment, all his unsaid things swimming in them.
She just pulled her arm away from her cousin and made her way over to where the black haired boy was fiddling with the straps on his horse. It felt like her feet were stuck in tar as she walked, each step heavy with a burden she knew she’d carry for a lifetime.
“Jon” she called to him, her voice wavering and shaking more than the leaves of the weirwood that shook in the summers breeze. He stopped what he was doing then, leather gloved hands stalling their movements as he heard her voice. She swallowed thickly, her mouth feeling dry with each hammering beat of her heart and she thought it would altogether stop when he turned those coal black eyes to hers.
“Lady y/n” he replied deeply, that honest courtesy trickling from his voice. She hated it. The way he said it made her feel like she was better than him in every way, but she wasn’t.
“Jon why are you doing this?” she asked him, balling her skirts in her hands and not caring that her shoes were now kissed with mud as she stood closer to him. She could see it in his face, that exasperation, that impatient mask settling over his handsome features.
“I’ve told you already. My place isn’t here, it’s with my uncle Benjen. At the Wall” he didn’t look at her when he said it because deep down she knew he didn’t really believe it.
“The Wall is no place for a highborn like you” the girl told him, jutting out her chin in defiance, but all Jon done in response was stare at her with a sadness in his eyes that she had learned was permanent. He was a young boy, nearly a man grown, but he carried more weariness and troubles than most his age. He’d never felt accepted here, not really, and somehow he thought that his place lay with the black crows of the Night’s Watch.
“I’m not a highborn” he told her, pulling the strap of the saddle roughly once more and then he turned to her “it seems that you’re the only person in the whole North that forgets that I’m a bastard”
“I hate that word” y/n told him with all the disgust clear in her tone.
“It doesn’t matter whether you hate or love it, that’s who I am. That won’t change” Jon said, his black eyes looking deep into hers and the wild dark curls atop his head rustled in the breeze. He already had the darkness of the Night’s Watch within his features. But his heart was not black. His heart was wild and untamed just like the North. Just like Winterfell.
“You belong here. You belong with your family” she was pleading she knew, but deep within her nothing cringed at the desperation of it.
“Lady Catelyn cannot stand the sight of me, and Sansa refers to me as her half brother every chance she gets. I am not a Stark, nor will I ever be. I do not fit in, and no matter how many times I hunt along with father or Robb, no matter how many times I play with Arya and Bran and Rickon I will never be one of them” he said “one day we will all have to grow up. My Lord Father will pass this legacy to Robb and his children will grow strong here. Not mine, not me”
“Think about what you’re giving up. The Wall is full of rapers and thieves and murderers, you’re made for more than that Jon” those Tully blue eyes he dreamed about filled with tears, and they alone would have made him stay if his mind had not been so concrete.
He hated hurting her, and leaving her was harder than leaving Arya or even Robb. He loved Winterfell, he loved every grey and ancient brick that held it together. He loved every horrible and fascinating smell that accompanied it, and every twist and turn of the wolfswood. He had always loved the summers here, when Lady Lysa’s eldest child had come to visit, just like she had done this summer after her fathers death. She now stood before him with her lips trembling so much she had to bite them to stop.
Gods he loved this place. He loved her. But it had never been home, not really. It hadn’t belonged to him like a home should. Maybe somewhere deep in his mind he knew his real home wasn’t those grey bricks, but the heart that beat beneath the blue silk of y/ns gown. Maybe his real home was cherry colored lips and red hair. Leaving all of that behind was harder than anything.
In a perfect world, one where the gods had never created the idea of bastards, he would have liked to marry her. He would have taken her as his wife and they could have been happy, just like she had made him happy the first time she had kissed him under the weirwood tree.
Jon was going as far North as he could go, but no time nor distance could ever make him forget that moment. He would live in that moment for the rest of his days.
“I’m not giving up anything” he lied harshly, taking up his horses reins and attempting to steer his gelding across the yard but y/ns pale hand came out and pressed against the horses neck, prompting him to stop.
“You don’t have to hide away for the rest of your life just because you think it’s better for everyone else. I don’t care if you’re a bastard. I don’t care if you’re name is Snow. I don’t care”
“You’re a Tully of Riverrun and an Arryn of The Vale. You’re father was Hand to the King, you’re mother now sits in The Eyrie. You’re highborn, and someday you’ll marry some lord or a prince. Not a bastard” Jon told her, giving her a look that meant he was done with arguing, and her face fell in defeat at the sight of it. He gave a deep sigh as he looked at her, praying to the gods that his memory would be sharp enough to sustain the image of her in his mind forever. He could feel the memory of her kiss on his lips, feel the trace her fingertips had left on his skin as they feathered against his cheeks.
She was already a memory. Already a ghost, just like him. Two ghosts from long ago and time hadn’t even passed yet. He contemplated his next words, trying to battle with saying them aloud. They would hurt too much he knew, but what did it matter when she was hurting so much already?
“I love you” he spoke gently “I know I’m only a boy, but I know I love you. But I can never give you what you need. I can’t marry you or give you children because they’ll be bastards too. I have to go, my place is with the Night’s Watch now and your place is here”
Your place is here. He had said it, and she had said nothing. He climbed onto his horse when he saw the rest of the men mount theirs. Lord Eddard looked on his bastard son and his niece with a contemplating look as he sat on top of his horse. So like Catelyn, he thought, and Jon so much like me. But he knew their story wouldn’t have the beginning he and Cat had. Jon would leave today, but he would not return for her.
“I meant the words I said” Jon spoke from atop his gelding “and I’ll always mean them”
As the back of his horse rode away it was like all the years ahead of her rushed forward. She saw herself older and fairer, a woman grown just like those ladies at court. It was strange to imagine the future without Jon Snow, to know that one day she would look for him and he would not be there. He would be guarding the realms of men from terrors beyond the wall. But what terrors would she face without him? When she was a woman what would happen to her without him? What was her life without him?
Something inside her answered, deep and sorrowful, and then she knew no matter what happened, nothing would ever hurt more than this. How can something break me when I’ve been broken for so long?
The gate had seemed so foreboding in her dreams. It had loomed up high and vaulted, with skulls of crows and wildlings spiked at the top. She had imagined the pale and hollow faces of men in black cloaks guarding the gate with eyes like the darkest pits. She’d had nightmares about Castle Black for years, and it still haunted her. It was the place the only man she had ever loved had gone and hidden away. This place had taken him from her, and in her dreams she had hated it.
It didn’t look like that in waking life however. The gate was high, and vaulted with iron, but no skulls rested on top of it. It was not unapproachable, and dead like men did not guard it.
Brienne of Tarth rode behind her, and Podrick Payne was on her right, both with pursed and tight expressions. No one knew who waited behind the gates, no one knew if they’d be welcomed. A ghost from her memories haunted Castle Black, and her blood was cold at the idea of seeing him again.
Almost everyone she had ever loved were ghosts now. Her Lord Uncle Ned, her beloved Aunt Catelyn whom she had loved more than she had ever loved her own mother. The Lady Lysa was a ghost now too, but she had not grieved for her like the others, not like she had grieved for Robb or for her grandfather.
She was haunted, yes, but she carried on. She had done the same thing when Petyr Baelish had taken her from The Eyrie and back to Winterfell. How she had been so naive to think she was going to be safe, but instead she’d been married to a monster.
They can not break me, she had told herself, not when I’ve been broken for so long.
Somewhere in the distance there was a shout behind the walls, and the deafening creak of the gates sounded among the snow as it opened for them. For the first time in so long, hope rang clear throughout her fragile body. She was no longer within reach of Ramsay, she was far away from his abuse.
Her horse was slow, clumsy with tiredness as it rode in ahead of Brienne and Pod. Everywhere she looked eyes were on them, and curiosity and intrigue seemed to light up every pair. She looked for him in her hazy state, euphoria and a heavy relief making her drunk as she sat on her horse but he was not there. He’s a ghost, she thought, maybe he never existed at all. It had been so long since she’d seen him.
She fell from her horse on wobbling legs, holding onto the saddle to steady herself and her eyes looked around for him. The world seemed grey and white, and then all of a sudden there he was, like a raven against the falling snow.
He stood atop a balcony, his face and eyes holding every whisper of disbelief that he had buried within himself. He stood still with those eyes locked on hers. She had expected a ghost, but Jon Snow was very much real as he made his way towards her.
Maybe she was in a dream and not really here. Maybe she had fallen asleep under some tree or other on the kingsroad and was tormenting herself with imagining Jon. But she didn’t care, because it felt real and a dream would be better than the harsh reality she had lived in for so long.
They looked at one another as she stopped in front of him, and she was allowed to see how different he had become. He was broader, and taller and his crow black curls were pulled back in a leather string. He looked like his father, proud and strong, and he was more handsome now than ever. But in all the ways that mattered he was still the same Jon Snow who had left her all those years ago.
And it was that Jon Snow she ran to now.
She threw her arms around him and he held her tight in his, their bodes pressed together like the snow pressed against the earth. He was warm despite the ice in the air and for the first time in months she felt warm, and safe. In that moment all the tragedy that had befallen her family did not weigh on her mind. She did not grieve for dead loved ones, or weep with worry for her cousins that were missing. The fear that her husband had caused her, and all the aching bruises inside and outside her body that he had put there seemed to vanish. There was no war, no Iron Throne.
Just her and Jon.
She had been broken so long ago, but as Jon Snow held her against him all those broken pieces mended themselves in his arms.
note: it is late here and I had no energy to proof read this so apologies for any mistakes! Also tell me what you guys think, and maybe another part is in order?