The Last Stag • Game of Thrones

21.

Chapter Twenty-One
Breaker of Oaths

Jon could not remember the last time that he had been awoken by the swell of the morning light. 

The fire in the hearth had long since died, the rising sun casting the room in a soft glow. Outside, he could hear the gentle lap of the waves against the hull, and knew that they were nearly at Eastwatch.

At his side, Ren stirred in her sleep, her black curls fanned out across the pillow like a halo of raven down. In her sleep, Ren looked so much more her age. The frown lines across her forehead had disappeared along with the crinkles of her brow. Even her scars were less noticeable. 

All Jon wanted to do was lay back down. He wanted to pull her across his chest, feel the warmth of her skin. Forget about the White Walkers and the wars, the men at his command and the bitterness of Westeros. For a second, he let himself pretend that he and Ren were the only two people in the world. That they were on a ship to Essos, where they'd find some quaint cabin, and never speak to another soul.

"Mm." Ren flung an arm over her eyes as she awoke. "Not today."

Jon chuckled. "You've got your voice back."

"Sort of." Ren sighed, dropping her arm and sitting up, not bothering to cover her bare chest. "I sound like Grand Maester Pycelle."

Her voice was creaky and strained, as if she had spent many hours breathing in the smoke of a fire. Welders and masons often sounded like Ren did at that moment. 

"Was that your Maester at home?" Jon asked, leaning back onto his elbows. She nodded, as if in a trance.

"He was. Although he might have lost his credibility as he got older." She snorted. "He once told me that having sex was to allow my soul to be fouled, and that if I did it with anyone besides my husband, I'd be filthy until the day I died."

"So I've fouled you, then?"

Ren turned, a playful smile on her lips. She tucked one of Jon's curls behind his ear, laughing to herself.

"I think I've fouled you, if we're being technical." She crinkled her nose. "You're filthy now."

Jon grabbed her hand, kissing the inside of her palm.

"I am." He kissed up her wrist, into the crook of her elbow. "I'm a filthy, filthy man, and it's all your fault."

"Completely ruined." Renfri nodded, swinging herself on top of him. He felt himself stir underneath her, and leaned in to meet her lips. "Man of the Night's Watch, so foul and disgusting."

Jon broke their kiss.

In the stupor of last nights events, he had completely forgotten about the oath he had broken. He cast his gaze away, sighing.

"I'm sorry." Renfri sat up, looking away. "I didn't mean to-"

"No, but you are right." Jon muttered. "I've broken my vows. I'm the Lord Commander and I've broken my vows."

Ren pursed her lips. 

"Technically not, Jon." She guided his face back to her. "You vowed to take no wife, father no sons. You've broken neither of these vows."

Jon sighed, turning back to her. The window behind her caused the morning light to fan around her like a halo, casting her lithe body in shadows. He rested his hands on her waist, tracing his thumbs over her hip bones. 

"I see why they don't want us to do it." He murmured. "How do I possibly get anything done now, knowing you're going to be walking around?"

Renfri threw her head back in laughter, linking her arms around his neck, resting her elbows on his shoulders. 

"Can't we just stay here?" Ren mused, her smile so wide that her face almost hurt. "Pretend that we have nothing to do, nobody to save?"

Over their heads, Jon heard the shouts of men and the clanging of the ships bells. Feet thundered atop the deck, the booming sound filling their cabin. 

Jon pushed himself up, placing a kiss on the swell of Renfri's throat.

"Wouldn't that be lovely?" He murmured into her skin. He picked her up, removing her from him, realizing how cold the room was as he stepped onto the wooden floor. He dressed quickly, breaking out into the hallway and hopping up to the top deck. 

"Crow." Tormund found him quickly, already eating a barely-cooked goat leg. "Yer' too happy. Forget what happened yesterday?"

Jon soured. He pulled a face, turning to the incoming tower, Tormund following him.

"Haven't forgot." He leaned over the bannister. "Just slept well."

Tormund leaned into Jon, taking a deep, simmering breath. Jon jerked backwards, confused.

"Ye' smell different." Tormund narrowed his eyes. "Smells like sex to me."

Jon looked away.

"Dunno what you're talking about."

"Yeah, ye' do." Tormund moved to stand beside him at the bannister. "We're coming up on Eastwatch now. Three days back to yer' castle. You get your cock wet, forget that there's people who need ye'?"

"Tormund." Jon's voice warned. 

Tormund burst out into laughter, clapping his hand down on Jon Snow's shoulder.

"Relax, Jon Snow. I'm teasing ye'. Yer' secret is safe with me."