Until the Seven Hells Freeze Over

Chapter 6- Hide

You felt like you were about to be sick.

Timothy was on his way here.

You stared straight at Samwell after he told you; his round brown eyes were widened in concern, his cheeks red and his breathing heavy, probably from running all the way back from Mole's Town to Castle Black.

On your other side, Jon was still engaged in conversation with the others, blissfully unaware of what Sam had just told you.

"Sam," you whispered under your breath, unsure of what else to say. Your feet felt frozen to the floor, your heart rate rising with each second that passed. "What do we do..."

Sam looked over your shoulder at Jon; you could see the wheels turning in his mind as he thought about how to get Jon's attention without sounding any alarm bells. He cleared his throat softly, hoping Jon would look over, but the other Brothers kept Jon's attention, coaxing him into drinking another mug of ale.

You turned toward Jon, and under the table you rested your hand on Jon's leg and whispered his name.

Jon turned to you, smiling widely. But when he saw the look in your eyes, his grin dissipated like it had been slapped off his face.

"Y/N," he murmured. "What's wrong, love?"

"It's Timothy..." you whispered, unable to stop the ferocious trembling in your voice. "Sam saw him in Mole's Town. He's coming here tomorrow."

Jon's eyes darkened at that; his hand clenched his mug of ale like he was trying to shatter it into pieces. From behind you, Samwell said softly, "It's true, Jon."

Jon looked away for a moment as he processed, deciding what to do next. The other Brothers seemed unaware that anything had happened, but when Jon stood abruptly, they all looked at him in confusion.

"Going so soon, Lord Commander?" asked one of the Brothers who you didn't know, a burly man with a long red beard and hands the size of dinner plates.

"My guest is tired," said Jon. "I'm going to escort her upstairs."

"I'm sure you are," said the ginger man with a glint in his watery gray eyes. "I'm sure she'll make you feel right at home in your new bed."

A murderous gleam shone in Jon's eyes at that. "This woman has been my friend since birth, and you'll mind your manners in front of her."

"Oh." The man cocked his head as he looked over at you. "I thought she was a whore, a prize for the men you deemed worthy. Why else would a woman be here?"

Jon lunged forward so quickly that it made you dizzy. He grabbed the man by the collar of his tunic and raised him from sitting to standing before anyone else at the table could register what happened.

When Jon spoke, his voice was deadly quiet, calm but laced with venom. "Say that word one more time, and I will rip your tongue out through your skull."

The man laughed nervously at first, thinking—or, more likely, hoping—that Jon was joking. But as the seconds ticked by, and he realized that Jon was being absolutely serious, the grin faded from his face. He coughed and muttered, "Sorry."

"Sorry, what?" Jon snarled.

The man's face fell even more. "Sorry, Lord Commander."

Jon released his grip on the man, who slumped back onto the bench. The murderous gleam was still in Jon's eyes, and his hands twitched by his sides as he looked around the now-silent table and said in a low voice, "Does anyone else have any questions?"

Dead silence.

Jon nodded once. "Good. Then I'll bid you goodnight, men." He held out his arm to you, his eyes softening once his gaze met yours. "Come, my lady," he said.