THE MORNING THAT FOLLOWED was one filled with sunlight and blue skies, something Cynthia hadn't seen through her window for sometime. She had slept peacefully, for the first time in a while, and awoke with a smile she had grown unaccustomed to. Her spark of a better mood no doubt had something to do with her and Jon's consolidation the night before, which brought about a feeling of having rekindled an old affection in Cynthia which she had missed greatly. It felt good to have connected with him again, and to know he still felt something for her beyond potential disdain. It felt good to be held by him again.
She had not really acknowledged how long it had truly been since the last time he had kept her in his embrace, or even how long it had been since they had last spoken to one another as they did last night. Three years was too long to be away from the man she loved, Cynthia realised, and being with him again, having last night, though it was only a minuscule display of what the pair clearly shared, reminded Cynthia of how much she had hated being separate; if there had ever been any doubt before, it had vanished and left to replace it the realisation that Jon was well and truly the love of her life. Which was contributing to her broadening and positive mood this morning.
Rolling onto her back, and staring at the beautiful patterns that had been created in the light of the morning, which poured like honey through Cynthia's window and seemed to paint her room in a delicately warm hue, Cynthia pondered on all that could be done that day in her beautifully bright new view of the world. It seemed to be that in her small bubble of peace, nothing could go wrong or disrupt the serendipity that she felt just lying there, thinking of her dark eyed brooder. Everything felt different and vibrant and more alive than ever before. She almost forget completely about the fact that she would have to go back to Horn Hill in a couple of days, and do her best in pretending Jon had not caused such a stir in her heart as he always did. She would have to go on being married to Dickon and pretending that that was still enough - though it was quite plain to everyone that it was not. With Jon not only alive, but here and within her grasp, there was not much else left to occupy Cynthia's mind; he was no longer a distant fantasy, or a long lasting memory, Jon was real and really back with her. Until having to go home, she was not going to take his presence for granted. She was going to savour each moment, in the hopes they would suffice until she could be reunited with him again.
Although she enjoyed sitting and smiling at the ceiling like a child, Cynthia realised after another ten minutes that she should get and up and 'cease the day' as she felt like doing, before she wasted it all away by thinking of the man she could be venturing to see instead. She sat up with the same smile on her face, and only then spotted the fragile piece of parchment slipping off of the pillow next to her and onto the back of her hand. She stared at it, her stomach feeling like someone had unleashed a barrel of wildfire amongst her insides, and her smile seemed only to stretch. It was as if she could already tell it was from Jon, by the way he had so carefully strewn it on the bed beside her, and the way it was folded so tenderly; she spent so long staring it at, imagining all that it could say and why, if it definitely were from Jon, he had not stayed to tell her whatever it was himself. Not that she, even for a moment of the daze she seemed to be in, considered that it could be anything bad. She just knew it had to be from Jon, and a second later she decided to open it to confirm her hypothesis.
I love you
~J
His handwriting was the same as it had always been, and Cynthia's smile did not dare to break at all for the following half an hour on account of what she had read, and read at least a million times for about ten minutes afterwards to fuel the surging flush on her otherwise pale cheeks. She hardly hesitated to get dressed and bounce out of her room after that moment, as if desperate to see the man who had written her such a sweet note to wake up to.
However, that half an hour was almost over, and upon getting downstairs Cynthia's stomach seemed to fall from the tower at Stillwater, splatting on to the steps in front of her feet. In fact, how she felt was especially reminiscent to the feeling she'd had three years ago.
"Alec?" She frowned, consciously noting that the Great Hall was empty. He was stood out at the top of the steps leading into the town, his hands on his hips and the sun making his hair look like sandy curls. "Alec." She stepped up to about a foot or so behind him, the feeling of ice seeping back into her chest already beginning before he had said what she knew was about to come.
He said nothing for a moment, and hardly turned around to later ask: "You feeling any better?" He would not meet her eyes, even when she walked up to his side, and then to come stand in front of him. He knew what news he was about to deliver was going to feel as bad as pushing her down the steps. He may as well have done that.
"Where's Jon?" Cynthia already knew the answer, and, looking back on it, she had probably known the answer since finding that parchment on her pillow. She knew why he would not have stayed to tell her himself - because that would have given him cause to stay, at least like this he could flee without thinking of her, if that made it easier for him.
She wished it was Robb stood with her, like had happened the last time this situation occurred, she wished it was him saying this rather than her brother. She could hate her brother for not making Jon stay, not that she wanted to do so purposefully, but she had never been able to hate Robb. "I'm sorry Cyn." Alec sighed. It was the kind of sigh your parents used when giving bad news, or the kind of sigh you would get from a friend when they were attempting to be sympathetic. It was not a good sigh, and Cynthia already knew something was wrong. "I thought he had already spoken to you before -" She winced, the words had all but left his mouth and the look in his eyes made her feel sick. "Jon left this morning."
YOU ARE READING
WE MIGHT FALL (J.SNOW 2)
Fanfiction(THINKING OF SNOW 2) "Now that we are older, I remember you. Reaching out to show me all the things that I must do. Now that we are older, I remember youth. Now that were are close to death and close to finding truth, we might fall." Continuing with...
