Velaryon: A Game of Thrones Fan Fiction

Confrontation - Jon

     Women have never been apart of this order from the very beginning, and those who were ever in contact with them during their time at the Wall are distracted from their duties. Rhaena, the 'First Lady', has already proven that she does not belong here, yet she has taken her vows. It infuriates Jon to know that she is fully part of the Night's Watch. If she was named a Ranger, he would truly be insulted. Being that she has been tasked as a Steward must mean that those higher up do not want her fighting the wildlings beyond the Wall. They must feel that she is only fit as a kitchen wench. He knows she must feel slighted like he was when he was named Steward, yet his was for a better purpose.

     He sits in the Long Hall, his fingers wrapped around a mug of mead that he sips from occasionally to keep warm, his belly settling after the delicious supper. He sighs and stares into the mug of brown liquid, watching it move when he taps his fingers against the cold metal of the mug. Lately he can't stop himself from thinking of Rhaena. How helpless she looked when she tried to save him and how terrified she was when he in turn saved her. With sticky blood on her face, she was bleak and unresponsive like it was the first time she ever saw someone killed. Some part of Jon in the back of his mind clings to the idea of protecting her, holding her, loving her.

     Jon scratches his head and shakes it in an attempt to get the thoughts out of his head. Normally, that would be the end of it. However, the way she looked at him that night at Craster's is embedded in his mind forever. How he almost lost himself. He closes his eyes and sees her beautiful face before him. Vivid lilac eyes, long silver hair, the sweetest face he's seen since his sister Sansa's when she asked their father for anything. In his mind, Rhaena comes toward him and hugs him. Briefly, he feels warm inside like he's gulped down his entire mug of ale. A smile forms on his face, a stupid one that's crooked and bashful like a little boy. He opens his eyes and pushes his face into his hands, groaning to himself.

     Love is the death of duty... Maester Aemon's words echo to him. Despite all his strength, Jon cannot bring himself to listen to those words again. Those words have been true since Rhaena arrived. Despite his suppression, his feelings grew more and more. Now, they boil over to the point where Jon is forced to choose between acting on them or cutting her out of his life completely. He swings his legs over the bench he sits on and stands, making his way to the storage rooms under the kitchens. Bits of stray hay are scattered on the floor and crunch under his feet. As he descends the stairs to the storage rooms, he hears light singing. He follows the sweet voice to the door of one of the storage rooms and stops.

     The voice sings a joyous tune, one he's never heard before. The soft voice makes the song sound beautiful and mesmerizing. Jon leans against the wall beside the closed door and listens to it, almost being put under a spell by a siren. From listening, he picks up a story of a man who could not resist the love of a woman. He smiles to himself. The perfect song for their situation.

     Jon peeks in to the room and sees that Rhaena is smiling and sorting through vegetables and fruits, placing them in baskets and moving to organize them so that one type is in a certain corner and another else where. She has halted her singing and now just hums the tune though it is still beautiful regardless. When she picks up her current basket, Jon walks in and closes the door behind him.

     Rhaena gasps and turns to investigate the noise but finds just Jon. "Oh..." Her smile disappears and she resumes working without looking at him. "Come to tell me to piss off again?" Jon feels some regret from her sharp words.

     He feels sick to his stomach from the butterflies within. He tries to regain his composure and remember why he's here. "I still can't understand why we let you stay here in the first place." Rhaena scoffs and is more agitated in her sorting. "We should have executed you the minute you stepped foot here." She looks up, anger on her face.

     "And I can't understand this hate you have for me! Are you so afraid of women you would have them executed rather than say hello?"

     Jon takes a deep breath. "I don't approve of women here. They distract the men from their duties and complain about everything!" He hears himself and thinks about how he's the one complaining now. Rhaena laughs.

     "Well, I'm stuck here forever now. I guess you just have to deal with it." She stops to glare at him. "Unless you're here to kill me, Snow? That's the only reason I will ever leave." Her eyes are like the dagger Jon knows is in her boot - cold and piercing. They warn him to leave her presence before she does something drastic. However, he stands his ground, forcing himself to fight her while also feeling some guilt inside of him. Like this is all wrong.

     "You mean nothing to me. I wouldn't waste an ounce of strength on killing you." Suddenly, her face drops. The angry expression leaves her face as she looks down at the basket with a new sullen expression. Jon feels immediately remorseful as he looks upon her sweet face. Her lilac eyes look ready to pour tears and her soft pink lips are hardened in to a straight line. "I didn't-"

     "I've never meant anything to anyone. I've always been the dirt beneath their boot." She says, inclining her head and beginning to cry. Jon turns away hastily, not wanting to see her upset. "I never did anything wrong..." She sniffles. "When I wanted my mother's love, she spat on me. When I wanted my brother to talk to, he-!" She pauses. "...The only person in the world I loved was taken from me. He made me feel loved, he made me feel real, not like some tool for someone to use when they felt bored." When Jon turns around, she's looking at him. When he tries to apologize, she turns him down and repeats herself. "Just go... I've never meant anything to anyone and I never will..."

     Jon, upset with himself for hurting her and feeling a tide of guilt wash over him, begins to fiddle with Longclaw's holster. Once untied, he places it on the table and goes to slide the lock in to place on the door. Her breakdown has broken him as well. Now, he will not go another moment without telling her how he feels.

     "What are you doing?" She inquires curiously.

     "I didn't mean any of what I said, I swear to you. I don't know what's wrong with me, I-... I shouldn't be doing this again." When she looks at him like he's mad, he begins to close the gap between them. "You mean something to somebody." His lips press against hers as he cups her face and pulls her in. And she doesn't pull away. She wraps her arms around him and kisses him back harder. The warmth of her body presses against his. They pull apart from their kiss to look in to the other's eyes. Lilac meets dark brown. Jon presses his forehead against hers and embraces her tightly, protectively. They both knew they have just broken their vows - Jon for the second time. But from the way her beautiful eyes look in to his and her lips meeting his again, he can tell she is thinking the same thing he is.

     Finally.