Arrows Through a Bastard

Chapter Two

Jon Snow was going to die if Ygritte didn't do anything soon. Wildlings had poor means of treating injury's to begins with, and Ygritte had never learnt how to treat wounds. But Jon wasn't going to die on her watch. The cave they had found was not the same as the one in the Frostfangs, but it would keep them warm enough. They were still in the moors, but large rocks had begun protruding from the earth, and grass covered rock hills were everywhere.

Maybe you should let him go back to the Wall, Ygritte thought. If he stays with you, you'll probably kill him. Jon slept obscenely, leaving Ygritte plenty of time to worry over whether she was doing the right thing, keeping him. Back and forth she went, but always coming to the same conclusion that he had stolen her, all those months ago. Now it was her turn to steal him.

They had arrived in the cave last night, and Jon had fallen asleep as soon as she had got him through the mouth of the cave. He was getting a fever, and Ygritte was becoming increasingly worried about the damage she'd done.

She decided that the arrows were better in than out, so she prepared to inflict even more pain on her beloved. Ygritte had seen women pore boiling wine into wounds to clean out the infection, so she started a small fire in the little pit she had dug, and put some of the wine from her skin over the fire.

Jon woke as she was preparing to pull out the arrows.

"Give me something to bite down on. Ygritte, I dont want to bite me tongue off," he said when he saw what he was doing.

She kissed him, her beautiful Jon, and put some fabric between his teeth.

"I'll count you down, alright," she said, smoothing the hair back from his eyes. She positioned herself over him, so she could comfort him as soon as the arrows were out. The one in his shoulder appeared to be the one causing him the most pain, because he was unable to move, so she felt with that one first.

"Alright. You'll be fine. That I know," Ygritte whispered. "Three... two... one." She yanked the arrow out and Jon yowled through the fabric. She brought the wine from the fire and poured it into the wound. Jon moaned as it steamed off him. Ygritte quickly poured cold water in, becasue it seemed like the wine was burning him, and wrapped the shoulder in linen. She had grazed his shoulder blade and hit a rib with her arrow. He was extremely lucky to not to have an arrow through his lung, or heart. The leg was similar, but this time Jon screamed.

The next one was harder. If she pulled it out wrong, it could get his gut, and that would be the end of Lord Snow. He grunted as she pulled it out, and fell into unconsciousness. She repeated the wine procedure and thus, it was done.

Ygritte left him to sleep, and recover and went out of the cave to think. She was alone now. She knew that she couldn't go back to Mance Rayder; she would be killed on sight, branded a traitor and a crow lover. And that she was. A crow lover. Becasue gods she loved Jon Snow. He was fierce. Brave. Stupid, but brave. She remember saying that to him, once, the night he wouldn't start a fire to keep them warm.

She was never able to place the moment she had fallen in love with the bastard. It wasn't when she had teased him about being a boy, or laughing at his vows; that had just been for fun. But when they were in that cave, and he said "we shouldn't," in that beautifully terrified voice of his, and she had responded with: "we should." That was the moment. The moment when she disregarded the fact that he was a crow, disregard her duty to Mance, and loved Jon Snow with all her wildling heart. And gods she hated him for it. She prided herself for her independence, and how she had never relied upon a man. But when she met Jon, she found she needed him; not to support her, but to love her, as no one ever had. Tormund joked and pushed her around, and he was the closest thing she'd ever had to a father. He was the only one who felt anything close to love for her.