Velaryon: A Game of Thrones Fan Fiction

A Grand Celebration - Jon

[A/N: Entered the Watty's! :D Sorry for the delay also, I've been writing much more of the ending to this story rather than this bit. Experienced more feels than I thought in the process.]

     Jon puts on his best smile as he watches every person in the great hall. They raise their goblets, cheer wildly, eat merrily. The men take girls away happily as the women bat their eyes at the remaining men. His silvery haired love sitting beside him, however, couldn't look more upset and he understands why. As much as he wanted to hold her and comfort her, he was not able to. He had to oversee the repairs beginning on Winterfell and the collection of every body of the fallen. All of that death affected him heavily. He personally carried Bran's body to his brother's pyre with a heavy heart and teary eyes. How he wishes that what happened to his brother had not happened. Maybe Bran could have lived out his dream of being a knight instead of dying in the frigid grove, lost in a vision Jon will never know of. He breathes in, calming himself before returning to smiling at his comrades.

     Rain grips her goblet of water, opting not for wine due to the new life in her. They've yet to talk about the hand print on her belly, but Jon knew enough to realize what it meant. She stares in to her goblet, her eyes glued to the thing and never once looking around the room. Jon reaches for her hand, prompting her eyes to slowly stray to his before returning to her cup. Daenerys looks worriedly at Jon, but he knows his love just needs time. His ale has begun to make his head spin. He's lost count of how much he's drank, but judging by how often he bursts in to a hearty laugh at something anyone does, he knows it's been too much. Soon, the smile he put on simply to comfort everyone becomes a genuine smile of merriment. Tormund chugs heartily from his horn of ale, making Jon snort from laughter. He glances down at Rain, who actually pried her eyes away to watch the wildling man guzzle the ale. Her eyes are wide with a mix of horror and amusement and finally, she cracks a small smile that makes Jon beam brightly.

     Tormund shoves another horn at Jon, hitting him roughly on his chest. He winces briefly but masks it with a grin. He rises and sits himself on the table, taking the horn and downing the brown liquid within as best he can. The wildlings gathered around Tormund cheer, but Jon stops and coughs.

     "Go on! All in one go!" His friend cheers him on, pushing the horn in to his face before Jon pulls it away.

     "No, not in one go." He protests, hearing himself slur his words, feeling his head pound lightly. He can hardly keep his eyes open.

     "You can do it, I believe in you." Sansa grins widely up at him from her seat beside him.

     "We have to celebrate our victory!" Tormund demands, but Jon puts a hand over his mouth as he feels something coming up. Swallowing it down, he retorts with a finger held up.

     "Vomiting is not celebrating."

     "Yes it is." It makes Jon look down and laugh hard. Rain looks up at him and he gazes back at her, his happy mouth parted. Has she always been this beautiful, or is it all of this ale? Has she ever seen his like this ever? From the way he can hazily see her staring at him, she's never seen him this drunk before. Yet, her smile rests happily on her face, telling Jon it amuses her. She glances to her side, seeing Daenerys now looking down in to her own cup. Suddenly, Rain stands.

     "To the Dragon Queen, for without her, we would not have been victorious!" She announces. Daenerys beams slightly as the crowd erupts in to cheers and applause. Jon can see she still feels like an outsider, a foreigner. Now, she seems to forget about it for a moment, as she too stands and raises her cup.

     "To Arya Stark and Jon Snow, the heroes of Winterfell!" Daenerys cries over the cheering, relishing in the laughter and merriment. Sansa then excuses herself, taking to walking through the hall and becoming lost in the sea of waving arms, flying ale and bobbing heads. Jon takes to gazing down at Rhaena once more, losing himself to drunken thoughts about her radiant beauty. The thoughts become more and more obscene in his head, but before he can act on them by wanting to excuse himself with her in tow, Tormund begins patting his shoulder roughly, bringing Jon back to reality.