GoT One-Shots Book 3!

Smuggled Away (Jon Snow x fem!Lannister reader)

(SLIGHT SPOILERS{ISH} FOR SEASON 8)

You were hiding and listening when your aunt, Cersei told Jaime she had no intention of letting her army fight the Army of the Dead. You had always been disgusted with her, but now you were frightened. She cared more about the throne than the realm she was supposed to be protecting. And when she threatened to kill your Uncle Jaime, you became frightened for your life. If she would kill him, what was to stop her from killing you, the daughter of her most hated sibling?

"Uncle Jaime!" you cried, seeing him heading for his horse. He stopped and faced you with wide eyes. "What is it?" Your eyes filled with tears. "Don't leave me here. Please. I-She might...I can't stay here." He looked at you with sympathy. "I can't take you, Y/N. Cersei would never let you leave the city. Not when she could use you as leverage."

"Please, Uncle Jaime. My father hardly knows me. He kept his distance if only to protect me. She will kill me. Please." Jaime glanced around to make sure no one was around before he threw a cloak over your shoulders. "Keep the hood up and your head down. I'm no smuggler, but I will do my best." You tied the cloak and put the hood up as he hoisted you up onto his horse. You knew you were riding North, but you gave no thought to the fact that you and your former love would be reunited once more.

You stood behind Jaime with shaking knees. You kept your eyes on his back even though you wanted desperately to look at the faces of those people who would decide your fate. "Lady Brienne speaks highly of you, Ser Jaime. I say you should stay," Sansa said, making you breathe a sigh of relief. If they were willing to keep Jaime alive, maybe there was hope for you. After all, you hadn't done anything other than being a Lannister.

"Thank you, my lady. And, what of my niece?" At that, you finally looked up at Sansa and Daenerys. "And why should we allow your sister's daughter to remain? She could be a spy." You narrowed your eyes slightly. You did not like this woman. Not one bit. And you especially did not like the way she kept looking at Jon. Still, you knew you had to say something. Anything to convince her to let you stay.

"I beg your pardon, Your Grace. But I am NOT Cersei's daughter. Tyrion Lannister is my father. My mother, his first wife, bore me in secret to protect me from Cersei and Tywin. It has only been the last few years that I have come to know my family. Would you punish a young woman for the sins of her family the way Robert Baratheon punished you for the sins of your father? Uncle Jaime smuggled me out of King's Landing to protect me. If you turn me away, then I shall return to my aunt's keeping as I have nowhere else to go. But then my blood will be on your hands."

The whole room went still and quiet as they watched with bated breath to see what Daenerys would say. You took that opportunity to glance at Jon for the first time since you'd arrived. Your own breath caught in your throat when you saw his eyes already on you. His lips were turned into a slight frown, but that was normal for him. And his eyes held a hint of the boy you used to know. The boy you had fallen in love with was now a young man. A handsome one too.

"I do not agree with allowing Lannisters into our midst. Lord Tyrion has proven himself loyal. The two of you have not. You have proven time and again that your loyalty is to Cersei." Daenerys said. She and Sansa exchanged glares before looking to Jon to keep the peace. Without taking his eyes off you, Jon replied, "I agree...with Sansa. We need every sword we can get in the fight." With that, he rose and left the room.

Daenerys looked heartbroken and more than a little angry. She got up and left the room in the opposite direction while Sansa came over to you. "Come. I'm certain you're freezing. Let's get you a bath and some dry clothes." You gave her a grateful smile as you followed her out. As you trailed behind her, Sansa spoke. "You know, of all the Lannisters I've met, you are by far my favorite. You aren't like your family."

"Perhaps because I was not raised by them, my lady." Sansa smiled and laughed softly. For a few seconds, she didn't speak. Then she said, "I believe you and Jon would be good together." You nearly tripped on the hem of your wet, dirty dress. "I-I...I don't know what you mean, my lady." Sansa giggled again, something that seemed out of place in her otherwise somber countenance.

"Everyone saw how Jon was looking at you in there. And I remember how close you were all those years ago. You loved Jon and I think you still do." You let out a sigh. "Of course I do. Even though I knew there was never any hope for us. The Imp's daughter and Ned Stark's bastard? As soon as my identity was discovered, I was shipped off to King's Landing to learn to be a proper lady and Jon was destined for the Wall. We were doomed before we even met."

"Now you sound like him," Sansa said with a sigh. She turned to look at you as you stopped outside one of the doors. "After you are cleaned up, you should talk to him." She opened the door and ushered you inside. As soon as you were settled, Sansa left and you enjoyed a warm bath. You let out a groan as the warmth began seeping into your sore muscles. You hadn't known how badly you needed to relax.

You heard the door open and sighed. You thought it was a handmaiden or someone that Sansa sent with a new dress, without opening your eyes, you said, "I can dress myself, thank you. Please just put the dress on the bed." For a moment, there was no response. Your brows furrowed and you were about to speak again when someone beat you to it.

"I think you have me mistaken for someone else." Your eyes flew open and you looked over at the door where Jon was still standing. He was a respectful distance away so he couldn't see anything, but you felt your skin heat up anyway. "J-Jon...the door." Jon's own face turned red. "I'll come back once you've finished." He turned to leave.

"Jon, I just meant you should close the door. The last thing I want is for someone I don't know to see me like this." Jon slowly closed the door and turned back to you. Silence came over the two of you again. You simply stared into each other's eyes from across the room. Then you spoke at the same time, saying each other's names. You giggled as you motioned for Jon to continue.

"I've missed you. At the Wall thoughts of you kept me up nights." You felt yourself flush again. You cleared your throat. "It seems you didn't miss me nearly as much as I missed you." At Jon's confused look, you went on, "Daenerys. I saw the way she looked at you. Like she's got you wrapped around her finger." Jon was by your side, kneeling next to the tub, in an instant.

"It was one time. And I never felt for her the depth of feeling I have always had for you." You looked into his dark eyes, which were still on your face despite how close he was. "Do you mean that?" His lips turned up slightly into a small smile. "I do. Y/N, no one could ever compare to you. I have already told Daenerys that nothing will come of our time together. She isn't you."

You beamed at him as tears pricked your eyes. At least there was something good coming from all the bad in this. You had Jon. "I should go. I have a war to plan for." You nodded. "I'd ask you to join me in the bath first, but I'm afraid this Northern air has the water already cold," you said with a shiver." Jon chuckled before he kissed your forehead.

"It wouldn't be proper anyway." You arched a brow. "Jon, you are kneeling next to the bath where I am sitting. Naked, I might add. I don't think propriety is the issue here." Jon's face flushed again and you couldn't help but laugh. When your laughter died down, you caught Jon looking at you again. You reached over and ran your fingers over the beard covering his jaw.

"I love you, Jon." He rested his forehead against yours. "And I love you." With a grin, you reached up, wrapped your arm around his neck, and pulled him into the tub with you. Jon's laughter joined your own just before he brought his lips to yours. Water splashed to the floor as Jon tried to get up, only to slip and splash again. The winter winds blew outside and you could hear the logs crackling in the hearth, but nothing kept you as warm, as comfortable, or as loved as having Jon there with you.  

(a/n: I tried to make the reader be able to dislike Daenerys without actually making her...hateful, if that makes sense.)