Seriously, this meme only has three fills after like three days??!?!
Here's some Stannis/Jon to rectify that...
Upon his return to the Wall, King Stannis Baratheon hadn’t cared about how Jon had survived his attempted assassination, Melisandre’s growing distress, or the ravens that brought news more dire by the day. He had a kingdom to defend, and most other matters didn’t deserve his time and effort.
The Wall didn’t have as many men as Jon would have liked. And it never will, Jon caught himself thinking as the sun began to set earlier and earlier and the full moon soon became a sight few remembered seeing. Despite this, at least the men of the Night’s Watch, the wildlings, and Stannis’ soldiers were well disciplined and rarely questioned a word that either their Lord Commander or their king said. Rising from the dead and vanquishing enemies in the dead of winter had that effect on people. Jon had even caught a few men bowing low to Ghost out of respect once (or perhaps it had been fear), much to his amusement.
Jon felt colder than before, if that was even possible. He supposed it wasn’t just the ice towering above him that made him feel that way, but the loneliness that pierced through his furs surer than any biting wind. Everyone at the Wall refused to meet his eyes nowadays, for fear of showing disrespect or perhaps of wariness of whatever power had brought him back to life. Even Satin would determinedly stare at his shoes whenever he brought meals to Jon’s solar. Of course, “everyone” naturally didn’t include the king, and when Stannis’ eyes met his they didn’t have the love and friendship that Jon so desperately craved. Still, though, he would take derision, disapproval, impatience, and grudging respect any day over another pair of haunting blue eyes he prayed never to see again.
Stannis, it seemed, wasn’t as impervious to the cold as he led his men to think. He had taken to inviting Jon to his solar in the evenings for supper and to accepting Jon’s invitations to do the same. More often than not he indulged in hot mulled wine—not that it made him any more agreeable to talk to. The two of them would still scoff at and argue with each other, but there was always good reason and logic behind their biting and bitter words.
Perhaps Stannis realizes how cold loneliness is as well, mused Jon, and he smiled inwardly whenever the young Seaworth boy would inform him that His Grace requested the Lord Commander to dine with him that evening.
FILL: Stannis/Jon, Scars 1/4
Here's some Stannis/Jon to rectify that...
Upon his return to the Wall, King Stannis Baratheon hadn’t cared about how Jon had survived his attempted assassination, Melisandre’s growing distress, or the ravens that brought news more dire by the day. He had a kingdom to defend, and most other matters didn’t deserve his time and effort.
The Wall didn’t have as many men as Jon would have liked. And it never will, Jon caught himself thinking as the sun began to set earlier and earlier and the full moon soon became a sight few remembered seeing. Despite this, at least the men of the Night’s Watch, the wildlings, and Stannis’ soldiers were well disciplined and rarely questioned a word that either their Lord Commander or their king said. Rising from the dead and vanquishing enemies in the dead of winter had that effect on people. Jon had even caught a few men bowing low to Ghost out of respect once (or perhaps it had been fear), much to his amusement.
Jon felt colder than before, if that was even possible. He supposed it wasn’t just the ice towering above him that made him feel that way, but the loneliness that pierced through his furs surer than any biting wind. Everyone at the Wall refused to meet his eyes nowadays, for fear of showing disrespect or perhaps of wariness of whatever power had brought him back to life. Even Satin would determinedly stare at his shoes whenever he brought meals to Jon’s solar. Of course, “everyone” naturally didn’t include the king, and when Stannis’ eyes met his they didn’t have the love and friendship that Jon so desperately craved. Still, though, he would take derision, disapproval, impatience, and grudging respect any day over another pair of haunting blue eyes he prayed never to see again.
Stannis, it seemed, wasn’t as impervious to the cold as he led his men to think. He had taken to inviting Jon to his solar in the evenings for supper and to accepting Jon’s invitations to do the same. More often than not he indulged in hot mulled wine—not that it made him any more agreeable to talk to. The two of them would still scoff at and argue with each other, but there was always good reason and logic behind their biting and bitter words.
Perhaps Stannis realizes how cold loneliness is as well, mused Jon, and he smiled inwardly whenever the young Seaworth boy would inform him that His Grace requested the Lord Commander to dine with him that evening.