Jon dreams he is running, fast and swift, over rocks and hills. He is running away from the Wall, from his men, or men he though were his. His body aches, every inch of it, but still he runs. There is a voice he hears, urging him on, soft but distant. It is the voice of a woman but he cannot place her.
He thinks of Ygritte, with her hair kissed by fire, kissed by Jon, over and over. He thinks of Arya, of Sansa, of Catelyn. He thinks of the mother he was not allowed to know, the one he could not mourn, for how can you miss something you have never known.
He rests, finally, and he can feel her hands on him. She is firm but gentle, stroking his face, the back of his neck, his shoulders. Her touch calms him, settles the pulse of blood in his veins, it brings the darkness around him.
~
When he truly wakes, Jon does not know where he is, and the unimaginable pain in his neck and torso shoots like fire through his body. A cold heat that makes Jon turn his head just enough to retch in the bowl beside him, clearly this is not the first time this has happened.
“Stay still now,” a voice says, and Jon opens his eyes to see Val looking at him with heavy lidded eyes, suggesting she has seen little rest.
“Val?” Jon’s voice is deep and grave, he frowns, unused to the voice he hears.
“Hush now, don’t speak, not yet.”
She presses a cool cloth to his face, and he inhales the scent of her wrist over his face, soft and woody, with a touch of rosemary. He has so many questions, needs so many answers to understand the situation they are in.
“You need to heal, Jon,” Val says, as if sensing his desperation, her hand on his cheek. “Rest now, save your strength. We’re going to need it.”
He can tell from the temperature they are no longer at Castle Black, they may even be past Brandon’s Gift. “I'm going to die” he croaks, despite her warnings but she does not chastise him, only looks at him, fury in her eyes. He nods, telling her it’s all right, I ready for it.
“Not tonight, Jon Snow,” she says. She leans down and presses her mouth against his forehead before she lies down next to him, her face against his shoulder.
Fill: with you upon the wind, Jon/Val (ADWD spoilers) Part I
He thinks of Ygritte, with her hair kissed by fire, kissed by Jon, over and over. He thinks of Arya, of Sansa, of Catelyn. He thinks of the mother he was not allowed to know, the one he could not mourn, for how can you miss something you have never known.
He rests, finally, and he can feel her hands on him. She is firm but gentle, stroking his face, the back of his neck, his shoulders. Her touch calms him, settles the pulse of blood in his veins, it brings the darkness around him.
~
When he truly wakes, Jon does not know where he is, and the unimaginable pain in his neck and torso shoots like fire through his body. A cold heat that makes Jon turn his head just enough to retch in the bowl beside him, clearly this is not the first time this has happened.
“Stay still now,” a voice says, and Jon opens his eyes to see Val looking at him with heavy lidded eyes, suggesting she has seen little rest.
“Val?” Jon’s voice is deep and grave, he frowns, unused to the voice he hears.
“Hush now, don’t speak, not yet.”
She presses a cool cloth to his face, and he inhales the scent of her wrist over his face, soft and woody, with a touch of rosemary. He has so many questions, needs so many answers to understand the situation they are in.
“You need to heal, Jon,” Val says, as if sensing his desperation, her hand on his cheek. “Rest now, save your strength. We’re going to need it.”
He can tell from the temperature they are no longer at Castle Black, they may even be past Brandon’s Gift. “I'm going to die” he croaks, despite her warnings but she does not chastise him, only looks at him, fury in her eyes. He nods, telling her it’s all right, I ready for it.
“Not tonight, Jon Snow,” she says. She leans down and presses her mouth against his forehead before she lies down next to him, her face against his shoulder.