[closed] So lie to me, but do it with sincerity

[kindlings]

Who: Ygritte and Jon Snow (kissedbyflame and starkbastard)
What: Stark!pain and spearwife!pain
When: continuation of this thread, backdated to day 201. Jon's got some 'splainin' to do.
Where: outside of Freya
Rating: PG for anger and honesty and feels ;~;




Ygritte waited, somewhat impatiently, outside of the house she resided in. Knowing that she was to see Jon Snow again should have served to excite her—instead, after hearing how hesitant he was regarding what he needed to discuss with her, she felt a sense of foreboding. After all, it wasn't like him to outright refuse her advances, as though he'd forgotten that he'd so recently shared her furs during their trek towards the Wall.

She steeled herself, biting her lip, and huffed indignantly as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Comments

[starkbastard]

He had pushed off this conversation for as long as he had been able to, but Jon knew he couldn't keep silence for much longer. Ygritte was pressing harder to share his furs again and with each smile she gave him, he felt his resolve wavered and he knew he needed to tell her the truth. Would he have been honest with himself, the Lord Commander had chosen to tell her not to save his vows, but simply because he couldn't take any longer to lie to the spearwife. Even as they had crossed the Wall and as they had traveled south to Castle Black, before he left them, he had considered telling her the truth. To let her know that his heart may be hers, but he was still a man of the Night's Watch. That he had ever turned his cloak, in his heart.

With Longclaw swaying on his back as he walked, Ghost at his heels. He was still dressed in black, still wearing the new cloak he had been given after coming back to the Watch. That alone, he knew, was a hint of what was to come. The red haired Wildling was easy to spot, and he walked over her, half a smile on his lips as he ignored the flutter of nervousness in his chest.

"Ygritte," he greeted her, "do you want to walk around while we talk?" Gods, this already wasn't easy, was it?

[kindlings]

It was cold, outside—not nearly as cold as north of the Wall, the Haunted Forest or the Frostfangs—and Ygritte wondered briefly why he didn't want to have this conversation in an enclosed space. Perception was her strong point, even if she did seem to have blinders on sometimes with regard to the young Crow-come-over. Was he hoping to make a quick getaway, if she did not like what he had to speak?

"Aye, as y'like." She put her hood up over the tangle of fire-kissed hair and began walking beside him. To feel him out, she suggested, "We'd be much more comfortable inside, by a warm fire, but y' don't seem like you want t' shed that cloak o' yours."

[starkbastard]

His wanting of them talking outside had nothing to do with the chance of a quick escape: she'd prove to him that any sort of escape he'd try, he would end up maimed. The scar on his thigh was proof enough of that. He knew Ygritte wouldn't be very happy with the news he was to give her, and perhaps outside there would not be as much material damage as if they had spoken inside.

The suggestion almost made him smile: it would have if they'd been back raiding with Styr's band. He would have teased her about not being a real Wildling if a bit of cold was bothering her, she would have certainly punched him before showing him that she did not fear the cold and he would have not minded it...but he could not think like this now. No matter what he wanted or felt, he was not hers anymore. He tensed lightly and shook his head:

"I can not Ygritte," he offered quietly before raising his gaze to her face. "I...do you know that the Gods of this place may not take us all from the same moment in time? Here, I am older than my eldest brother, Robb..." How was he to explain that he knew of their future? Of hers, of what was waiting for her at Castle Black? Of how he was more than ever tied to the Watch, now?

[kindlings]

She eyed him warily from the corner of her sheepskin parka's hood. There wasn't much sense in what he was saying...different moments in time? He was now older than his eldest brother?

"Y' don't look older," she argued stubbornly, not liking the direction their conversation was taking. But truth be told, if she were honest, he did look different—a bit more rugged, rough around the edges, as though the boy in him whom she'd conquered between their furs along the Milkwater Valley had started to turn into a man.

She didn't like that idea. "Y' don't look any different, 't all."

[starkbastard]

Jon wasn't exactly surprised by Ygritte's reaction to his words: "To you, I suppose not. It has only been merely weeks since last I..." He paused, caught in what he was about to say. He shook his head, trying to focus on what was important.

"What I mean to say, is that we may be from before or after what other remembers."

His pace slowed slightly as the frown on his brown deepened. "You said we had barely climbed down the Wall, that it was what you remembered last of Westeros. I...remember more." His tone was careful when he continued: "It has been months for me, Ygritte."

[kindlings]

"...Months," she repeated, her voice still holding disbelief.

If that were the case, then he'd seen more—much more—than she had. If it were indeed true, he'd already been part of the seige of Castle Black from the south and had helped the Magnar and Styr's band defeat his former black brothers of the Night's Watch.

"So we did it, then?" she demanded impatiently, her eyes searching his face, her own lit up with excitement that made her eyes bright. "We won Castle Black—we opened up the Wall for th' free folk to come through." She smiled in anticipation of his answer. It must have been a glorious battle; Ygritte only wished she'd been able to see it as he had.

[starkbastard]

Ygritte's excitement, her eagerness in knowing what had happened, her faith in her people could only make Jon feel even craven for having to tell her the truth. It felt like he was being stabbed right through the heart, and the pain felt seemed so akin to the one he had felt when the spearwife had shot him with an arrow.

Her words made him stop walking entirely, his gaze dropping to the ground, his head shaking slowly. "No, the Watch still holds Castle Black and the Wall." His voice was quiet, but when he spoke again, it seemed quieter.

"I flew back, Ygritte." He squeezed his eyes shot, torn apart by his own words. He had done what had been asked of him, he had done the right thing, the honorable thing. He had saved his black brothers, he had saved green boys that deserved to live. 'Then why does it still feel this hollow when I think of it?'

"I was ordered to join your ranks. The Halfhand himself asked him to kill him, he knew you would ask it of me. We...we needed to know what Mance was planning. Why he was massing his army. I didn't know about the Others, I only fought a wight...I could not let you kill us all."

His shoulders slacked, his gaze still stuck to the tip of his boots for a long moment before he finally looked up. "I am sorry, Ygritte." 'It was wrong to love her. It was wrong to leave her.'

[kindlings]

She glared hard at him.

There wasn't any other explanation; Jon Snow was telling her falsehoods. There could be no way that he'd deceived her all along, all of those nights as he marched beside them, ate their food, drank their stolen ale, sat by their fires...slept in her furs. She'd been so sure he'd turned his cloak, for them.

And he had. Hadn't he?

He was telling falsehoods. It was a jape. It had to be.

"You're lyin'," she whispered, but her voice was tremulous.

[starkbastard]

It was hard not to flinch at the glare she sent his way. He could see the anger bubbling in the sea green of her eyes and Jon felt his heart tighten at the sight of it. He had never meant to hurt her, he had never meant to love her either. It wasn't only for his vows that he had keep away from her at the beginning. It had been because he hadn't wanted complications that might have made his order harder to achieve.

And yet it had been to no avail. Jon had been hers never the less; he had loved her and shared her furs and had thought of leaving the Watch for her.

The hitch in her voice caused him to take a step towards her despite himself, his gaze torn and sorrowful. He did not want to have this conversation with her, no more than he wanted to tell her of her death. But he had to. He had to.

"You know I don't lie proper, Ygritte."