The Story of Rebecca Snow (Game of Thrones fic)

Getting Closer

I awoke slowly, groggily, like my eyelids were made of lead and just did not want to open at all. My mouth was dry, it felt like it was lined with sand and powdered glass, and there was a horrible bitter taste on my tongue. How long had I slept? I tried to reach blindly for the water pitcher to fill my cup and quench my intense thirst, but my hand refused to rise higher than three or four inches before weakly falling back onto the covers. Still I kept trying. On the third attempt I heard a sigh, and felt a warm, rough hand gently take hold of my own and putting it back onto the bed. I look upwards blearily to see Benjen looking down at me again.

"Water..." I groaned, and he nodded, wordlessly tipping some of the crystal clear liquid into a cup and holding it to my parched lips. I was more than happy to gulp it down, but with simple movements Benjen took the cup from my lips after every few seconds, only letting me have sips. I suppose he was right to do so, I didn't want to make myself sick, but I still wasn't happy about it. Once the cup was empty, he replaced it on the side table and sat down next to me on the bed, not releasing my hand. A part of me didn't want to break the silence, the other did.

"How long have I slept?" I asked in barely more than a hoarse whisper.

"Three days." he murmured. Seven hells, I never slept that long after an attack. Wait a minute...

"Has the Lady Meagan arrived yet?"

"She should be here within the hour." he seemed hesitant to tell me, as if it would encourage me to strain myself on her behalf. Meagan was a close friend, I had met her when her father visited Winterfell shortly after my ninth nameday. He was right to think that, because I started trying to sit up, or at the very least prop myself on pillows and reach for the pitcher again. I noticed he still held my left hand in his own as he touched my shoulder, as if he was partly afraid I would float away or shatter. It did what he intended, I lay back in the bed as he wished.

"Don't make me request a sedative from Maester Luwin," he half smiled, "You know how desperate he is to try those things out."

"But, Meagan's going to be here..." I protested weakly, still trying to rise. The hand went back to my shoulder, and I went back to the bed.

"The Lady Martell can wait until you are strong enough to receive her." he chastised. I let out an annoyed sound, and he cupped the side of ny face with his free hand. His dark chocolate eyes were serious.

"Please, Becca. Don't strain yourself again. I can't simply 'let' another fit happen because you wished to be the perfect hostess. The Martell girl will be well received, and when you're stronger I'll bring her through. No sooner, no later. Now please, by the Seven, rest."

I bit back a reply. He had called me Becca. Sure it had happened before, but more often than not it was 'sweetling' or 'little one'. I didn't reply, I just nodded quietly and adjusted the way I lay on the bed so I only took up half. His eyebrow raised, I could tell he was wondering what I was doing. Pulling gently on his hand, he let me guide him onto the bed so I could curl into him. The last thing I could remember before falling asleep was his strong arms wrapping round me and his warm breath on my hair.

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I stepped cautiously into the courtyard, my arm wrapped around Benjen's for 'support'. To be honest after my sleep I was feeling strong enough to walk with just one cane but a mixture of me not wanting to let go of him and him being too protective to let go of me had us both telling everyone he was helping me stay upright. Was I complaining? Gods no. I spotted Meagan talking with Robb and Jon on the other side of the courtyard. While we crossed the stony yard I was distracted by Sansa cooing over Joffrey. Ugh. Still I had been meaning to talk to her.