GoT One-Shots Book 3!

I Was Wrong (Jon Snow x fem!reader)

You and Jon had never gotten along as children. Like your brother Theon, you had been taken in by Lord Stark at a young age. Unlike Theon, however, you were far more likely to let your anger at the situation show. More often than not, you let that anger out on the only person you knew you wouldn't get scolded for. Jon. And he gave as well as he got so the two of you were always arguing. Jon thought you were a spoiled little princess who was afraid to get dirty. You thought he simply hated you because he was a bastard and you weren't. It was horrendous for everyone else around you and, unfortunately, it would take years for anything to change.

*time skip*

Jon could feel his body slowing down. It had been a long, hard battle and it was beginning to take its toll on the young man. For a brief moment, Jon wondered if this was indeed the end for him. For real this time. However, he didn't have time to ponder his imminent demise for very long. From seemingly out of nowhere, a figure was by his side. They fought alongside him and all Jon could make out was (h/c) hair and armor that seemed...different.

Whoever this person was, they were an excellent fighter. Thanks to them and the other fighters, Jon's battle was soon won. Before Jon could thank his savior, they had disappeared. The dark-haired man searched throughout the camp and the stronghold to no avail. He simply couldn't find who he was looking for. That is, until he made his way to the forges where the blacksmiths were resting. It was there that he noticed the (h/c) hair and peculiar armor.

His savior was speaking with one of the blacksmiths when Jon approached. The blacksmith noticed him first and bowed. Jon opened his mouth to thank the warrior who had saved him, only to be met with a face he'd never forget. "Lady Y/N?" he asked in surprise. You gave him a soft, tired smile. "Your Grace," you greeted with curtsy that looked odd given that you were wearing armor.

"Leave us," Jon ordered softly. Your men looked to you and you nodded with another smile. As the soldiers, bannermen, and blacksmiths filed out, the air in the room grew thick with an odd tension. It was as if neither one of you knew how the other was going to react. When you were alone, Jon met your gaze once again.

"You saved me," he stated simply and you shrugged. "I did. I couldn't very well let the King in the North die, could I?" Jon stared for a moment. His dark eyes were practically boring into your soul. "Why?"

"Why?" you repeated as your brows scrunched in confusion. Jon asked why you saved him. Why couldn't you have let him die? "Yes, Y/N, why? You hate me. Since we were children." You let out a scoff and shook your head. "I never hated you, Jon," you admitted. Jon's eyes widened a bit. "I mean, I didn't particularly like you, but I never hated you. I think, as children, you were so desperate to be like Robb and Theon, the people who teased me mercilessly, that I was hurt. And I didn't like that you were so bitter about the circumstances of your birth. But hate was never a feeling I had for you."

Jon didn't reply, causing another awkward silence to descend between you. You shuffled from one foot to the other for a bit before speaking again, "I-I should return to the celebrations with my men. Goodnight, Your Grace." You turned to walk away. "I was wrong," Jon's quiet voice cut through the dark, empty space. You paused and glanced over your shoulder.

"I was wrong," he repeated, "I always thought you were, well, like Lady Stark with me. I believed you thought lowly of me because of my birth. I thought you were a spoiled lady who was afraid to get her hands dirty. I'm sorry." You smiled at him. "You're forgiven. As long as you can forgive me for being wrong about you. You're a good king, Jon, and an even better man." Jon finally returned your smile which seemed to prompt you to leave the area. He watched you go hoping that this was the start of a new friendship.

(a/n: I am open to writing a 2nd part)