Game of Thrones: Imagines and one shots. Book three

The bastard and the orphan - Part 2 - Jon x Reader

"I swear that I have quite lost my mind." She scolded herself, as she and her mare made their way through the snow and wind. The only thing lighting her way, a lamp on the end of a long branch. The rider no idea how it was still alight given the maelstrom that seemed to surround her. She had to admit that she had done and said some very silly things in her life. Things that had got her in considerable trouble and almost killed; but this.........this currently seemed to be quite the most idiotic thing that she had done.

Up until recently, (Y/n) had talked herself out of this folly. Telling herself that he wouldn't remember her. That their time together might as well have been a lifetime ago. That despite being said to be a bastard, he had been the King of the North, the lover of the Mother of Dragons. And what was she...........? Still nothing but an orphan. Even her grandparents were now dead. And as far as he was probably concerned, she might as well be dead too. And even if he did recall her, she was nothing compared to the Targaryen. All she was, was a simple woman. Yet.......here she was.

Jon Snow...............supposed bastard son of Eddard Stark. Oh, how things had changed. She had met him when they were both still small. She a girl being brought up by her maternal grandparents and he, the bastard despised by the Lady Catelyn. He had nearly bumped into that first time. She, carrying two pails of water for her grandfather, who had been spending the day helping with the horses and sharpening the swords of the household guard. The young boy giving her the softest, sweetest smile, before introducing himself and taking one of the buckets from her. And from that moment, well...........he had been her friend.

She had to admit that they were an odd pair. The bastard and the orphan. Jon, the quiet, softly spoken boy, that was never allowed to forget that he was illegitimate, especially by the lady of the House. And she..........well, she had always been far from quite and softly spoken. The orphan, stubborn, opinionated, and strong willed. Never wanting to standby and let anything that she saw as an injustice, pass. The young (Y/n), more than happy to stand up to the likes of Theon Greyjoy, when he would tease Jon, when he would turn his sights on her. (Y/n) telling him, that at least her father had not had to give her up, because he couldn't win a war. That he hadn't been foolish enough to start a rebellion that he couldn't finish. The orphan and the ward, getting into physical fights on more than one occasion. Yet despite these differences, (Y/n) and Jon had made it work. The granddaughter of the blacksmith, finding that she quite enjoyed looking after Jon. That it made her happy to always be there when he had needed someone. But as they had grown, things had changed; her mind drifting to other things, when she had finally realised that her best friend was in fact a very handsome boy. Jon the first........the only one that she had shared a kiss with. (Y/n) always believing that there may have been more; that one day they might even have wed, if those damn Baratheons and Lannisters had not come to Winterfell. If Ned Stark hadn't allowed himself to be talked into becoming the Hand of the King in Kings Landing. Yet all that was just wishful thinking, and anyway, he had been the one to take the black. He had been the one to say that he was not worthy of her. That goodbye, the hardest that she had ever had to go through. But still............here she was.

"What am I doing, Ruby?" The woman asked her auburn mare, that continued to trudge valiantly through the snow. The horse choosing to say nothing in reply.

"No. I don't either. Perhaps we should just turn around and go to Winterfell? I think that if we got there, Lady Sansa would be good to us. Maybe she would even let me take over what's left of my grandfather's shop." The orphan continued, Ruby's head now nodding in agreement; (Y/n) unable to stop herself from laughing.

As much as she liked the notion of being able to rebuild her grandfather's forge, her memories of the great northern castle had been tainted. The last time that she had seen it, she had been fighting the dead. One of the Walkers about to strike a killing blow, before it had shattered into pieces. The time before that, she had been fighting against the Krakens, against Greyjoy; and then against the Bolton's. (Y/n) finding herself thrown into the dungeons so that Ramsay Bolton could wreak his sadistic revenge, when it took his fancy. But she had been no fool, the granddaughter of the man that had forged not only the shackles used on her wrists, but also the bars of the dungeon that held her, not idiotic enough to get locked away, without the means to escape. Without the ability to elude her captors. That, and if she did go back, she knew that it would never be the same. That most of those that had made the great castle a home, were now long since dead. The only thing that she had left...........Jon.

Jon.........the man that she had been thinking more and more about. Her thoughts going to what he might be doing now that he had been exiled. (Y/n) hoping, that even if he didn't remember her, even if he no longer cared for her; she might be able to find herself a place amongst the Wildlings, whom he now lived with.

Suddenly there was the sounding of a horn. (Y/n) just about able to make out dark figures moving around on the battlement of Castle Black. The woman pulling on the Ruby's reins, as a voice called out.

"What do you want...............?"

"What's it got to do with you, you ugly shit. Fetch me Jon Snow and I'll tell him why I'm here............." (Y/n) replied, as she sat proudly up in her saddle. The men going quiet until another, different, yet very familiar voice called out.

"(Y/n)................?"