Falling Like || Jon Snow

41| 𝔟𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔰

winterfell, the north

— THE DAWN'S BREAKING WAS COLD AND UNFORGIVING. The men were quiet but restless, and the horses nervous. Nymeria had decided to leave Koda behind at camp with Sansa and Lyanna and the few guards that had remained with them. The last thing she wanted was to lose him to this battle, a fate he most certainly did not deserve. She rode a white mare now, stationed at the front of their army as Jon rode up through the ranks, surveying them one last time. The men near Nymeria shifted nervously, giving her a wider berth, but for once, it wasn't because of her. No, she suspected it had more to do with the large dark-furred bear at her side who huffed and growled impatiently at her mother's side. The only ones who didn't seem so intimidated were Tormund and Wun Wun, who stood just opposite of Wren from the Huntress.

Jon's eyes didn't hold much hope when he came to a stop beside her. Only darkness. Scattered through the field between them and the Boltons stood a few burning Xs. It was hard to see from here whether they were empty or not, but there was no mistaking the smell of burning flesh for anything else.

She glanced over at him. "Hey." Her voice was soft, but firm. Encouraging. "We've fought worse odds before, remember? And we're still here."

"Aye." He agreed. "But we don't have a Wall to protect us this time." He nodded at the castle. "They do."

"Remember what you said to me that night?" He shot her a small, confused frown. "I was ready to give up, and you told me that we were going to make it, because they could never win if we refused to die. Not if we'd never surrender." His eyes lightened slightly at the memory, and she offered a tiny smile. "Even if it's just you and I. Right?"

He nodded. "Even if it's just you and I."

Across the field, a singular horse broke rank, the rider descending to walk calmly a few paces towards them. Nymeria felt Jon tense beside her at the sight of the figure he pulled with him, hands restrained with rope, and she was reminded of something Sansa had said to her the night before. He can't accept that Rickon is not going to make it, and I'm afraid it's going to get him killed too. Rickon is our father's last remaining trueborn son. As long as he lives, Ramsay's claim on the North is threatened, and when Ramsay feels threatened... Ramsay stopped, drawing a blade. He raised it in the air, and Jon dismounted, pacing forward, breathing hard. Ramsay cut Rickon's bonds. A deep crease etched itself between Nymeria's brows. She had no idea what he was plotting, and chances were, that meant they were about to get fucked. She exchanged worried looks with Davos, who looked equally perplexed.

Then Ramsay released the boy. For a second, he just stumbled forwards, moving slowly and looking back, as if confused. When a man appeared at Ramsay's side with a bow and quiver and Rickon started running, she finally understood what was happening. Jon turned on his heel, rushing back to mount his horse. "Jon, don't-" Nymeria warned, fear leaking into her voice, but she should've known it would be useless.

"Hiyah, hiyah!" He charged forwards.

"Jon!" As if sensing her fear and the urge to follow, her horse moved forward a couple of steps. But Nymeria swallowed the horrible taste in her mouth and tugged back on the reins, making the mare stop. "Hold!" she ordered, though she was surprised the word made it out past the thudding in her chest. The first arrow missed, and Nymeria knew he was taunting them intentionally. She knew from the way Sansa talked and even just watching him shoot from across the field that his aim was better than that. A second arrow missed, the space between Jon and his brother nearly closed. Dread crept up her spine. A third arrow... but the fourth and final shot did not miss its mark, piercing straight through Rickon's chest and sending him tumbling to the ground. Jon's horse came to a sudden stop beside the boy, Nymeria could feel the fear beginning to weave through their ranks.