What was long lost

Jon

Jon's head filled with images of Ygritte. Kissed by fire. The first woman he laid with. The first woman he fell in love with. The woman holding Arya wasn't Ygritte, he knew, but his hands shook when he thought about hurting her. Her death scene began to show in flashes in his mind, the disappointment of the tragic hour returning. He looked at Arya who was struggling against her.

Before Jon could decide though, Arya twisted in her grasp and the dagger in the woman's hand pierced through her side.

Jon's eyes went wide with horror as Arya let out a scream and dropped to her knees. He ran towards her but the woman showed him the dagger that was still in her hands, Arya's blood dripping from it.

He looked at Arya again who had dropped on the floor, eyes closed. Blood rushed out from the side of her waist.

"Arya!" He shouted.

"Do not come closer, Jon Snow. Or I will end her life."

"You are not Ygritte," Jon spat, "Arya rescued you! If not for her you would have rotted in the woods and no one would know. She said you were her friend!"

The woman's face turned sullen.

"You know nothing. No one was Jaqen H'ghar's friend. But now she is Arya Stark and I am No One," she said, "her friend wouldn't have blinked an eye in letting her go, but her God demands payment."

"I will kill you!" Jon warned.

Before he could try to though, an arrow ripped through the air and went into the woman's chest. Then another. Then another, until the dagger fell from her hands. Jon took this opportunity to attack her and shoved his sword in her stomach. He took her dagger and threw it across the room to the other side.

"You did it again, Jon." The woman said staring at him. She looked exactly like Ygritte. But Ygritte was dead.

"Jon!" A voice called from behind him. He turned to see Rickon standing there with his bow and arrows. His face was filled with horror. Jon turned to the woman then the limp body on the floor. He crouched down on the floor beside her.

"Arya! Arya!" He shouted, but she was still limp in his arms. 'Gods, please. Arya, Arya, Arya,' he reapeated her name in his mind over and over again.

"Snow!" He heard Theon's voice. The guards had arrived.

"You take Arya to the Maester. We will take care of this b***h," Theon said.

Jon nodded and picked her up in his arms gently, careful not to put pressure on the wound. He wemt directly to her room, carrying her to her bed and laid her down there. He clasped her hands between his own and kissed them fervently.

"Nothing will happen to you, Arya, I promise."

The door opened and the Maester walked in with Sansa and Rickon.

"My Lord."

"She is bleeding. Help her, please," he begged.

"I will, My Lord. But you need to leave this room while I treat her."

"I am not leaving her side!" Jon shouted.

"Jon please, let us go. The more we delay, the more risk we put her in. Please, Jon." Sansa pleaded, her eyes watering and voice choking.

Jon looked at Arya again. Her wound looked like it was still bleeding. He nodded before leaving with the other two and shut the door behind him.

As soon as they were outside, Sansa started crying. Rickon held her in his arms, but she wouldn't stop.

"What if something happens to her?" She sobbed.

Jon fisted his hands and replied,

"Nothing will happen to her, Sansa. I will bring her back from the seven hells if I have to. But I won't let anything happen to her, not again."

"Jon, you-" Rickon's voice was interrupted by the loud opening of the door. The Maester walked out with a horrified look on his face.

"My Lords, the Lady...,"

"What of Arya?" Jon asked gripping him by his shoulders.

"I-I-It's poison, My Lord. Probably the weapon had it."

'No!' Jon felt like someone had stabbed him instead. Words wouldn't come out of his mouth.

"Then give her an antidote!" Rickon exclaimed.

"I am afraid I do not know what kind of poison it is," the Maester said, "it is different. Unfamiliar."

Jon let out a grunt and stormed out. 'I will kill that man!' His blood boiled and his jaw clenched until it hurt. He went to the cells and bid all the guards out. His voice was loud and furious enough not to make them think twice about doing so.

He found her in the third cell, her hands and feet in chains, lying on the ground.

"What have you done to her?" He asked.

The woman took her hand to her face and pulled something off, and there it was. Jaqen H'ghar.

"You know you have made this more easy for me now? Tell me where is the antidote."

Jaqen only stared at him. Jon held him by the neck and leaned dangerously close to his face.

"I'll cut you piece by piece until you tell me what I want to know," he spat.

"Wouldn't it be too late by then?"

Jon punched him in the face. Blood came out of his nose and lips.

"There is no antidote. It is a Braavosi poison," the man said, "you should be grateful a girl didn't get the full knife inside her or she would be dead by now."

"Stop teling me what would have happened. Tell me how to heal her!"

"Just pray her will is stronger than the poison," he whispered.

Jon thrashed him on the ground and walked out. One more minute and he would kill him, he knew. But he won't let him die yet. He will have to suffer for what he did to Arya.

Rickon approached him before he could enter her room.

"Jon, where did you go?"

"The man said there is no antidote," his voice cracked, "she can only survive if she wishes to."

"She does, I am sure." Jon heard the tremble in Rickon's voice. He was scared too. After all he had to endure through his childhood, they were finally back as a family, and in spite of his efforts to be calm, Rickon was failing.

"Yes." 'She has to,' Jon thought.

He entered the room to find Sansa sitting near her bed, Theon standing behind her. She turned to look at Jon and managed a small smile.

"The Maester has bandaged her wound. It is not bleeding now. He's gone to inspect his herbs, to find anything that might...," her voice broke.

Theon put his hand on her shoulder and Jon noticed it was shaking.

"Sansa, we should leave Jon with Arya for a little while," he whispered to her soothingly. Sansa hesitated but nodded eventually. She took Theon's arm and walked out of the room, throwing a glance at Jon.

After the door was closed, Jon inched closer to the bed. Arya's face looked pale and calm. The Maester had cut off the lower half of her tunic and bandaged her abdomen. He sat near her and stroked her hair softly. He remembered how he loved doing that. How many times during the years he had wanted to do that, ruffle her hair and hold her close, to make sure she was safe and happy.

But he failed. He had failed then, and he had failed now. For the sake of becoming someone worthy, he had abandoned her. He wondered sometimes what would've happened if he'd just stayed at Winterfell. He could've fought beside Robb, he could've kept Arya safe. The regrets never stopped. But watching Arya lying wounded, his heart broke.

This regret was the biggest, because he was right there, close to her and he couldn't stop her from hurting. He should've stopped her from bringing that man. His instincts had told him to do so, but he didn't.

Jon leaned down and pressed a kiss on her forehead.

"You'll be fine, Arya. I promise," Jon said. He wasn't sure if it was her he was consoling or himself. "I am sorry."

"Do be so hard on yourself, Snow," Theon's voice came from behind him. Jon turned and saw him walking towards them.

"I should have protected her," Jon said looking at Arya.

Theon put a hand on his shoulder.

"Arya Stark needing your protection? Tell her that and she would probably stab you in the guts."

"She probably would. But look at her, Theon," he said pointing to her, "I cannot watch her like this. The thought of losing her again kills me."

Theon took a seat beside him.

"She is strong, Jon. And she didn't expect betrayal from her friend. No one does."

Jon looked at the man beside him. He knew Theon still couldn't get over what he'd done to Robb. Jon didn't feel sorry for his guilt, but he did feel a sense of melancholy. All of them, Arya, Rickon, Theon, himself, even Sansa, were still haunted by their pasts. The war had ended, but it had left so much ash and dust that would take years to clean. Maybe they never would.

"Prince Aegon wrote to Lord Rickon," Theon said. His brother's name caught Jon's attention. "He will be delayed in arriving here. He is at Moat Cailin. His horses seem to have caught some disease."

Jon couldn't help but feel a little grateful for this delay. He had almost forgot about the marriage offer. He wondered if Arya would accept him. The thought made his breath catch involuntarily. He remembered what had happened in the crypts. Gods, he had felt so... different. Guilty, but different. His hands fisted when he imagined Aegon kissing Arya. 'You fool!' He cursed himself.

Theon seemed to sense his discomfort.

"Snow?" He asked.

"Do you think she'll accept him?" Jon asked. His voice was low.

"I do not know. If she loves him, then yes, probably." He glanced at Jon, "Do you want her to accept him?"

Jon looked at Theon surprised. 'No!' His mind said instantly, but he kept his words to himself.

"I don't know..."

Theon smiled lightly.

"You are still stubborn, you know?" He said.

"What do you mean?" Jon asked puzzled.

"Nothing. I must go," he said, rising to his feet, "she'll be alright, Jon. She won't leave you just yet."

That day went without any improvement in Arya. The Maester said he couldn't find anything that could help her. Jon could only glare at him, but he knew it wasn't his fault.

Jon spent most of his time in Arya's bedside. Sansa came once, to tell him he should rest or at least eat something, but he wouldn't listen.

Jon barely closed his eyes. His mind was occupied with thoughts of Arya. Her laugh, her eyes, her scorn, all flashing in his mind. He even felt like crying once, but stopped himself. 'She'll be fine. There's nothing to worry about.' He spent the night in the chair beside her bed, and in spite of himself, he slowly nodded off to sleep a few hours later.

**********

There was a scent of melancholy in the air. The leaves ruffled softly as the snow fell. There was no prey today, he could sense. The wolf walked silently, the sound of his feet muffled by the snow.

Suddenly there was another scent, one of death and blood, but still it seemed to beckon him. He paused in his tracks and looked around. Everything was hidden in the dark of night. To his far right a raven cried. Then he turned and saw then. Eyes. Golden eyes staring at him from behind the trees.

He started to run towards them but as he went closer the eyes started to disappear among the trees. He ran as fast as his legs could take him, his nose searching for the familiar and strong scent, his red eyes searching the lighter ones. But by the time he reached those trees, the eyes were gone and the scent too started fading away.

The direwolf ran back to his master at breakneck speed, his white coat covered with snow. He waited outside the castle for a moment then with a growl, went inside.

"Ghost!"

Jon's breathy voice sounded like a scream in the silence of the night, even to himself. He glanced his surroundings and it dawned on him he was still in Arya's room. His breathing was ragged and his body was drenched with sweat. He stood and went to the window, opening the shutters slightly. Th cold wind caressed his face and he breathed it in, but his mind went to the girl laying in the bed. 'She'll feel cold.' He closed the windows when he heard a growl outside his door.

Jon went to the door and opened it to find his direwolf sitting and looking up at him. His hand touched his fur.

"Ghost," Jon smiled, "where were you?"

But Ghost instantly walked past him and propped up on the bed beside Arya. He tucked his head under her arm and leaned up to lick her face.

"Make her wake up," Jon whispered. He went to close the door when a weak whisper came from behind him.

"Jon...,"

His head instantly turned and he hurried towards her, his eyes burning and throat dry. He dropped to his knees and took her face in his hands. It felt a little warmer than before.

"Arya, Arya. Love please wake up."

"Jon...,"

Her eyes opened slowly and Jon's heart almost stopped when he saw those grey eyes. He kissed her on her forehead and cheeks.

"You're with me," he whispered, taking her palm and pressing it to his cheek.

Arya smiled weakly and stroked his cheek.

"I am sorry I worried you."

"No, love. You don't have to apologise," Jon kissed her palm.

"I feel tired," Arya whispered, "maybe I'll rest a bit."

Jon nodded. He pulled the covers up to her neck and stroked her forehead. Ghost tucked under the covers with her and she laughed lightly. Jon sighed in relief. 'Arya.'

"Jon?" She whispered lazily.

"Yes?"

"I dreamt of you. You told me to stay."

Jon stared at her. Her wound was the only thing stopping him from crushing her to his chest. He leaned closer to her face, feeling her warm breath mingling with his own. His lips met hers in a chaste kiss, but still he closed his eyes.

"Goodnight, love." He said stroking her hair once more.

"You won't stay?" Her voice was pleading.

"I...," the words caught in his throat. Arya was looking at him expectantly.

"I love you, Jon. Goodnight." She broke his stupor, and clutched the covers, turning her face away from him. Jon's chest tightened at the words, though he couldn't understand why. They were innocent enough, or were they? The tension in the air resurfaced. He knew better than to stay and make it worse.

He looked at Ghost who was comfortably curled up against Arya. 'At least I'll know she is safe.' He opened the door and walked out.

"Open the door, Jon!" Sansa's voice shouted from outside. Jon groaned and got up from the bed. His head felt heavy because of the inadequate amount of sleep.

"Jon, will you jus-"

He opened the door before she could finish. Sansa was standing there with a big grin on her face.

"What?" He groaned.

"Arya's awake!" She almost screamed.

"I know."

"How?" She raised an eyebrow.

"She woke up when I was with her."

"And you didn't tell me!" She exclaimed loudly.

"Sansa," he grimaced, "my ears hurt."

"And they should. She asked after you, so I thought I'd come tell you."

"Is she alright now?"

"Yes," she sighed, "though she is being quite persuasive."

"About what?" Jon asked puzzled.

"She wants to get up from the bed and go outside. And we won't let her."

"She should not get up just yet. She should be resting."

"So the Maester says. But she isn't listening."

"I'll talk to her." Jon said.

Sansa nodded. Jon closed the door and wore his cloak. Arya could be so stupid sometimes.

He walked into her room and saw her standing near the window, looking out.

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

She turned smiling, and rolled her eyes.

"Jon, I am fine. I can stand."

He raised an eyebrow at her, smirking,

"Really, Lady Stark?" He sat on the bed. She walked towards him and punched him lightly on the shoulder.

"That hurt, Lord Snow?"

Jon smirked.

"Just a little, My Lady."

She chuckled amd sat beside him on the bed, nudging his shoulder with hers.

After a few minutes of silence she spoke,

"Who is she?"

Jon looked at her sullenly. He knew who she was referring to.

"Ygritte," he whispered.

"Are you in love with her?" She asked.

"I was."

She turned to him and stared.

"And now?"

Jon thought about it. Yes, he will always love Ygritte. But was he in love with her still? 'I don't know anything, truly,' he sighed.

He looked at Arya who was staring in front of her now, biting her lip. She was probably waiting for his answer. Then suddenly she looked at him and said, her voice low.

"You don't have to tell. It is probably not my place to ask."

Jon didn't say anything. What should he tell her? Yes, it was her place. She could bloody ask him anything she wanted to. But then, he would have to answer her question. Is he in love with Ygritte still, after all these years? If yes, why does this girl sitting next to him feels like the most important person to him? He couldn't ever thing of hurting Ygritte but if it comes to Arya... would he?

Arya inched closer to him and took his face in her hands,

"It is fine, Jon. We all have things we don't want to talk about." She smiled and it tugged something deep inside Jon's heart. His hand shifted to her neck and he pulled her into a kiss. Arya's seemed suurprised at first, but then started kissing him back. Her lips were gentle and warm, opposite of what he thought they were..

It lasted for a while but Jon didn't pull away this time. He pulled her close, careful not to put too much weight on her. When they pulled away finally, Arya was breathing rapidly. Her cheeks were flushed with the softest shade of pink, making her pale skin look like roses. 'Gods!'

Before he could apologize, Arya put her thumb on his bottom lip and trailed it, whispering,

"Don't."

Jon felt like he was burning. He knew this fire. He had felt it when he had first kissed Ygritte. But this time, it was different. It was overwhelming, impatient.

It wasn't one brothers should normally feel for sisters. 'She is your cousin, not your sister.' Maybe that thought was the only one keeping him from losing his ground and admitting the immoral thing he knew he was beginning to commit. So he pushed it away. He needed to keep himself in place. If he ended up kissing her like this everyday, Gods know he won't be able to keep control.

"I was one of them."

He turned to look at her. She was biting her lip again, clutching her hands together tightly, fidgeting in her spot.

"The Faceless Men," she went on, "I was a servant of the Many Faced God, just like they were. I killed people with my own hands. Ripped their throats, gave them poison, seduced them and then stabbed their guts. I am a killer."

Jon saw the hint of tears in her eyes. He held her in his arms and she shivered. She touched his arms slightly, as if afraid he would push her away.

"If you hate me now, I'd understand."

Jon heard the fear in her voice.

"Can I ever hate you, Arya? Do you think I love you that little? We all have killed. The war has made monsters out of us all."

She clutched his clothes.

"Don't leave me alone again." She choked out between sobs. Jon held her tightly and kissed her head.

"Never."

No. It wasn't possible. He can't love anyone more than he loved this girl.

"Never," he whispered again.