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WHO: Jon Snow
WHERE: Along the road; Margaery's home
WHEN: 9 September
OPEN TO: All - feel free to find him along the road in the village or at the inn dropping off the game he's killed.
WARNINGS: N/A
STATUS: Open

Jon had spent the last several weeks with a certain routine: he awoke early and took to the woods when the animals were still grazing and hunted what he could. He never shot the first animal he saw because, in theory, if there were enough to be eating, he would see another and be able to take it instead. If he never saw another, it would be a good thing he hadn't taken the first. That had been one of the many lessons he'd learned from his lord father and he'd carried it with him to the Wall and now to this place.

Afterward, he would check his snares to see if anything small had wandered into the traps. He'd gotten lucky with rabbits, of late, and while the pelts were small, he still skinned them and saved them in hopes that there was something they could make from them. He knew that winter would come to this place eventually and none of the clothing that their captors had given them had seemed especially warm to Jon. There was no fur on any of them; how would they keep warm during the winter with no fur to line their collars or wrists?

After the work of the day was done, he would take his kills to the inn to be cooked and would spend much of the rest of the day surveying his own home for repairs. There had been a leaky roof that he'd had to patch with little in the way of supplies and Jon hoped that the ground wouldn't quake again and cause actual damage to the building itself. He had no tools to fix it and, truthfully, these homes were nothing like anything he'd seen in Westeros. He knew how to thatch a castle roof, yes, but these homes had something else entirely.

Come mid afternoon, he found himself wanting to check on the Lady Margaery. She had her own house some distance along the road away from his own and if she needed repairs, he imagined she'd be less suited to complete them than he was. It was with that purpose in mind that he headed out along the road, head bent, to see if there was something he might do for her.

It was an offer made of kindness, he told himself. Nothing more and nothing less.

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"Old habits die hard," Jon said, huffing out a short, sharp laugh. "You are a lady, Margaery, and I am a bastard who got upjumped to a king. It's not a mantle I'm comfortable bearing just yet."

If he ever returned to Winterfell, though, that was something he would have to be used to, being called a king. He only hoped that he'd be worthy of it, that he would be a good lord like his father had been.

"My family were stewards once. We do not have the prestigious line of the Starks. Bastard or not, you have the blood of the first men. That is a pedigree I can't boast. In this place, we are equals. There are no titles, no houses, we must all survive together. We are friends, allies, family."

She grabbed hold of his hand, giving him a squeeze. "No more 'my lady.'"

"No more my lady, then, but only because you have insisted upon it," Jon said. It would be difficult to break the habit if only because it had been ingrained in him since he was a young boy to always respect his betters but for her, he would try.

"If I slip up, are you going to punish me?"

"You make it sounds as though you want me to," she returned, that natural flirtation rising to the surface. "What did they teach you in the Night's Watch? I would say you have quite a lot of cheek for a man that lived in the cold."

It was pleasant though to see that he was not always dour and brooding. It didn't suit him as well as levity did.

"We have to keep warm somehow," Jon said, shrugging a little. He always felt like he was duller than she, unable to keep up with her turns of phrase and the quips she delivered with ease and simplicity. He supposed it had to do with being from the North; Northerners were always more forthright than their Southron counterparts. Even a Northern lord lived a peasant's life compared to the South.

"Sometimes it's solely through amusing ourselves throughout the long night. It gets dark early that far in the North."

"Now there is a story in all of this that I must hear someday," she linked her arm through his, leaning closer as though they were discussing dark secrets. "All of the stories of the wall. I knew that no matter how far North you went, men could not be as dour as you present yourselves as."

She grinned, "Tell me a secret then."

"I have no real secrets," Jon admitted. It was true, for the most part. He carried little with him in the manner of secrets; still, there were a few things he could share with her that others wouldn't know. He thought for a moment, trying to decide what was safe.

"I loved a woman once," he said softly. That was safe. Ygritte was dead and gone, the Wall far away. His vows were a thing of the past.

That was a surprise, though she suspected Jon was capable of such things. The Stark men had a strong sense of honor and duty, but very little restraint when passion presented itself. Though it seemed to be a difficult goal to reach.

"Did you? She must have been a rare woman." She offered, sensing that he did not extend his heart often or recklessly.

"She was extraordinary," Jon agreed. It was difficult to speak of Ygritte, even now, and he hated to do it. He hated to speak of her in the past when Ygritte had been such a vibrant presence in his life. She had bent everything and everyone around her to her will and had been a true force of nature; Jon missed her more than he could ever say.

"I still miss her now."

She could hear the emotion in his voice. Gently, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a hug, hoping to soothe away that sorrow. It was small compared to his loss, but acted as a gentle reminder that he wasn't alone.

"She is with you, even if she isn't here physically. She is a part of you."

"Much to my regret," Jon said. The embrace felt nice, even if it only served to remind him just how truly alone he was. This place had given him his brother, which was a blessing, but it still hadn't given him Ygritte or even eliminated some of the isolation he felt at being a bastard. If anything, having Robb and Margaery here magnified it.

"She's burned into my heart now and no matter what I do, I won't ever feel that ease."

He wasn't alone in her mind, though that mattered little to what he felt. Being a bastard was meaningless here, yet it was likely a shame that he couldn't escape. Not after so long of experiencing the stigma of Westeros. All she was able to do was show him how much his friendship meant to her and how well she thought of him.

She held him tightly, wishing that she could do more for him. "She can never be replaced, but I believe that there may come a day when another will come into your life and ease your heart. You deserve better than to be alone."

"Possibly. I had vows to consider, once, though now that's a thing of the past. I'm not in the Night's Watch any longer."

He'd been relieved of that duty by his death, after all, and he could consider the vow fulfilled. He had kept the Watch until he died in service of it; he had only expected his death to come from a Wildling or a Wight and not from his own Brothers. Still, he had other duties now. He was the King in the North, the White Wolf, and he likely would need to marry someone to continue House Stark.

Or would that fall to Sansa? Would she have to marry to preserve the line while he held the title of King? Jon didn't know. He knew little and less about politics and politics were rapidly becoming the most important things in his life. Being in this place was a respite from that at least.

"You are a King as well," Margaery said, her mind following Jon's in a similar direction. The crown always had a particular interest for her, even when she was free of the usual politics of Westeros. She would always be curious to see which direction the wind would blow.

"I would offer my hand and my house's support, but I think the time for that has long passed." She teased him, making light of the terrible reality. She was out of the game now and had nothing let to go back to.

"Forgive me, we have drifted to a melancholy subject."

"I could not marry anyone just yet," Jon said, a little shocked at the suggestion. He had yet to really think of himself as a king, all told, and being reminded of it so suddenly was a little jarring. As King in the North, he would need to win the North (at least all that lie above Moat Cailin) and prove his sovereignty. Only then could he consider taking a wife.

"There are battles to be fought. I am not yet sure if every Northern house is willing to fight to be independent from the Iron Throne."

"Given the state of the kingdom now, after what Cersei has done to the Sept of Baelor, I cannot imagine any realm in the Seven Kingdoms would follow her. I think that you will find a great number of houses will band together with you. If the Tyrells were still standing, they would join any side that destroyed the Lannisters."

She shook her head, getting to her feet and moving once more to the window. "Some things are better left to my nightmares as it is."

"House Tyrell did not join the Starks in the War of Five Kings, though," Jon pointed out gently. Likely that was not a decision made by Margaery herself, but by others in her house, but the North would be hesitant to trust a Southron house after having been betrayed at the Twins.

"The North is different. We are fiercely proud and think more of honor than alliance. We think more of sixty men who are loyal than a hundred thousand mercenaries. Perhaps that is what gets us killed," Jon conceded, "But it is our way."

"No," she said, her face darkening, obviously wounded by the reminder. The guilt was overwhelming, knowing that she had played a part in House Stark's downfall. Had they sided with them, the Lannisters might have been overthrown. "We paid the price for our choice, Jon. I paid the price."

She wrapped her arms around her waist, shielding the sudden chill that ran up her spine. "I only wish we were worthy of your house's regard."

"It is not a matter of being worthy," Jon said. "It is a matter of what the other houses in the North will think. The Northerners are a proud people and value loyalty above all else. They were betrayed by one of their own, by House Bolton, and if House Stark suddenly cast lots with House Tyrell, who did not fight with them? The North would not follow."

These were things he'd learned from Sansa. His sister was much more savvy about the political machinations of the great houses than Jon had ever been or would be and he suspected that he did not give her nearly enough credit for her work. Oh, but if his sister were here. Then he could know she was safe.

"To hold the North, you must have honor. You must have loyalty. You must be practical and fair. Justice will hold the North, not gold or politics."

"Honor and justice are lovely things and admirable in men, but our world is not kind to them." They were not traits that would keep or conquer a country. She knew the war that Cersei would wage, especially to reclaim the North. It wasn't the time to dismiss help from any region, not when there was a mad dog on the throne.

However, in the end, it was help she could not extend. As much as she wished she could, she was not able to play the game anymore or plan for her family.

She placed her face in her hands, shutting her mind from the guilt, the pain and the frustration that was filling her. She had sided with Renly and Joffery and it apparently would be impossible to soothe the pride of the North. Her family paid the price.

Was this how Robb would feel? Is this how he would view her and all of the Tyrells. No matter the life she had here, that all of them had here, they were still very much a part of their houses. That wasn't easily ended or separated. Perhaps loyalties and divisions would carry over? She couldn't say, but it worried her.

"Forgive me, I'm feeling rather tired. I think I should prefer to rest. I will show you the places that are in need of repair another time."

"I am sorry if I have disturbed you, Lady Margaery," Jon said, trying to smooth things over. He knew that while he liked her personally, allying their houses was something else entirely. It wasn't so simple as a shared meal or a kind word.

"You should rest," he said, giving her a little smile. "And if you have need of me, you will come find me? I would do anything you needed to make things more comfortable for you."

She looked at Jon sadly. He hadn't done anything wrong but spoke honestly about the lands of the North and of how his people felt. She couldn't fault him for holding true to those values.

It wasn't what he said that hurt, it was the guilt. Her family hadn't sided with Starks and because of that, many good men died. She paid the price for her decisions, but it would never be enough.

"I know you would, Jon." She said softly. "I hope that you don't doubt that I would do the same for you, should you want my help."

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