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m_findlowTitle: Blood ties
Fandom: Game of Thrones
Characters/Pairings: Jon Snow
Author: m_findlow
Word Count: 500 words
Rating: PG
Notes: Written for Challenge 206 - Family at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
anythingdrabble
Summary: Jon is finally reunited with his family, only to be parted from them again, this time for good.
Jon wanted to cry as he walked slowly towards the ship that would take him north. He hadn't cried properly for so long he couldn't remember the last time. Finally the fighting was done and here he was, having to say goodbye to the only family he'd ever known.
He wasn't sure what he'd expected to happen if the war was ever done. He simply couldn't picture it. Mostly perhaps because he'd never expected anyone to survive it, least of all himself. He'd already lost his father - the man who'd not been his father by blood, but was his father by the love he bore for Jon - his older brother Robb, whom he'd always been slightly envious of, and his youngest brother Rickon, who was the plaything of a sick man Jon had no hope of defeating. For Sansa, Bran and Arya to have survived was nothing short of a miracle, and to leave them now was nothing short of agony. They were not his true brothers and sisters - cousins in truth - but blood all the same and as much his family as anyone had ever been.
Bran's words ate at him. He'd spent years wishing he'd been there at Winterfell to protect Bran from those that wanted him dead. Having Bran tell him he'd been exactly where he needed to be twisted in his gut like an indigestible truth. Bran would never have become the Three-eyed Raven, and now King of the Six Kingdoms of Westeros. He would rule with dignity and fairness.
His sister Sansa, raped and tortured, would now be Queen of the North, and be the leader of her people that he himself had failed to be. As much as she'd rankled him with her childishly superior behaviour, she had grown into a clever, graceful woman. She was what their people deserved to keep them safe.
His little sister Arya, always underfoot and causing trouble, had forged a path all her own, becoming a brave fighter and now to become an even braver explorer. She at least he'd hoped he might see again, but it was not to be. He'd been the one to put that very first real sword in her hands and now she carried it as a talisman, always preserving the memory of happier days when both of them had been children, innocent in the ways of the world.
For his own efforts, having brought to an end the life of the woman he loved, who would have gone on to become a tyrant in place of those she'd defeated, he was sentenced to return to the Wall to serve out his days in cold lonely servitude. Once upon a time, his brothers on the wall had become his family, but it was a bitter pill to swallow to think of them that way again now that he had his real family close to hand. His was to sacrifice so that they could live in peace. Perhaps that had always been his duty.
Fandom: Game of Thrones
Characters/Pairings: Jon Snow
Author: m_findlow
Word Count: 500 words
Rating: PG
Notes: Written for Challenge 206 - Family at
anythingdrabbleSummary: Jon is finally reunited with his family, only to be parted from them again, this time for good.
Jon wanted to cry as he walked slowly towards the ship that would take him north. He hadn't cried properly for so long he couldn't remember the last time. Finally the fighting was done and here he was, having to say goodbye to the only family he'd ever known.
He wasn't sure what he'd expected to happen if the war was ever done. He simply couldn't picture it. Mostly perhaps because he'd never expected anyone to survive it, least of all himself. He'd already lost his father - the man who'd not been his father by blood, but was his father by the love he bore for Jon - his older brother Robb, whom he'd always been slightly envious of, and his youngest brother Rickon, who was the plaything of a sick man Jon had no hope of defeating. For Sansa, Bran and Arya to have survived was nothing short of a miracle, and to leave them now was nothing short of agony. They were not his true brothers and sisters - cousins in truth - but blood all the same and as much his family as anyone had ever been.
Bran's words ate at him. He'd spent years wishing he'd been there at Winterfell to protect Bran from those that wanted him dead. Having Bran tell him he'd been exactly where he needed to be twisted in his gut like an indigestible truth. Bran would never have become the Three-eyed Raven, and now King of the Six Kingdoms of Westeros. He would rule with dignity and fairness.
His sister Sansa, raped and tortured, would now be Queen of the North, and be the leader of her people that he himself had failed to be. As much as she'd rankled him with her childishly superior behaviour, she had grown into a clever, graceful woman. She was what their people deserved to keep them safe.
His little sister Arya, always underfoot and causing trouble, had forged a path all her own, becoming a brave fighter and now to become an even braver explorer. She at least he'd hoped he might see again, but it was not to be. He'd been the one to put that very first real sword in her hands and now she carried it as a talisman, always preserving the memory of happier days when both of them had been children, innocent in the ways of the world.
For his own efforts, having brought to an end the life of the woman he loved, who would have gone on to become a tyrant in place of those she'd defeated, he was sentenced to return to the Wall to serve out his days in cold lonely servitude. Once upon a time, his brothers on the wall had become his family, but it was a bitter pill to swallow to think of them that way again now that he had his real family close to hand. His was to sacrifice so that they could live in peace. Perhaps that had always been his duty.
