Real quick can we talk about Jon just... staring? like, his eyes are always on you. and, fuck, I mean, you can't complain
YES WE CAN. especially postres!jon omg….
it’s a piece of the protective nature that was always part of jon, but since he was betrayed by those he trusted, it’s been horribly amplified. he just can’t help but stare.
whenever you walk into a room, his eyes are the first to find you. and whenever he walks into a room, you’re the first person he looks for. you both could be anywhere with anyone and his gaze is tracking you. watching who surrounds you, how touchy they are, looking for any trace of discomfort that crosses your features, even if only for a moment.
maybe it has to do with the faint twinge of annoyance in the back of his mind whenever you’re not near. that uncomfortable buzz of his nerves knowing if something happened — if the sky began falling — you’re too far away for him to reach.
his rationality fights to speak sense to him, to tell him the odds of such things are so slim they’re laughable, but a voice like that has much of a harder time being heard when you’re involved.
jon never thought anything of the sort would happen to him, especially by the hands of people he swore oaths with; by a boy the age of bran. it never crossed his mind, why would it cross yours? the sky’s been stable since the first men, but what if?
he’s very silent about all this, of course. tormunds too deep in his ale & goats milk to notice how jon isn’t listening to his newest story of giant-fucking. if everyone else weren’t so fascinated by his narration of tits the size of the moon, perhaps they’d see their kings gaze hasn’t left their queen since the wildling began — has followed you, tracking your movements with eyes darkening every time someone gets too close.