Jonmund, diary!!!!
thank you for the prompt, i hope you like it :D <3
-x-
“What’s that you’re writing?”
Jon pauses in his scrawling to see Tormund standing over him, squinting curiously at the paper in his hands. “Nothing,” he answers vaguely, shifting aside on the log to make space for Tormund. “Just... the things I saw today. I’m writing them down so I don’t forget. Sort of like a diary.”
Tormund stretches his legs out, closer to the fire, and takes a swig from his ever-present wineskin. “Can I see?” he asks a moment later, wiping his mouth with his furs.
In response, Jon moves his hand so that the paper is more visible to Tormund. It’s nothing much, just crude drawings of the plants Tormund pointed out to him earlier, and short descriptions of each one, but Tormund nods approvingly when he sees it. “Not a bad way to remember,” he says. “Is that what you do in the South? Write down this stuff?”
“Depends,” Jon answers. “On what’s considered important enough to remember. Robb and I used to write down whatever our maester taught us, so we could have it handy if we ever forgot something. And Sam writes down just about everything, you must’ve seen him do it.”
“He’s a maester too, eh?” Tormund asks.
Jon nods. “He’s with Bran now, in King’s Landing. I thought I could, maybe...” He trails off.
“Maybe what?” Tormund prods, when a few seconds pass and Jon hasn’t continued.
“Maybe find a way to send these to him,” Jon finishes, and then gives Tormund a small, sad smile. “But I think we’re too far North for that now. No raven is going to be able to go all the way to King’s Landing, it’s just too far. But he’d have liked to see these.”
Tormund makes a thoughtful sound at that. Jon waits for him to say something, but Tormund remains quiet, just staring into the fire with that contemplative look on his face.
Eventually, Jon gives in. “What?” he asks, nudging Tormund with his elbow.
“What?” Tormund repeats absently, not looking away from the fire.
Jon nudges him again, harder this time, and that gets his attention. “You’re thinking of something,” Jon says. “Aren’t you?”
“Aye,” Tormund admits after a moment. “Not sure if it’s possible, so I don’t want to get your hopes up, little crow.”
“What is it?” Jon asks.
“The weather will be clearer in a few weeks,” Tormund tells him. “It’ll be safer to travel then. I thought perhaps we could go South.”
“South?” Jon repeats, blinking in surprise. “What, just to send a raven?”
Tormund shakes his head. “No, not just to send a raven.”
“Then?” asks Jon.
Tormund shrugs, leaning closer into Jon’s side. Jon leans right back in, soaks up the warmth, and waits patiently for Tormund to answer.
“It’s been a long time since you’ve seen your sister,” Tormund finally says. “Perhaps we could go visit.”
For a moment Jon is too stunned to do more than utter a lackluster “Oh.” Then he shakes his head a little, as if trying to clear it, and then asks, “You want to take me to see Sansa?”
“If you want to go,” Tormund says.
“Of course I want to go,” Jon says at once. “Of course-- it’s been so long, and--” He stops, collects himself for a moment. “And I’d love to have you with me.”
“Down in the South, with your smelly air and shit weather?” Tormund asks teasingly, though there’s an element of uncertainty to his tone that Jon doesn’t fail to catch.
“You were fine the last time,” he answers, and then adds, “Besides, it’s not as if we’d be staying. Just a few days, right?”
Tormund’s expression clears, and that’s how Jon knows he’s gotten to the heart of the matter; Tormund’s insecurity that Jon might decide that the North is not for him after all. “Aye,” is all he says.
“You know I’m not going to go back to stay,” Jon says quietly, resting his head on Tormund’s shoulder. “South of the Wall, I mean. This is my home now, Tormund. You said it yourself, it’s where I belong. I don’t want to leave.”
Instead of replying, Tormund lets out a pleased sort of harrumph, and then leans his head on top of Jon’s. “I know, little crow,” he says.
“Don’t forget that,” Jon tells him.
“Might need to be reminded every now and then,” Tormund admits, voice low.
”Write it down, you’ll remember better,” Jon says, grinning
Tormund snorts. “And what, send that one to Sam too, eh?”
“Gods, no,” laughs Jon. “That one’s just for the two of us.”
“Just the two of us,” repeats Tormund. “I could live with that.” Then he gently extricates himself from Jon’s side and gets to his feet, stretching out his hand. “Come on, now, fire’s gone out and it’s getting colder. Let’s go back inside.”
Jon takes his hand. “Sounds perfect to me.”
-x-
send me a prompt
