Jon had to step back and to the side in order for all of the wildlings to file out. Ygritte’s words caused his stomach to twist up in knots, though. And that was a feeling that Jon had hoped to never associate with Ygritte or anything she ever said or did. But of course, when tangling with an especially feisty red-headed wildling, one couldn’t expect things to be good or anything relative to that forever. The past few nights, when not with his woman, Jon spent his time scolding himself and taking his copious anger out on any unfortunate soul that happened to cross his path. Which, really, Jon knew better than to hurt any of the wildlings, so most of the unfortunate souls he’d wailed on had been rocks or walls or personal belongings that were now shattered.
If Jon had just stuck to his oath, Ygritte would have been okay.
So when he approached her, he sported many scattered black and blue bruises of his own fault on his knuckles and even arms. "You’re not dyin’ on me, Ygritte. I won’t let you." Those words were spoken in such desperate hope, that Jon made himself actually believe them. Maybe there was something — something else — there had to be something that could save her.
Slowly, so very slowly and gently, Jon knelt down on both of his knees beside Ygritte’s bed. How his woman could be stronger than he in those moments, Jon Snow would never understand. He carefully leaned his forehead against her shoulder, and kept holding on to her callused but still somehow fragile hand in his own like it was life support.
"I’ll get you a pretty silk dress."
And oh, Jon would. His love for Ygritte had started out as a spark, and that spark now engulfed his entire being in pure hot flame. He would not see his woman die in such a poor, desolate place such as this.
"Come away with me, Ygritte. Let me take you somewhere beautiful."
Ygritte's smile only grew upon hearing Jon's words, and he even managed to get a faint laugh out of her. He had always been a bit naive, but yet it was part of what made him so endearing. Even when things were looking so utterly hopeless, and attempt after attempt had been completely shot to the Seven Hells, Jon Snow still managed to convince himself that the wildling wasn't going to die. She brought up her free hand to gently bury her fingers in her man's dark locks, his forehead rested against her shoulder. "You know nothin', Jon Snow," she whispered in his ear, that same line she'd said to him countless times before. The redhead had tried relentlessly to fight off the poison, but it seemed the most she was able to do was just lessen it for a short amount of time before it would flare right back up.
"Will ya?" She replied. "A pretty silk dress won' be complete without a castle." Obviously only a joke, for she didn't truly expect Jon to promise her a castle. It wasn't fitting, after all. Besides, she dreamed of going back to that cave more than she did living out her life with him in a castle. Nonetheless, it still would have been nice to at least seen one before death came to take her. The way he described it was absolutely astonishing, and she'd thought the windmill was big. Apparently, it was tiny in comparison.
At his suggestion, Ygritte arched a brow, curious as to what location he had in mind. "Don' do anythin' stupid." In other words, yes, she would agree to go with him with the little strength she had left, but even in a state as weak as this, she wouldn't allow him to do anything that would risk getting himself killed.