Jon managed to get himself to raise his head in order to cast his gaze properly upon Ygritte, her face beautiful ā even if it had so blatantly been recently distorted with pain. It hurt him beyond belief to see the marks of discomfort written all across her ā all across the room, really, from the rumpled bed to the strewn cups of medicine that had failed to work, as so many said it would. āI know a few things, Ygritte,ā the bastard eventually answered, reaching up to brush a stray few pieces of red hair from her forehead.
āMaybe not many things; but certainly a few.ā
The bastardās intention was not exactly to take the wildling back to the cave, for it was too far for even Jonās false hope to let him believe. Anywhere outside of this tent was really risking it for what it was worth, but even so, Jon stayed by his decision that he would not let his woman die here in a tent meant for the sick and hopeless.Ā So without waiting any longer, Jon slid both of his arms under Ygritte and lifted her up easily, nudging her head to rest against his chest once he got a good hold on her.
After that, he made quick work of exiting the tent, casting brutish glares to anyone that dare step in his path to deny him what time he had left with his woman. Every so often he would glance down at her, though, and spare her a warm little smile. āWhat color do you want your silk dress to be, my lady?ā Jon inquired, almost desperate to keep the conversation going any way he could with her ā for it was certain that heād remember every last word with Ygritte until the day he too perished. "I donāt do anythinā stupid, Ygritte. Youāre the one thatās always got yourself in trouble," the bastard teased, though he had to stop talking for a moment in order to mount his horse, with Ygritte sat in front of him, in-between both of his arms. He gave a small kiss to her back before setting the horse at a galloping pace in the direction of the North, his destination being a certain cliff he remembered from long ago, that overlooked a castle. Dawn was on itās way soon, he was sure, and Jon ā he hoped this would be beautiful enough for his lady. He hoped.
Ygritte could only give a frail smile in response to Jon's words, too exhausted to muster up a laugh that wouldn't end up sounding more like a groan of pain. Perhaps it was true. In fact, itĀ was true. The bastard did know some things, but yet that wouldn't stop the wildling from repeating the phrase to him time and time again when the situation called for it.
She soon found herself lifted from the bed, being held in strong arms. The redhead made no movement against it, leaning her head against his chest and allowing her eyes to fall shut; just for a moment. She didn't plan on allowing herself to part with life just yet, and to drift into slumber could easily prove to be permanent. Thus, the wildling would stay awake for every second she could manage, and in that time she would be with the one that truly mattered. The one who had always mattered, and the one she wanted spend her final moments with.
Indeed, there were a few looks of protest as Jon carried Ygritte from the tent that screamed death, but it was made clear by the both of them that this was a mutual thing, and to try to stop them would prove to be an unwise decision. It wasn't abandonment, after all; despite the fact that only one would be returning. As she forced her eyes open, she caught Jon Snow giving her a faint but existent warm smile. He had those puppy-dog eyes, which could be heart-warming and alluring and pitiful all at once.
"What does it matter?" She arched a brow, her gaze cast upward to look at Jon. "Y'mentioned wantin'--" the wildling woman paused for a moment, a look of pain crossing her features, brows drawing together, "t'tear it off me anyway." Ygritte grinned then, still remembering the conversation with him as if it were yesterday. "Standin' by what I said, too." And by that, she meant blackening his eye if he dare to rip her silk dress.
After being placed on the horse, in front of Jon, she leaned back against him. "E'ryone says opposites attract," she began to say, only finding some truth to the statement, "but you an' I, we both spell trouble." Yes, Ygritte could be a mischievous little devil, but Jon Snow was no angel either. In some ways, they were like night and day; complete opposites, but there was that mutual attraction that had them falling head over heels for one another. She squinted her eyes slightly against the wind, which was due to the pace the horse was galloping. She had only spent a few days inside the tent, but it felt nice to feel the cold fresh air she'd long since grown accustomed to.
