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When Jon was young, the idea of power beyond men's wildest imagination called Gods, only ever brought a frown and an unfathomable throb to his heart. Jon remembers that in rare times he found himself skirting by the heart three, he would take time to stand and study every inch of it. The white as bone bark, those dark red leaves, and of course the face. That face with its red tears of dried sap that now and then fall from the deep-cut eyes. He would stare at those eyes and silently ask, why? People say Gods are the fairest, so answer him, why was he born to this life? Why was he born at all?
Back then, Jon believed in them just a little. Partially because to have faith in Gods is a lesson he was taught, and he doesn't care enough to object to it; mostly because he knows when he watches those eyes, they watch him back. They never answered his questions, though, so their relationship never gets any closer than that. Merely rivals in a staring contest.
Nowadays, he still believes in them, but for entirely different reasons. And more than he ever thought he could. But how could he not be after... everything? He had gone from one fight to another fight to another fight to another, never stopping, with no idea when it would all end. He had killed countless and seen people die even more. He had lost some people he loved, disappointed others, or both. He had fought and won and lost. And yet, here he is. He's here, sitting under the bright sky and breathing in the fresh, ripe air of early spring; his tongue can still taste the sweetness of the pies that filled his belly. Ghost is roaming around freely, chasing and barking at little birds that fly above. And the man that he loves so much is now braiding dandelions to his hair, and Jon... Jon feels happy. Jon never thought he could feel this happy.
"There you go, little crow," finally, his husband says. "Now, why won't you spin around and let me have a look?"
Jon turns, and as his gazes catch the sight of Tormund, warmth crawls up inside of him.
"Hello, love," he greets.
Oddly, Tormund doesn't reply with a soft grumble of the word husband, which has been his way of greeting Jon ever since they married four months ago. Instead, he just stares at Jon intensely in a manner that Jon knows is reserved when he's stunned about something. "Why are you staring at me like that, Tormund?" he asks in a light, teasing voice.
Tormund's eyes, blue like the sky above them, squinted when he let out a chuckle. His big hands move to cup Jon's face and pull it softly so their foreheads can touch. And as if in command, they closed their eyes in sync."You are so fuckin' pretty, do you know that Jon Snow? So fuckin' pretty, the prettiest," he says at last. "Gods knows what I did to deserve you."
Now it's Jon's turn to chuckle. "Oh, no, Giantsbane, no," he says. "Gods knows what I did to deserve you."
The older man disagrees in a heartbeat. "Nah, they know nothing when it comes to what you deserve, little crow, 'cause if they do, they would give you the world and everything good in it."
"But, Tor," Jon starts, covers the older man's hands with his own, and slowly drags his head back. Their eyes are both already back open when he says, "they did, my love."
Because that's what Tormund is for Jon, the world, and everything good in it.
Jon would remember this later as one of the rare moments where he manages to make Tormund adorably wrong-footed. The redhead once again just gazes at Jon, eyes even more dazed, before pushing Jon to lie on the mat and in an instant kissing him like a man breathing the air after getting choked. Even with how passionate Tormund's kiss is, Jon can't help but slip out a laugh.
And as Jon lay there, with his husband's big bulky body feels like a warm blanket on top of him, being kissed so freely in the open because they are in the north, the real north, and here there are no enemies or political intrigues or rules; Jon thinks that he does believe in the Gods. Because how could he not, when he's here, being with Tormund, and he finds he doesn't want to change a single thing about his life. He's here, and he understands why he was born at all.