Chapter Text
“Alright. Let me get one thing straight. I don't do love."
Jon stared at the girl in front of him. She was a head shorter than him, yet her icy eyes and the frown marring her face easily made her more intimidating than a wolf.
Jon gulped, wondering why his throat was dry all of a sudden. "What -”
"You're here in a night club. Alone. Presumably, all your friends are either on the dance floor or already left with someone. You'll do the same." She looked him over boldly, blatantly checking him out. "You're attractive. I could work with that."
It was true. Grenn and Pyp already left with girls on their arms. Sam and Gilly were still on the dance floor. Jon had expected to take someone home too, but the girl in front of him, with her pale skin in sharp contrast with the darkness of the club, made him hesitate.
“You look young,” he said carefully.
Mercy quirked her eyebrows at him. They were very expressive. “Is that supposed to insult me?”
“No, no,” Jon backtracked quickly, “Just – never mind. Why did you say that you don’t do love?”
“Because I don’t do love,” she ran her eyes up and down his frame again, with the sort of slowness that was generally supposed to prove a point. It made him fidget slightly. “And you look like the romantic sort. But you do kind of look like me, and for some reason, I’m attracted to you. So, you’re going to take me home and we are going to have mind-blowing sex. Then I’ll leave in the morning, and we’ll never see each other again. Deal?”
Jon gaped at her. Mercy, she had introduced herself as Mercy. She was here with a bunch of friends but after they had seen her strike up a conversation with him, they had migrated to the dance floor with careless shrugs. Jon thought over her offer quickly. She was attractive and feisty. Just the kind of girls he liked. Ygritte , his mind whispered traitorously. He ruthlessly pushed that voice to the back of his mind. Their break up had not been on good terms, and even the whisper of her name brought a bad taste to his mouth. He looked at Mercy, with one of her feet tapping impatiently on the floor, and decided that this was just what he needed.
“Deal,” he tentatively offered her a grin, “Let’s get out of here.”
* * *
He woke up to the distinct feeling of the lack of a warm body beside him. He looked to his side and found it painfully empty. Getting up from the bed and quickly putting on the discarded boxers he had left on the floor last night, he padded down to his living room. There was no sign of Mercy there. Sighing in disappointment, he went back to his bedroom and pulled open his curtain, letting the crisp L.A morning light into his room.
He had hoped that she would stay in the morning, despite her words the previous night. They had fucked hard and fast, and then slow, and near the end, it was almost tender. She had laughed at the way he had kissed her forehead but had let him pepper her face with butterfly kisses anyway. He had almost believed that she would be by his side in the morning, that they would have breakfast together, and maybe, just maybe, he would ask her to have a drink with him later. He would have liked to tell her that he wanted to see her again. In one night, Mercy had begun to fill the hole in his heart that Ygritte left behind. But she had not even left him a note, let alone her phone number.
Never see each other again, indeed .
He sunk onto his soft mattress and exhaled heavily. Burying his face in the pillow, he breathed in the distinct smell of jasmine, the only sign that there was a girl called Mercy with him here last night and that he had not imagined her.
The memory of her laughter still warmed his heart, and he cursed himself for being so damn stupid .
She had me pegged right. I'm a romantic, after all.
* * *
"So, let me get this straight, you had a one night stand, and now you're in love with her."
Jon glared at his elder brother. He knew telling Aegon was a mistake. Mercy should have been kept a secret.
"I'm not in love with her," He protested half-heartedly, "I only knew her for one night. I haven't even seen her face in daylight, for God's sake!"
Aegon grinned at him gleefully from where he was sprawled lazily across his couch, as if this whole situation amused him endlessly. Knowing Aegon, it probably did.
"But you'd like to, wouldn't you?"
Jon shrugged but after seeing Aegon stare at him with his skeptic face, answered truthfully, "I went back to the club twice. It's been a week, but I haven't seen her since."
"You? Voluntarily going to a club without being dragged by Grenn and Pyp?" Aegon blinked before gaping at him, "That girl really did a number on you. What about Ygritte?"
Jon scowled at the mention of her name. "What about her?"
"Don't be an idiot. You're completely over her?"
"She's made her choice. She chose Tormund. I'm over her." Completely sure of the fact, he repeated, "Really, I'm over her."
"And into Mercy, apparently," Aegon sniggered, entirely too amused. Jon shot him another glare.
"Did you come here just to laugh at me?" He asked the older man petulantly.
Aegon snorted, "No, I came here because you live an hour drive away from home and Lyanna nags and Dad smirks. Why couldn't you just live in your campus dorms like a normal person? Lyanna worries that you are wasting away cooped up in your apartment."
"You listen to her too much," Jon said.
"You do too. Don't even try to deny it," Aegon countered easily.
They both fell silent for a minute before Jon broke it, hoping against hope that he would manage to change the topic of the conversation. "Have you decided what you're going to do yet?"
Aegon made a face. "I have a degree in Psych, Jon. You know damn well I'm going to be a therapist. You're my trial run."
When Jon glared at him again, he raised his hands in a mockery of a surrender, "Hey, just kidding. Besides, I'd like to see the world first before I settle into a career. Mom and Lyanna both agree."
"That's a rather good idea."
Jon's stomach churned in discomfort at the mention of Aegon's mother, as it always did. Logically, he knew that he had nothing to do with Elia and Rhaegar's divorce. They had fallen out of love, like many people did. They were separated long before Jon came to the picture, but Lyanna's pregnancy had driven the final nail to the metaphorical coffin. He knew that Elia had never blamed him, that she and Lyanna were on good terms even, but he had a feeling that he would always feel guilty. "Where is Rhae these days?" He asked, to shake himself out of that trail of thought. It never ended well when he went down that road. At least he got Aegon and Rhaenys out of that whole ordeal, he thought, even if he had never been as close to his half-sister as he was to Aegon. It must have been a product of all those times Aegon had stayed over at Rhaegar and Lyanna's when Elia had gone on business trips all around the world. Rhaenys had always chosen to stay at the Martells and Aegon had chosen the Targaryens. As it was, Aegon spent his time evenly between them and the Martells.
His younger brother grinned at the mention of his sister. "Gone to India to build a school."
"Hey, isn't that where Aunt Dany and Uncle Drogo are right now?"
"Yep," Aegon said, eyes glinting with pride, "You know how she is. Took a break from the family business to go help Aunt Dany."
Yes, he did know how she was. Nine years older than him, Rhaenys had always had a generous heart, despite the fact that she had never quite been able to forgive her father. Yes, Aunt Dany's humanitarian organization would suit her far better than Martells Inc. ever did.
"By the way,"Aegon's voice broke into his reverie, "You've got two weeks until summer break. Get ready to either tell Lyanna about your Mysterious Mercy or be prepared to have her play matchmaker with the neighbor girls."
Jon groaned out loud and flipped Aegon off when he started cackling, "Shut up, you tosser."
Aegon only laughed harder.
* * *
Before Jon knew it, the summer days were over. Leaves were falling and the cool autumn breeze ruffled his hair whenever he stepped outside to take a stroll.
The day before Jon went back to the university and his apartment, they all supped together.
As he was reaching for the bowl of mashed potatoes, Lyanna abruptly announced, "We're spending Christmas with the Starks."
Jon almost knocked over a glass of water in his surprise. It had been years since he last saw them. The Starks lived in Toronto, and their parents' hectic schedules, and not to mention his and Aegon's studies, had always somehow prevented them from making the trip up north.
“We are?” Aegon furrowed his brows, “What brought this on?”
“They’re family, and Christmas is for family,” Lyanna paused for a second before laughing. “Actually, Ned invited us. He called me and said, Damnit, Lya, it’s been 7 years. Get your ass over here, or I'll drag you here myself.”
Rhaegar chuckled too, “And Catelyn called me and said if we didn’t go, they would come and that would be a riot with all seven of them, and five of them are right hellions."
Lyanna took up again, “So, we said, yes, we’d come and now we’re going.”
“Okay,” Jon spoke up, “I’m sure we’ll have fun.”
His mother winked at him then, “Oh, I’m sure you will. Arya misses you, apparently.”
“Mother!”
(Jon remembered Arya, all scraped knees and tangled hair, running around with Bran and Rickon, wreaking havoc on the Winterfell Manor. They had been thick as thieves, Jon and Arya, when they lived up there. Moving to L.A at 14 had changed that. Jon wondered whether Arya really missed him. It had been seven years, after all.)
Snapping out of his thoughts, he found Aegon looking at him with a playful glint in his eyes, and Jon just knew he was going to do something awful. He glared at him, but Aegon only grinned broadly.
“Fear not, our Jon is in love!”
“No, I am not!” Jon said immediately.
But the damage had been done. Lyanna was now staring at him with a soft smile, her plate in front her forgotten, “My boy in love, isn’t that wonderful? Who is the girl, Jon?”
Rhaegar was looking at him too, openly curious, his plate clean before him. Jon’s appetite was gone.
Jon reluctantly answered, “Just…someone I met a while ago. And I’m not in love!”
“What’s her name?”
Aegon spoke up before he could, “Mercy, and get this, Mom, he met her at a club! Jon doesn’t even know her number or where she lives or anything !”
"Yes, yes, I think we've established that I know nothing," Jon muttered.
His mother did not look deterred, “Well, we will have to find her then, won’t we?”
“Er – Mother, we?” Jon stammered.
“Of course! My son is in love! And to think, I tried to set you up with Wylla!”
Jon winced at the reminder. The green haired girl had not been amused when he explained that he was not interested in her, no matter what his mother had said. His ribs still hurt from where she had punched him none too gently.
As the rest of the dinner continued, Lyanna kept probing him with questions of Mercy, and he kept deflecting them. What would he even say? Yes Mother, she was incredibly attractive, but she also kind of looked like me, and I keep hearing her laughter as she rode me until I could not even remember my own name, and it made me feel wonderful, and I would like to hear her laugh again, even if it is at something else?
Yeah, no, he would rather not, thank you very much.
He fled the kitchen as soon as they were done and cursed Aegon’s thrice damned devil hide back to the deepest part of hell.
* * *
On the twentieth of December, Jon looked up at the Winterfell Manor and breathed in. The woodsy scent of the pine cones and rain filled his lungs and he felt like coming home after a long time away.
He and Aegon helped his parents with the bags, and as Lyanna knocked on the door, he felt jittery with nerves. Would he even recognize his little cousins? Would they remember him? Seven years was a long time, after all.
Just as his mother made to knock a second time, the door opened and she was abruptly pulled inside. The men all shared a glance before stepping in and found Lyanna wrapped up in a fierce embrace with Ned and Catelyn.
They never change, Jon thought with amusement, before he was knocked over by a blur of red and white.
“Jon!”
Jon laughed as little Rickon, who was not so little now, enveloped him in a bear hug.
He looked over to see that Bran was hugging Aegon, and Sansa was greeting Rhaega. Robb grinned at him as he made his way towards the group. He looked around for Arya, but she was nowhere to be seen. Smoothing over the frown he felt creasing at his lips, he dutifully grinned down at Rickon.
“Hey there, little man.”
Rickon rolled his eyes good-naturedly before pointing out “I’m almost as tall as you.”
He was, and Jon felt a pang in his heart for missing out so much of his childhood. Rickon released him from the hug, and his other cousins crowded around him. Sansa looked as lovely as ever. Robb had a beard, and Bran towered over them all.
Sansa saw him looking around, and answered his unasked question, “Arya’s not here.”
Their parents had broken the group hug - when did Rhaegar get in there anyway ? - and Catelyn ushered them all to the living room, ordering her younger brood to take the bags upstairs to the guest rooms, which they did after a bit of playful grumbling.
As they all took a seat on the couches, Jon asked, “Arya’s not here?”
His Aunt smiled at him kindly, “Oh no, she is at her fencing master’s house.”
“But it’s the holidays! Surely she would get some time off?” Lyanna exclaimed, looking scandalized on behalf of her favourite niece.
Ned beamed and declared proudly, “Arya is Syrio Forel’s champion. They are training for another tournament!”
“She will be here in an hour or so. You guys should go up to your rooms and freshen up,” Catelyn suggested. Jon made to protest, he wanted to wait for Arya, but one look from Catelyn Stark shut him right up. That woman was scary . Kind, but scary.
As Jon followed his parents and Aegon up the stairs at a more sedately pace, he wondered whether Mercy had a family like his, before shaking his head at the thought.
Now is not the time to mope.
* * *
Jon freshened up rather quickly, and after neatly unpacking, he went to join Aegon in his room. On his way, though, he passed by Rickon’s room and heard two voices talking. One was Rickon, and the other was distinctly female. It was not Sansa, nor was it Catelyn or his mother.
It must be Arya , he thought. Still, he paused outside the door and decided to listen in to make sure, just in case.
“What was she like?” Rickon was saying.
The female voice laughed, the sound rang a bell somewhere at the back of his mind, but he brushed it off quickly.
“Oh, she was amazing! She does this thing with her tongue, and what a tongue it is! She uses it in the most wonderful ways!”
Jon blushed bright red outside the door. He imagined Rickon must be mortified, but then the sound of his booming laugh reached him, and God help him, now he was mortified.
“So, you are going to keep each other then, Arya?”
“Just for her tongue, if nothing else. I mean, we do have some amazing time, if you know what I mean. And Tyene is right wicked too. She agrees with the ‘no strings attached’ thing. She also says I can put my tongue to rather good use too! Like, one time – “
Now that he had confirmation that this was, in fact, Arya, he had no desire of knowing what exactly it was that she did with her tongue. He pushed the door open rather loudly, and strolled in, before freezing and gaping at the scene before him.
Splayed out carelessly in front of him on Rickon’s bed was Mercy, with Rickon’s head resting on her stomach. Both of them were looking at him, but all he could see was grey eyes, eyes like his own.
How did I not see it before?
“Mercy,” he breathed, and her name came out sounding like a fervent prayer.
Mercy, or rather, Arya looked shocked for a moment, but the expression was wiped away in a moment as she grinned up at him languidly from her position on her brother’s bed, “I can make you beg for mercy, if you would like.”
Jon continued gaping.
* * *
Fuck. Shit. Holy fucking shit .
“You’re Mercy!”
Mercy (Arya, he kept reminding himself, Arya ) sat up and frowned at him, “No, I’m Arya.”
“I slept with you! I mean, Mercy!” Jon burst out rather loudly.
“ He was the L.A one? The one with the pretty hair?” Rickon asked, looking rather horrified for a fraction of a moment, before amusement coloured his young face.
Arya squinted her eyes, as if it was hard for her to remember, and it made Jon want to shake her, and maybe kiss her (but surely he cannot want that, because now he knows that Mercy and his childhood best friend, not to mention his cousin, Arya, were the same person, and Goddamnit , that was so complicated), until she remembered.
“He is awfully pretty. Yes, I suppose I fucked him,” she concluded finally, and Jon turned red at her crude words.
“Mercy!”
“It’s Arya. A-R-Y-A,” she spelled out her name slowly, as if speaking to a child, before her face turned serious, “Sorry for sleeping with you, by the way. Actually, no, I am not sorry. But whatever, forget it ever happened. I already did.”
Jon flinched at her words, and Rickon noticed.
“Arya, you’re being a bitch now,” he said.
“Oh, am I?” she questioned, before answering it herself flippantly, “Yes, I suppose I am. Sorry, practice was awful. Syrio made me train until I passed out stone cold.”
Jon still felt like a thousand bees had stung him all at once, and Rickon, God bless him, spoke up once again, “I think you should go to your room now, Jon. You look a little faint. Maybe you should lie down for a bit or something.”
Jon nodded weakly, before shuffling out of the room hurriedly, and almost ran all the way to his room, Aegon all but forgotten from his mind.
As he flopped down on his bed, he cursed his thrice-damned rotten luck.
Out of all the girls in the word, my baby cousin had to be the one night stand I am completely infatuated with . God damn it, why was my cousin even my one night stand in the first place?
“Fuck my life,” he groaned out loud in the silence of his empty room.
* * *
The moment Jon stepped outside the room, Rickon elbowed her in the ribs, hard.
“ Ow !”
“Did you have to do that?” He hissed, “Did you have to be such a bitch to him? He’s Jon!”
Arya didn’t speak, and he continued, “You know, your best friend Jon? The same Jon who you swore was your soulmate?”
“The same Jon who moved to L.A and didn’t bother to keep in touch after a few weeks,” she scowled, “The same Jon who broke my heart. Yes, the very same Jon.”
“Yes, I remember,” Rickon sighed, “But still, you were harsh on him. Did you know it was him in L.A? He looks like you, and he didn’t lie about his name.”
“Not really, no,” Arya responded after a few moments, “Jon is a common enough name. Gods , I was so stupid!”
Her brother wrapped one arm around her waist in a hug. “Never stupid, no. What’s your plan, then? He looked like he remembered you well enough.”
Arya pondered that for a moment before finally coming to a conclusion, “I told him that he seemed like the romantic sort, and I don’t do love. If he didn’t heed my warning, it’s his problem.”
“What about you, Arya?” Rickon questioned softly, “You remembered him too.”
“What about me?” the dark-haired girl shrugged, “I have learned my lesson.”
“Yeah, I believe you have, sister. I believe you have.”
“Still, I suppose I should apologize to him. Maybe I was too harsh. Yes, I will apologize to him, for old time’s sake if nothing else. But he’d better not get any ideas. I am never going to give anyone the power to hurt me ever again. And the best way to not get your heart broken is to act like you don’t have one, after all.”
Rickon pressed a kiss to her crown, “God help me, sister, but I agree with you.”
* * *
Arya entered Jon’s room to find him sprawled on his back staring up at the ceiling. His face looked like he was in deep thinking, and gods , she wished she could go back in time to when they were just children, best friends and laughing together without a care in the world. She regretted that they had come to this now, strangers with familiar faces. He was her first heartbreak, and she would never forgive him for that. She would never let him know, of course. Jaqen’s words had been ingrained into her brain. Hide your emotions. They can be used to hurt you. Hide them, and wear a mask.
She coughed abruptly to let him know of her presence, and Jon jumped up from the bed, almost falling to the floor in the process.
“Arya!”
She was glad that he was not calling her Mercy anymore. That had been a mistake, fucking him. A voice in her head whispered, “ A mistake that you rather liked, ” but she shut that voice up quickly.
“Jon,” Arya said as she takes a seat on his bed, patting the spot next to her for him to do the same, which he did rather hesitantly. Arya couldn't blame him. “Rickon says I was too callous back there. I apologize.”
Jon started to protest, and she waved him off, “ I know I was being a bitch, but I’m doing this for you. You must understand that what happened in L.A was a mistake. We had just won the tournament, and I was drunk on victory, and you were lonely. It was a one night stand, and nothing more.”
Jon looked like someone had just killed his puppy, and she almost rolled her eyes, but refrained from doing so at the last minute.
He finally spoke after a few moments of silence, “How did you even get into the club? You’re eighteen! You shouldn’t even have one night stands!”
“Ah, the wonders of having a fake id,” she grins, “Which is something I assume you know of too. Don't tell me you waited until you were of age to go to a club. Even you aren't that lame. How did you get yours?”
Jon looked offended for a moment before he smiled, but it seemed rather forced. “My mom, if you would believe it. She said I needed to get out there and have more fun,” he paused before looking accusingly at her, “Where did you get yours? I can’t imagine Aunt Catelyn handing you a fake id.”
“Aunt Lyanna always did know the best,” she hesitated slightly before admitting the truth. “I have a friend. Jaqen. He had it made for me. You are not going to tell anyone, are you?”
Jon shook his head, and she added before he could say anything else, “And the whole Mercy thing, it is best that no one knows about that as well. It’s for the best if we forget that it ever happened.”
It looked as if Jon wanted to argue before he gave up and changed the subject abruptly. “Why don’t you do love? Back in the club, you said you don’t do love. Why?”
“Do you know what happened to Sansa and Joffrey?” she asked in response.
He shook his head perplexedly.
“It is not my story to tell, but just know that she loved that bastard, and he repaid her with cuts and bruises,” she never liked talking about Joffrey Baratheon. He had broken Sansa. Lovely, gentle, daydreaming Sansa. It was only recently that her sweet sister was beginning to piece herself back together. Arya had seen what love did to her, to people, she had felt it herself, and she loathed it.
She had seen where dreams of love led people, and it was a road she never wanted to go down. Few people only ever managed to reach the desired destination, like her parents, but most never did.
Love, love, love. What good is it for? Absolutely nothing. It only ever brings you pain and heartbreak.
“The reason I don’t do love, Jon, is because I have seen love die way too many times.”
Jon nodded, but she was not sure that he agreed with her. Arya pitied him.
I’ve learned my lesson the hard way. Jon will too.
She only regretted that she would have to be the one to teach him.
* * *
“What crawled up your arse and died?”
Jon looked up from the pillow he had been staring at for the last half an hour and promptly yelped. Aegon was right next to him and his face was directly above Jon’s.
“Aegon!”
His brother grinned at him, “You look like something crawled up your arse and died. That’s your thinking face. Are you thinking, brother?”
Jon pushed him away before sitting up, “Fuck off, Egg.”
Aegon swatted him on his head, “Whatever. Say, have you seen Arya yet?”
He choked on his own breath, “Why? Why would you ask that? Of course I haven’t seen her? Is she home already?
Aegon peered at him suspiciously before answering, “Well, you two used to be joined at the hips. Honestly, I’m handsome and much more likable than you, and she chose you as her best friend!”
“Is that jealousy I hear, brother?”
“Not jealousy, no. Just my utter incredulity in her sanity.”
“Careful, don’t let her hear that. She has access to very pointy things, you know?”
Aegon rolled his eyes, before hauling Jon up from the bed and shoving him in the general direction of the door, “Anyway, Aunt Catelyn is calling everyone downstairs for dinner. Let’s go before she gets mad. That woman scares me. I don’t want to risk her wrath.”
Like the mature person he is, Jon stuck out his tongue at the older man and made for the kitchen.
* * *
As they all took their seats at the dining table, Jon was dismayed to realize that he had been seated right beside Arya. Looking to his mother, he found her smiling at him mischievously.
“Arya, niece of mine! I hear you’ve been very busy?” Lyanna asked jovially as they all started piling up their plates.
Arya barely spared him a glance as she cheerfully grinned at her Aunt, “Master Forel means to make me the national champion. We’ve been training hard. He’s a hardass, he is.”
Ned's "Arya, language!" went ignored around the table.
From Arya’s other side, Rickon chirped up, “You love it, though. And you love that old man.”
Arya nodded, “That I do.”
“Anyway, Sansa, I hear you’ve got a girlfriend?” His mother turned to her red-headed niece, who smiled at her. Jon wondered how someone could ever give bruises to a girl as gentle as Sansa. He hated Joffrey Baratheon, he decided abruptly.
“Yes, her name is Margaery. Margaery Tyrell. She’s lovely.”
“I had a crush on her,” Arya whispered as if divulging a great secret, “Luckily for Sansa, I got over it. Or else, she’d be my girlfriend.”
Sansa rolled her eyes with practiced ease, “Ha! As if. She only has eyes for me.”
Arya placed her left hand upon her chest dramatically, the skin of her arm brushing Jon’s, “Alas, that is true.”
Jon’s breath hitched, and he longed to caress the skin of her hand like he had done months ago. He only let out his breath when her arm returned to her lap, neatly folded. He felt someone’s eyes on him and looked around to find Aegon staring at him, his brows furrowed.
Jon avoided his gaze and stared glumly down at his almost empty plate. He looked up when he felt a nudge at his side. Arya was staring at him with a raised eyebrow, as was everyone else.
“I’m sorry, what?” He hastily asked.
“I asked how your studies are going,” Ned Stark stared at him concernedly from across the table, “Are you alright, son?”
“I’m fine, Uncle,” Jon smiled at him half-heartedly, “My studies are going well. Only one more year, and then I can go to law school.”
“Good, good,” his Uncle said genially, “Robb here is studying law, too.”
“You are?” Jon turned to his cousin, surprised.
He heard Arya snort and mutter something to Rickon, no doubt unflattering to his character, but grinding his teeth together, he ignored them.
“Yeah, University of Toronto,” Robb grinned at him, “Met my girlfriend there too.”
He heard Arya mutter something to Rickon again. Robb glared at them for a moment before settling his eyes on Jon again, “Her name is Jeyne. She’s a med student.”
“Oh, Robb, that’s lovely!” Lyanna Stark cooed, but Jon’s eyes were fixed on Arya, who had a pinched expression her face. Her eyes met his, and her face was schooled into a blank expression so quickly that Jon wondered if he’d imagined the whole thing.
He wondered why he barely remembered Ygritte at all. He wondered why still remembered Arya’s carefree laugh the night she was Mercy. And he wondered why he longed to hear it again, this time spilling from Arya’s lips, not Mercy’s. He wondered a lot of things these days.
* * *
As the Starks and the Targaryens all filed into the living room and threw themselves in various positions, some gracefully and some not so gracefully, Jon found himself seated beside Arya once again. The couch was small, and when Aegon flung himself on Arya’s other side, she was nestled right against Jon. If she was uncomfortable, she did not show it.
“So, my dear Arya,” Aegon began cheekily, “Have you got a significant other we should know about?”
Arya scrunched up her nose at the term of endearment, and poked Aegon in the ribs with one sharp pointed nail before answering his question with a sigh, “No significant other for me, no.”
Rickon chimed in from his place at the foot of the couch, his back snuggled against Arya’s legs, “What is it that you say, Arry? Ah, your heart belongs to no one but yourself.”
Arya reached down to ruffle her little brother’s hair, “You’re damn right.”
“What about you, Jon?” Sansa queried quietly, cuddled against Robb and Bran in the other couch.
Jon startled at the question, and stammered, “I – uh – no girlfriend for me.”
Aegon, the little shit that he is, sent a conspirational wink his way before leaning forward and whispering, “Don’t listen to him. He is in love.”
Sansa gasped, smelling gossip like a shark smells blood in the water. Resting her head on top of Bran’s who was leaning against her legs on the floor, she said, “Ooh, who is it?”
Jon glared at Aegon, desperately wishing for him to shut up, but God was not merciful, and the perpetual pain in his ass cheerfully declared, “A girl he met at a club! He knew her for one night, and this idiot went and fell in love with her!”
Jon felt Arya stiffening beside him and resisted the urge to hide his blushing face. He surreptitiously took around him and was relieved to find their parents busy talking amongst themselves on the other side of the room. At least he would not have to lie straight to his Uncle and Aunt’s faces about their precious daughter.
“Don’t listen to Aegon. I’m not in love with her,” Jon told them firmly.
“You wanted to ask her out in the morning,” Aegon pointed out with unholy mirth. He could feel Arya stiffening further, if such a thing was possible. Her fingers curled against Rickon’s nape, and the youngest Stark stood up abruptly.
“Oh, would you look at the time? It’s late. We should go to sleep now.”
Robb furrowed his eyebrows, “But it’s only – “
Rickon turned to look at Jon and Aegon. “You guys must be tired. Aren’t you, Jon?” he asked pointedly.
Jon jumped up from his seat, sending Arya tumbling against Aegon, who winced as Arya’s pointy elbows dug into his ribs.
“Yes, yes. I’m very tired. And I have a terrible headache. I think we should all go to bed now,” he faltered looking at the curious expression on Bran’s face, who had been quiet so far.
“Yeah, I am tired too,” Arya spoke up. She was upright again, lips curling into an exhausted smile, “Master Forel made me train until I passed out.”
Sansa winced in sympathy, and Bran turned his curious eyes to Arya. Arya, in turn, merely stared at him, as if daring him to defy. After what seemed like an eternity, Bran nodded, and finally spoke, “Yeah, I’m kind of tired too.”
The younger generation bid their goodnights to their parents and made their ways to their respective rooms. Rickon and Arya’s rooms were apparently the closest to Jon’s so they were the last ones left with him. Jon wanted to say something to Arya, anything to make her look at him the way she did when she was Mercy. But when Jon saw Rickon and Arya with their heads together, whispering to each other fiercely, he hastily escaped into his room with a mumbled goodnight. Once inside, he collapsed on the bed bonelessly.
It hadn’t even been one day, and his infatuation with Mercy, who was truly his little cousin Arya, had not diminished even in the slightest. In fact, it had intensified to an extent that was almost painful.
He wondered if he really was in love.
* * *
So used to the L.A heat, Jon was startled to see the blanket of snow covering the ground when he glanced out this window the next morning. After a moment, though, the previous day’s memories came rushing back to him and he promptly cringed at the situation he had gotten himself in. Had Ygritte really messed his head up so much that he had gone and fallen for his own cousin? Then again, he had not known it was his cousin when he fell for her.
No wonder Aegon was fascinated by all this. Jon was every psychologist's wet dream come true.
He was startled out of his musings as a knock on the door reverberated throughout the room. He hurriedly crossed the room and yanked the door open, coming face to face with the object of his musings herself. With her hand was still raised as if to knock, Arya seemed startled to have the door opened so quick. She lowered her hand and unashamedly looked him up and down, and Jon belatedly remembered that he was still only in his pajama pants. He rubbed his neck in embarrassment and Arya smirked at him, with an amused glint in her eyes.
“Mom is making breakfast. Come down quick or you won’t get any pancakes,” she told him before making a beeline for the stairs. Jon stared at her back, wondering just when his life had become so goddamn complicated.
* * *
By the time Jon made it downstairs, there was a stack of pancakes waiting for him on the table that Aegon and Rickon were eyeing hungrily. He hastily snagged the plate and shoved a pancake down his mouth, ignoring the disappointed stares coming from both his brother and cousin.
“Here,” Arya’s voice made him look up, but she was leaning against the table, her back to him, and she was piling more pancakes on Rickon’s plate, “Have mine.”
Rickon looked up at her as if she had just handed him the world rather than a mere stack of pancakes, and Jon felt an ache somewhere inside his chest. Arya used to look at him like that when they were younger, back when they were best friends and laughing at the world around them. Aegon’s voice brought him back to the present.
“Why does he get your pancakes and I don’t?” Jon’s older brother whined, and he saw Arya’s shoulder shaking, a sure sign that she was laughing, even if no sound came out.
“Because Rickon is my brother and I like him more than I like you,” Arya said evenly, and Rickon’s lips quirked up into a smile.
“Anyway,” she whirled around suddenly, facing Jon, and winked at him mischievously, “You can have Jon’s pancakes if you’d like. He’s your brother.”
Jon hurriedly snatched his plate out of reach from Aegon’s greedy hands, and glared at him, daring him to even try. He already had a headache from the clusterfuck of a situation with Arya and his rebellious heart, and it was still only morning.
Snapping himself out of his headache-inducing thoughts, he craned his neck to look for his parents but found them nowhere. In fact, Arya, Rickon, and Aegon were the only other occupants of the kitchen.
“Where is everyone?” He asked.
Aegon and Rickon were still gulping down pancakes so it was Arya who answered him. “Dad and Uncle went grocery shopping, and I believe Mum and Aunt Lyanna are going over our prom pictures.”
“Robb, Bran and Sansa?” He asked, gulping down a glass of water and wiping his mouth with his napkin.
“Bran’s reading a book and Sansa is on the phone with Marge, as usual,” she rolled his eyes before making a face, “And I believe Robb is skype-ing with his girlfriend.”
This time, Jon latched on to the topic, “You don’t like Robb’s girlfriend?”
On the other side of the table, Rickon started choking on his pancakes, and Aegon dutifully thumped him on his back until he gained control of himself again.
“No, of course not,” Arya said, her lips tugging downwards into a frown, “Jeyne is wonderful . Innocent Jeyne, perfect Jeyne. It’s not her I have a problem with.”
“Then who? Robb?” Jon asked, even though he knew he was pushing it. Arya was not his best friend anymore; he had lost that privilege long ago. And the whole mess with Mercy had already made everything worse. Still, he couldn’t help but want to be a part of the family – or the Pack, as Arya used to call it – again.
“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” Arya said tersely, “You should finish your pancakes, or I believe Aegon will do it for you.”
Aegon’s hand froze midair beside him, a completely unashamed look upon his face.
Sighing and batting away his brother’s grabby hand, Jon got back to the task of finishing his breakfast.
* * *
Just as Arya had predicted, Jon found his mother and Aunt Catelyn looking over photo albums and sharing horror stories of raising kids in Aunt Catelyn’s room. He decided to leave them there before he got trapped. Turning around, he made a beeline for his own room, but two pairs of arms caught him mid-way through. Both his mother and his aunt grinned at him manically as they dragged him inside the room and dumped him on the bed before taking their seats in front of him. Jon eyed them warily.
“So,” his mother smirked, “I noticed you staring at Arya last night.”
Jon choked on air, bemoaning his luck.
“Rather like a lovesick boy, I might say,” Aunt Catelyn added.
“I think I hear someone calling me,” Jon hastily said, moving to get up, “I’d better see what they want.”
Both women pushed him down instantly, shaking their heads at him.
“You’ll do no such thing, young man,” his mother tutted.
Jon reluctantly nodded his head, deciding to brave himself in the face of their united front.
“Now,” Aunt Catelyn said, “I know that daughter of mine will never say this, so I must do this for her.”
He glanced between the two women before nodding again.
Aunt Catelyn sighed, “Jon, she was heartbroken when you moved.” Seeing that he was about to speak up, she shook her head at him before continuing, “Now, that wasn’t your fault, but it is the truth. With that said, I think you have a bit of a crush on her, and I just want you to know that you have my blessing.”
Jon gaped at her, struck speechless at her words.
“And you have my blessing, too, if you’re still not too hung up on Mercy,” Lyanna added.
Jon briefly entertained the idea of divulging the fact that Arya and Mercy were the same damn person and that he was hung up on both, before he dismissed the thought altogether. That would not endear him to Arya at all.
“Look,” he said to the women, “I know you mean well, but Arya and I are not exactly the best of friends right now.”
“Of course we know that!” His mother said, “But we have faith in you.”
“All right,” Jon sighed. He got up and moved toward the door, “Thank you, then.”
This time, no one stopped him.
* * *
They spent the morning watching cheesy rom-coms in the living room, cocooned underneath their blankets. Arya and Rickon immediately cuddled up leaning against the foot of the couch, and Jon hesitantly wrapped a blanket around him and made himself comfortable on the couch after glancing at the top of Arya’s head. Aegon took his place beside him, and Sansa sat on the other couch wrapped in her blanket with her slender fingers wrapped around her cellphone.
“Can’t go ten minutes without talking to Marg, that one,” Bran whispered from where he was leaning against her legs. Sansa swatted at his head in response, muttering a “shut up”, eyes still glued on the brightly lit screen of her phone.
“Where’s Robb? I thought he’d be done with skype-ing by now.”
“He’s on the phone with Theon,” Arya snorted from her place, “You won’t see him for another hour.”
Ah, Theon Greyjoy. Jon remembered him. All lanky and sarcastic and full of bite, he had been Robb’s best friend.
“Still friends with Greyjoy? Wow, who would have thought,” he muttered before he could think better of it.
“Literally everyone,” Arya smirked at him, “They’re heterosexual life partners, haven’t you heard?”
¨Well, I had my hopes,” he grinned, but Arya only rolled her eyes at him before announcing the beginning of the movie and promptly focused all her attention on the TV. Jon stared at the back of her head for a moment before sighing and then he, too, turned towards the flat screen.
“What are we watching anyway?”
“The Notebook,” Sansa answered, her phone finally tucked neatly between her palms. The screen of the device was flashing every two seconds but Sansa dutifully ignored it in favour of the film.
“You know, I’ve never watched that one,” Jon said.
Bran snorted. “I’ve lost count of how many times we have. The girls watch it every Christmas, and we get dragged along for the ride.”
“It’s practically tradition at this point,” Rickon admitted with a shrug..
“And who are we to break tradition?” Arya said sarcastically without looking away from the TV screen.
“Never took you as one to be a fan of rom-coms, Arya,” Aegon needled, smirking. Jon wanted to wring his neck.
Arya turned around to grin at him. “What can I say? I’m full of mysteries,” she said dryly.
“Now, everyone - ” Sansa began, and waited until everyone was looking at her before speaking again, “Shut up. The movie is starting.”
Everyone promptly turned back towards the television to watch the epic love story of Allie and Noah unfold, some with more gusto than others.
And, well, if Jon glanced at Arya every once in a while out of the corner of his eyes, it was nobody’s business but his own.