This is a drabble. Feel free to make a request or two.
"Go on!" Tormund shouted and threw the large stick as far as it would go.
"That's demeaning." I muttered as a large white form rushed after it.
"You know he likes it, Jon."
I sighed as there was no disagreeing with that fact. Instead of talking with my friend and sometimes lover, I looked around the landscape. Even in the heat of summer, the lands beyond the Wall still had a light covering of snow over them. Just like the snow, there was always a chill in the air that was unlike any other place in Westeros.
If I had wanted to, I could've gone to Winterfell and reclaimed my title of King of the North. The deal with Grey Worm had only existed until he, the Unsullied, and the Dothraki had gone back to Essos. Or maybe Grey Worm had gone to Naath as that's where Missandei had originally come from. Freeing the slaves was one of the things Daenerys had gotten right.
"See, Khal enjoys it." Tormund said as the large white direwolf dropped the stick in front of me.
I looked deep into the being's eyes and saw an intelligence that I wished to know better. But a lack of communication would always keep us apart. Would always stop feelings before they intensified like I desperately wanted them to. As Khal's tail continued to wag I relented and threw the stick so that the direwolf could chase after it once again.
While I had first thought I had loved Daenerys, that hadn't been the case. She had merely been a pleasant distraction from the world. She had been a distraction from all the hard decisions and so I had mistaken my feelings for love. What we had started to foster was a friendship that had crumbled before it could truly start to form.
I didn't love her, but I also hadn't wanted to kill her. Never in my wildest dreams had I thought she would give me an impossible choice: allow her to burn down Westeros and murder my family or continue to be by her side. I had constantly rethought my decision ever since stabbing Daenerys through the heart and so I had turned away from ruling the North and gone with the Wildlings. Instead of starting to build an independent North I had decided on uniting the Wildlings under one banner instead of many.
But I still had taken a piece of Westeros with me. Khal brought the stick back to Tormund and waited for the Wildling to throw it. The Wildling did and the direwolf raced after the stick once again. The sight made me feel an ache deep in my heart.
During the Battle of Winterfell Jorah Mormont's spirit had died and found its way to Ghost's body. We had been unable to convince Daenerys of this fact and so I left him with Tormund upon going South. A part of my mind knew there was something about the Targaryen that could turn deadly and I didn't want to allow Jorah a sight that would haunt him until eternity.
Once I rejoined him, our emotions for each other had slowly deepened. He was the only one that could understand my pain and both of us had started to let each other heal. Even without the ability to speak the last Mormont could communicate in his own odd way.
But eventually the toll of inhabiting Ghost's body had begun to reshape Jorah's mind. Since he became not truly Jorah or Ghost, a new name had to be chosen for him. Because he should have been king I had decided on the name of Khal.
Besides honoring him, it was my way of connecting him to Daenerys even though the woman was long dead. Their love story had been cut short as had their reign that would've brought peace for generations to come.
If only. If only.
Once Khal dropped the stick in front of me again I could tell he was trying to distract us from our thoughts.
"Fine." I replied and threw the stick, trying my best to find comfort in the game.
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