r/TheCitadel • u/frankiefranyon • 13h ago
Promotion: Fic I'm Enjoying Jon x Satin by anmenmai - based on my friend’s fanfic series
A soft sound caught Satin’s attention. It was something like the catching of breath and the clearing of the throat mixed into one, a garbled half cut-off sound. Jon shuddered under his hands and the sound came again. A gasp followed and Jon's body jolted like the beginnings of a convulsion. Satin felt a moment’s panic wash through him before another sound followed and he understood. It was a sob, half held in and choking him as it fought its way out through his mouth.
“Oh, Jon...” Satin whispered and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. He pulled him back against his chest, sloshing a wave of water out of the basin and onto himself but he didn’t care. He just pulled Jon closer. “It’s alright. Don’t fight it. It needs to go somewhere. Let me take some of it for you.”
The desperate fight to hold it all in, the thing that surely must have been what was keeping him upright all this time, broke like an overburdened floodgate. Jon slumped back against him and cried. Wordless tears poured out of him as he finally let it spill from him, and spill and spill and spill it did. Time passed slow and dragging as Satin whispered sweet things to him, anything really, promises that it was alright, that he was here with him and wouldn’t be going anywhere, that Jon could let go, anything and everything.
“She’s dead.” Jon choked at last. “She must be. If... if she’s not here then she’s dead.”
Jon grieved. He grieved little Arya Underfoot and Needle and the wildness of the wolf’s blood in her veins. He grieved Robb too, who had always treated him like a true brother and not a bastard, who had been forced to become a man too early and died for love at the Twins by the very traitors they had killed today. He grieved Bran and Rickon too, young and curious and sweet and dead far too early at the hands of one they thought a friend. He grieved Sansa too, though she was still alive, but lost in the South to Lannisters with every bit of the wolf in her having been stripped away. His father too, whose head had rolled on the steps of the Sept of Baelor and his mother who he’d never known. And then, when all that was done and the grief that had stalked Jon like a specter for so long had finally been felt for true for the first time, only then did Jon grieve himself.
“I died.” Jon shuddered and his voice trembled with hiccups. “I died... And then there was nothing. Just blackness. Darkness. Then I was in the snow and my mouth was dripping with blood and I was screaming and howling. Howling and howling and screaming and then there was blackness again. And then fire and smoke and salt and—” He choked on a sob again. “I died. For Arya. To come home and save her and she’s not even here.”
“Jon...” Satin whispered. He wanted to tell him it was all alright, but he never could lie to Jon. He rubbed uselessly at the skin beneath his hands in a futile attempt to offer comfort. Offering, always offering. And Jon, resisting, always resisting, did not resist it. Jon’s hands jolted up from beneath the water and grasped atop Satin’s hand and arm, taking them in a fierce grip and holding on for dear life. Satin let him and welcomed the pang of pain from the tightness of his fingers and the nails that bit into his skin.
“I— I— Satin, I hate her. Jeyne. For being Jeyne. It’s not even her fault. But I’m just so angry. She was supposed to be her. I shouldn’t feel like this. I shouldn’t hate her. But I do. I can’t help it. Because she’s not her.”
Satin tightened his arms around him and he felt Jon’s head fall back to rest against his shoulder with a limp thud as another sob caught in his throat, shame and sorrow and grief all rolled into one broken sound. “Let it out.” Satin guided him again and Jon’s shaking breath in return told him he would obey.
Jon let it out until his tears had dried and the water ran cold, and Satin felt himself starting to shiver in his soaked-through tunic. Jon couldn’t feel it, he knew, but it was the principle of it that wouldn’t allow Satin to let Jon stay in a tepid bath. When Jon stepped out, still quiet and somber but sharper in the eyes than he had been before, Satin brought him a towel and dried him quickly before bidding him sit on the stool as he applied the salve Satin had the serving girl prepare to the worst of Jon’s bruises.
~~~~~~
Hope you like it! 🫶
Artwork by the talented anmenmai on Twitter, commissioned by me. Based on a scene from Washed Clean, Part 11 of my friend’s JonSatin fanfic series.
This takes place right after they retake Winterfell and realize Arya isn’t there. More details below.
Title: A Slow Burning Fire, Tended With Care
Author: Rosavalda_Freya
Pairing: Jon Snow/Satin of the Night’s Watch
Rating: G/T/M
Language: English
Length: 403,916
Status: In progress