Chapter 36 – Ygritte and Jon Snow
"How long do I have left to live, Jon Snow?"
"What?"
"When the time comes," Ygritte said quietly, her face half-lit by the fire, "I want you to be the one to do it. And burn me."
"Why?" Jon frowned. "Saelen promised he wouldn't harm you. He's an honorable knight. He doesn't break his word."
He didn't fully understand her meaning, but instinctively tried to comfort her.
Saelen's voice suddenly cut in.
"Why do you want us to burn you?"
"Because," Ygritte replied, her expression flickering in the firelight, "I don't want to die twice."
A chill ran through the camp.
"So," Saelen said steadily, "you've seen the White Walkers and their wight army."
Ygritte stared at him in surprise. "You've seen them too?"
"Of course we have," Theon boasted. "Three White Walkers surrounded us with their dead. I shot down at least sixty wights myself."
Nell, one of the captured wildlings, gasped. "Impossible! How can you kill something that's already dead? How did you do it?"
Theon raised his bow smugly. "With this."
Nell scoffed. "You think the Free Folk don't have archers?"
But then his face darkened with fear.
"No blade works. Not swords, not spears, not axes. You can cut off a head and the body still keeps moving. Only fire can truly finish them."
"Free Folk?" Smalljon Umber spat. "You're nothing but raiders. Just because you lot can't do it doesn't mean we can't."
"If Saelen hadn't stopped us," he added, "you'd already be headless."
Ed Karstark laughed. "I was on the front line. Killed more than that coward hiding in the back with a bow."
The men began arguing loudly about who had slain the most wights, boasting and laughing.
Ygritte watched them carefully. Their confidence didn't seem feigned.
Could they really be telling the truth?
Jon met her gaze.
"It's real," he said quietly. "A few months ago, I wouldn't have believed the dead could rise either. But we saw it with our own eyes. Saelen killed a White Walker himself."
Ygritte's certainty began to waver.
"How?" she asked at last.
Saelen slowly drew his greatsword. The blade gleamed coldly in the firelight.
"This."
Since facing the White Walkers, he had kept the blade at his side at all times. The sword given by the Children of the Forest—Dark Sister—he had entrusted to Robb.
"This is Ice," Jon explained softly. "The ancestral sword of House Stark. Forged from Valyrian steel. It's said to carry magic—magic that can cut down the White Walkers."
"How many swords like that do you have?" Ygritte asked.
"Two."
Her expression hardened. "And with only two swords, you killed an entire army of monsters?"
Saelen gave a faint smile.
"Of course not."
He drew a dagger and extended it toward her.
"We used this."
"A dragonglass dagger. Obsidian. Weapons forged from this stone can kill White Walkers too."
Though her hands were bound, Ygritte awkwardly took the blade and studied it. Black as night, glossy like glass, edges sharp as shattered shell. When she touched it, she felt a faint warmth.
For the first time, she began to believe—
The White Walkers could be killed.
---
Later That Night
Jon awoke in the darkness.
At some point, Ygritte had slipped into his arms.
She pressed close against him, her hips shifting deliberately.
Jon's breath caught.
Something primal stirred inside him—a raw, dangerous hunger. For a moment he felt less like a man and more like a beast. He wanted to seize her, pin her to the ground—
Then he remembered Catelyn Stark's cold gaze.
Bastards are treacherous. Bastards have no honor.
"No," Jon thought fiercely. Bastards can have honor.
He forced himself back to his senses and shoved Ygritte away, rolling over onto his side.
His heart pounded.
Part of him felt relieved.
Another part… disappointed.
He had never felt anything like that before.
For a moment, he almost turned back.
But then he remembered what Saelen had told him when he entrusted Ygritte to his care.
"Jon, I'm putting her under your watch."
"Why me?"
"Because I trust you."
Saelen had explained: they were all men. Months away from home. Blood and death behind them. If temptation arose, someone might lose control.
"But I don't believe bastards are without honor," Saelen had said. "They simply never get the chance to prove it."
"Jon Snow—I believe in you."
Jon had agreed because of those words.
And tonight, he had nearly failed that trust.
Eventually, tangled in doubt and desire, he drifted back to sleep.
---
The Next Morning
When Jon awoke, Ygritte was wrapped around him from behind, her leg draped over his.
Several men were already awake.
They saw everything.
Snickers spread through the camp.
Theon grinned wickedly. "Sleep well, Jon?"
Smalljon gave him exaggerated winks.
Jon flushed red, pushed Ygritte away, and stood abruptly. The whole camp had witnessed his humiliation.
Ygritte stretched theatrically.
"Some hard stick kept poking me all night," she complained innocently.
The men burst into laughter.
Lambard Tallhart added, "Then you should've trapped the damn thing and kept it from poking you!"
Laughter echoed through the camp.
After breakfast, Ygritte extended her bound hands toward Jon.
"I need to piss."
Jon blinked. "What?"
"Even prisoners have to piss, Jon Snow." She rolled her eyes. "You know nothing."
Jon: "…"
He glanced desperately toward the only woman present—Dacey Mormont—but she pretended not to notice.
The others watched with amusement.
Saelen smiled faintly. "She's your prisoner. You're responsible for everything—including that."
Resigned, Jon led Ygritte to a secluded spot.
He untied her wrists.
"Don't try anything."
She mimicked him in a mocking tone. "Don't try anything."
Jon turned away.
Behind him came rustling… then the sound of running water.
His thoughts wandered again to the previous night.
"Why didn't you take me?" Ygritte's voice came softly from behind. "I'm your captive. If I accept you, I'm yours."
Jon froze, unsure how to answer.
After a moment, she spoke again:
"Jon Snow… you know nothing."
Silence followed.
Jon waited.
Then, uneasy, he turned—
She was gone.
Already running.
"Damn it!" Jon swore, and sprinted after her.