Playing the Game (Game of Thrones)

It wasn’t that Jon had anything in particular against whores on a personal basis. But at the same time, the idea of laying with one as his first time ever was… disgusting. That wasn’t to say he wouldn’t some time in the future, given the chance, but this felt different. This first go at a woman, it felt like it had to mean something. Of course, in the grand scheme of things having ‘meaning’, bedding a Steward’s daughter wasn’t all that special either.
 
But Jeyne was still the best of his two easiest choices, and Jon found himself drawn to her over the whore outside of the castle with each passing moment that he thought about it. Which was why he made sure to make eyes at Jeyne, when dinner finally came around. As the Steward’s daughter, she was sat a bit higher on the food chain than Jon himself, even if he was the Lord of Winterfell’s bastard. At the end of the day, where her father’s title afforded Jeyne more respect, Jon’s birth status afforded him more disrespect than his Lordly father could ever make up for.
 
All the same, it wasn’t too difficult to catch her eye, nor was it all that hard to throw her a roguish smile and a wink. Jeyne’s eyes widen at that, but not in a bad way if the shy, surprised, but altogether happy smile that splits her lips is anything to go off of. She averts her gaze after a moment but can’t help glancing over at him throughout the meal. Jon, meanwhile, makes use of the fact that nobody ever pays the bastard any mind to basically make eyes at her for the entire dinner.
 
By the time the meal ends, and everyone is getting up to leave, Jon is rock hard in the confines of his trousers. Jeyne Poole, meanwhile, is nibbling at her lower lip and constantly sneaking glances his way now, as if to see what he’s going to do. When he does nothing, Jeyne makes to leave the room, only to nearly jump out of her skin when he begins to follow her.
 
She leads him out of Winterfell’s hall, with Jon making sure to keep a respectful distance as he trails behind her. There’s still a chance for her to change her mind after all, a chance for her to shut him down. While she’s not likely to do so outright, if she really is afraid of him, she can easily go to a guard and complain about him following her. Jon’s distance will allow him to claim that he was simply going the same direction at her, and that the girl was making something out of nothing.
 
The one thing that the Steward’s daughter wouldn’t do, if she weren’t at least a little interested, would be to go straight to her quarters, stop at the door and give him a look of longing… and then leave said door several inches ajar for him. Seeing as Jeyne Poole does EXACTLY that, Jon makes sure to look left and right, and then he heads over, his head held high, his shoulders squared, and a confident, easy smile on his lips.
 
Stepping into the young woman’s room, Jon finds a rather simple sleeping area. Even more simple than his, surprisingly enough. Though, when you really thought about it, it made an irritating sort of sense. In public, a Steward’s Daughter stood above a Lord’s Bastard, because of Lady Catelyn Stark and her vendetta against him. In private, a Lord’s Bastard was afforded a bit more comfort than a Steward’s Daughter, if only because Lord Eddard Stark cared for his bastard son and Jon’s comfort and made sure he had at least halfway decent quarters.
 
Regardless, Jeyne’s room isn’t THAT bad. It’s certainly the kind of place he could see himself taking her to bed in. Speaking of which… Jon smiles as Jeyne fiddles with her dress, looking away but not screaming or telling him to get out.
 
“Hello, Jeyne.”
 
Something in his voice must really work for her, because the Steward’s daughter experiences a full body shudder at that, licking her lips. Finally, she glances up at his eyes.
 
“H-Hello Jon…”
 
He likes that. That she doesn’t call him Snow. To be fair, most of the women in Winterfell refer to him as Jon. Even Sansa, so eager to emulate her mother Lady Stark, still calls him Jon. Catelyn Stark doesn’t, of course, and neither does the Septon, though they rarely interact. But where all of the men save for his brothers and father refer to him as Snow, including Theon, the girls do not.
 
And in this instant, Jeyne does not. Which means more to him than she could possibly know. Stepping closer, Jon watches as Jeyne trembles, but interestingly enough, doesn’t shrink back. She doesn’t try to escape him, as he prowls ever closer.
 
“I saw you looking at me at breakfast, Jeyne. So, I decided to look at you at dinner. And you know what?”
 
“Y-Yes?”
 
Jon leans in close, his nostrils flaring as his lips rest just inches away from Jeyne’s flesh.
 
“I liked what I saw.”
 
And then he takes her up in his arms and kisses her. It’s not a particularly gentle kiss, but somewhat rough and savage… the sort of thing that one might call ‘manly’, as he holds Jeyne close and kisses her deeply. Of course, if she wasn’t willing, this would probably be a hardship for her to endure. But she is willing, she’s oh-so-willing, and the moment he pulls her in, Jeyne Poole collapses against him, her hands coming up to rest against his chest but not to push him away, and her lips pushing back against his lips just as hard. Jon initiates things, but the kiss is a mutual one, which they both thoroughly enjoy.
 
After a few moments though, they do have to come up for air. As they do so, Jon’s eyes twinkle and his tone turns husky as he looks down at Jeyne.
 
“What about you, Jeyne? Did you like what you saw?”
 
For a moment, Jeyne just blushes heavily. Then, a small smile and a nod as she ducks her head, resting her forehead against his chest. Jon is just about to push forward with his plans however when she leans back and looks at him, her face falling.
 
“Jon… I don’t think we should do this…”
 
She’s an observant, intelligent girl, to already understand where he wants to go with this. And while she’s no noblewoman, there is a certain stigma around losing your maidenhood to a man you are not married to, especially for a Steward’s daughter. But Jon doesn’t care about that. He wants her. He needs to be inside of her. Letting out a low growl, Jon leans in close, bumping his forehead against Jeyne’s, staring her right in the eyes.
 
Jeyne Poole is not a vision of beauty, or anything like that, but she is a soft, pretty young woman, and Jon knows that he wants her. He also knows, just from looking into her eyes, that she wants him right back. So, when he next speaks, its with a rumbling confidence and a knowing gaze as he stares at her.
 
“If you want me to leave, just say so. If you want me to stop, tell me to stop. If this isn’t something you want deep within your heart just as I do, then all you have to do is say no.”
 
He waits a beat, giving her a chance to reject him right then and there. Ros was still an acceptable backup plan, if that proved necessary. But while Jeyne’s mouth opens, no words come from it, and after a moment she shuts it again and doesn’t resist when he kisses her again. Nor does she resist when he begins to pull at her dress, tugging it down off her shoulders and then off her body altogether.
 
As his mouth lowers to feast upon her breasts, his tongue sliding across her hardening nipples, Jeyne moans and writhes, but she does not tell him to stop, she does not ask him to leave. If she did, he would have been gone in an instant. It would have left him more than a little frustrated for sure, but nonetheless, he was an honorable sort of man, and he had no desire to hurt her.
 
But he was going to fuck her. It didn’t take long to get them both out of their clothes and onto Jeyne’s bed. The old wooden frame of the bed groaned and creaked a wee bit in protest of having more weight than the slip of a girl who usually lay her head down to rest upon it every night, but Jon was too lost in what he was doing already to worry about that sort of thing.
 
Jeyne was similarly lost, and even growing more enthusiastic by the passing moment. Her hands slide up and down his body as assuredly as his slide up and down her own, and it’s Jeyne who in fact takes hold of his cock and guides him between her legs, which she spreads apart to make way for him, her nervousness and her concern clearly temporary as she eagerly presses him into her slit. It returns to her then though, and she pauses, biting her lower lip as they pull apart for a moment.
 
When he looks down into her eyes, however, Jon doesn’t see a girl nervous to continue onward, he sees a young woman waiting for HIM to deliver the finishing touch. Drawing her hands away from his member, intertwining their fingers together, Jon Snow thrusts forward, pushing through Jeyne’s hymen, taking her virginity and claiming her for himself.
 
He watches as her face contorts in both pain and pleasure, watches her mouth open to let out a yell. He silences her before she can make a single noise with his lips once more on her own, the two of them kissing deeply. Their tongues writhe against one another, and Jon quickly begins to thrust away inside of Jeyne’s sex, begins to fuck her as he’d been so desperate to, all day long.
 
He can’t explain it, but it doesn’t feel like his first time. This is the first woman he’s ever been with, and yet, he knows exactly what to do. He knows how to please her. He knows how to please himself and slake his lusts upon her body. So that’s exactly what Jon does. And as he slides in and out of Jeyne’s freshly deflowered quim, the Steward’s daughter mewls and moans into his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck and spreading her legs for him all the wider.
 
Jon can’t say how long they go at it like that. Eventually though, he can feel himself getting close, just as he can somehow tell Jeyne is the same way. The desire to fill her with his seed is strong, and before Jon knows what he’s doing, he’s speeding up, taking her even faster, fucking her even harder. Jeyne cries out, and her head tilts back as she experiences an immense, mind-unraveling release, and in the midst of her ecstasy, Jon unloads into her womb, filling it with his white, hot ejaculate. It feels right, to do it. It feels right to… claim her in this way.
 
It continues to feel right, even as they lay there, him on top of her, panting heavily and each coming down from their respective pleasure highs. And then the moment is shattered by the door opening.
 
“Jeyne, are you in her- by the SEVEN! JON!”
 
Sansa’s loud shout causes him to whip his head around, but by the time he’s done so, his sister is already gone, the red head fleeing down the hall. And judging by the look of sheer panic on Jeyne’s face, Sansa isn’t about to keep quiet about this.
 
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By the time morning rolls around, Jon having retreated to his quarters to await… well, whatever there was to await, everyone in the castle seems to know. Jon isn’t surprised when his father sends men to collect him even before breakfast time. Jon goes, because of course he does. And to be fair, he doesn’t see what he’s done wrong. Why should he be ashamed for laying with a woman? It’s only what they expect from a bastard like him…
 
Still, to see the bone-deep weariness on Ned Stark’s face as Jon is left alone with his father in his solar, it does cause a twinge of guilt to spark in Jon’s chest. But the primal, roaring voice that’s been growing within him since his Nameday yesterday snuffs it out. Despite the fact that he’s a bastard, and his father is a Lord, Jon… doesn’t feel like he should have to bow down to this man seated before him, for some strange reason.
 
“Jon… what have you done?”
 
Lord Stark sounds deeply, deeply tired. Jon can imagine the man didn’t sleep well, if Sansa had gone straight to her parents and told both the Lord and Lady of Winterfell what she’d seen. He can only imagine how Catelyn Stark reacted to the news. Jon, meanwhile, slept like a baby.
 
“My Lord.”
 
Ned flicks his eyes to Jon, and then looks away again, seeming to almost be lost in thought.
 
“You’ve left me with little choice, Jon. Cat wants you out of Winterfell before the King and the Royal Party arrives. I’ve had your horse prepared, along with provisions… you leave for the Night’s Watch after breakfast, which you will not take in the Great Hall.”
 
Jon stiffens at that.
 
“I didn’t rape the Poole girl, father.”
 
Here, Ned startles. He looks confused for a moment, before shaking his head.
 
“No one is saying you did, Jon. Well, Cat… but no. Jeyne Poole herself has confirmed that it was consensual and more than that, a mutual choice. She spoke on your behalf, but that doesn’t change the fact that I cannot turn aside the Lady of Winterfell’s ire this time. You deflowered the Steward’s daughter, and worse, your sister walked in on the two of you.”
 
“And for that, you would send me to the Night’s Watch? What crime have I committed?”
 
Here, Eddard Stark looks at Jon with a frown.
 
“I only thought… I believed that your plan was to serve with the Night’s Watch, to leave with Benjen when he next came to visit. That time table has only been moved up. Was this not your last hoorah, my son?”
 
Ah, that explained it. It felt like a lifetime ago that Jon had wanted to join the Night’s Watch, but for the Lord of Winterfell, it’d basically been the plan all of Jon’s life. It made sense that Ned would just assume that was where Jon would go now, if Catelyn would truly no longer tolerate his presence in Winterfell.
 
“… And what if I no longer care for that path? Perhaps I’ll go South instead.”
 
His father looks more pained than he ever has in Jon’s presence before now at that. Never did Jon think there would be a day when he would see Eddard Stark of Winterfell, Lord Paramount of the North squirm, but there it was. There’s silence between them for several seconds, dragging on far past anything reasonable, before finally, Ned just nods.
 
“If… that is your wish, so be it. But I cannot support you if you choose to go that route. The horse and provisions in the stables are only for a man on his way to the Wall. Not for a man on his way South.”
 
Jon’s jaw clenches at that. So that’s how it is then? His father will help him get to the Wall so that he can sell his soul to the Night’s Watch and spend the rest of his life miserable and freezing his balls off, but the moment Jon shows a backbone, his dear Lord Father abandons him? He really shouldn’t be surprised, he supposes.
 
Something of his anger must show on his face, however, because before he can make a decision, before he can say something else, Lord Stark looks to the side and then back to him again, something like resolve showing on his face.
 
“Perhaps a third option.”
 
Pulling free a parchment, Ned begins to write.
 
“You may take the horse and the provisions, as well as this writ, with you… if you promise me you will go to White Harbor and seek passage to Braavos. This writ will entitle you to one hundred silver stags in White Harbor, and with that, you should be able to open an account in Braavos, allowing you to seek your fortunes there, across the Narrow Sea.”
 
As Jon stands there stunned, his father finishes writing and folds up the parchment, sealing it properly and holding it out to him. Eddard Stark looks him right in the eye at that, deadly serious.
 
“If you want freedom, then the Free Cities might just be where you find it, Jon. But one way or the other, it’s time to choose.”
 
Jon’s mouth is dry as he considers the options before him. Did he go to the Wall, despite his reservations? Did he go South, with nothing but the clothes on his back, not even a horse or a weapon to his name? Or did he go to Braavos, journeying to Essos with a rather substantial sum of coin, to find a new life there for himself?

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