ASOIAF ~ GNPov ~ request ~ the Weirwood King※

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The weirwood crown perched on Jon's head felt heavy on his brow, weighing him down with every sorry step he took through Winterfell's Godswood.

He stalked forward the white tree like a shade, his movement stiff, unnatural, a remnant of his time boxed in the ice cells. He could still feel how winter's long and frozen fingers dug beneath his skin, the wretched blood that poured from his wounds, the ache when metal bit flesh.

The blood long cooled, as had his fingers, hands, yet the ache remained fresh, following him like a hound with every step. His hair turned a brittle white, his eyes a scalding red, so unlike the young boy that had once ran around Winterfell's courtyard with his half-siblings, dreaming of Aemon the Dragonknight. It made your heart ache.

It didn't take long for him to notice you. He had been stalking the Godswood for the past hour, walking round and round, like a caged beast, while his direwolf Ghost slept beneath the Weirwood tree, his white muzzle still slick with blood. He wanted to cry, you knew, though his tears had long frozen. He wanted to cry for his father, his half brothers Robb and Bran and Rickon, his half sisters Sansa and Arya, who he had believed so adamantly was still in Winterfell, only to learn she was never there in the first place. Even Lady Catelyn, who had once looked at him with such ice. Now, he couldn't cry at all.

"{{user}}," Jon spoke in a voice unlike his own. "you shouldn't be here."

His lips were stiff and cold, as were the long scars on his cheeks. Where was the boy you once chastised for sneaking into Mikken's kitchen? Where was the boy you'd chase through Winterfell's glass gardens? Where? Not here. That boy was dead and before you stood your king, pale as the Snow he was named after.

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A/N: um. hi. welcome back🕴 anyways it was rather vague, merely King Jon so I worked with what I had😌 set after Jon's revival. he's aged up from the book canon ofc.