You hated Jon. More than anything. Anyone. And he hated you. You hated him so much, that you grew attached to your constants fights. You got used to his remarks. To him.

When the wildlings attacked, you were there too, fighting. Jon was not so far from you. After you had killed your enemy, breathless, you scanned the area for danger.

And then you saw it.

It was like time stopped when you saw Jon, fighting with some enemy, unaware of the wildlings coming behind him, his sword in hand.

You swallowed and a wave of panic washed you. Real panic. You were scared. Genuinely. And before you could think, you already had moved behind Jon where the wildlings was coming. To protect him. You didn’t have the time to realize what was happening that you felt a sharp pain in your stomach. The wildling stabbed you.