GoT Imagines One-Shots and Drabbles

Gone (Jon Snow x Reader Drabble/Oneshot)

Credit to the Gif Creator

Summary: Jon becomes concerned when he can't find (YN) after a battle.

Word Count:750

Warnings: There is angst, lot's of angst as Jon deals with the death of the reader. There are also descriptions of the reader's dead body. It's a pretty heavy piece, please read with caution

Hope you enjoy and please, feel free to drop me a message, feedback is always welcomed and encouraged.

Jon made his way around the battlefield praying to the gods that he wouldn't find you. The battle was long over, he was exhausted and bleeding and needed to seek attention from the healers, but he had not seen you since the battle had ended and the feeling of dread growing in his chest was beginning to consume him. Around him, the snow-covered ground lay littered with the bodies of wights, their rotten flesh hanging from their mangled bones. Beside them lay his soldiers, their blood-soaked lifeless bodies waiting silently for someone to set them alight with flames and save their souls from the bony grip of the Night King.

Somewhere in the middle of battle, he lost you. One moment you were fighting by his side, the next moment, he was piercing a white walker with longclaw, watching him shatter into a million pieces, before turning around and finding you gone. Silently he hoped he would not find you, that he would return to the camp empty-handed and find you waiting for him by the fire in your tent, a smile gracing your lips just for him. Inhaling deeply, he lifted his head to the sound of Tormund calling his name, his voice sounding disturbed and upset, looking in the direction of his voice, Jon saw him standing there his shoulders visibly slumped and his head hanging to the ground as he once again called out Jon's name. Despite the heavy thumps in his chest, Jon could feel his breaths growing shallow, his stomach dropping at the sight of a body lying motionless at Tormund's feet, his own feet feeling as if they were frozen solid to the ground beneath, unable to move him forward.

Jon didn't know how his legs got him moving, yet they did and the closer he got to Tormund the more he wanted to turn around and run, but he couldn't, he had to know, was it you? With unwilling eyes, he dropped his gaze to the ground, instantly recognizing the cloak that was wrapped around your unmoving form, his throat restricting the flow of air to his chest and his heart feeling heavy with the worst kind of dread. Falling to his knees, he picked your breathless body up into his arms turning you around, he needed to see your face, your skin so pale and cold as your (EC) eyes, which were once so beautiful and full of life, stared back at him dull and hollow. Unable to bear the sight, he took a gentle hand and closed them for you, never to open again, the mere thought sending his body numb.

With tender fingers, Jon brushed the dirt from your cheeks and it would have been easy to think of you asleep. Your face was now clean, there was no blood and your (HC) hair fell in soft locks around your peaceful features. Moving his gaze over your body, you looked unharmed but for a single wound piercing your torso, there was no flow of blood and your clothes were barely drenched in red. Placing his fingers to your wound it felt cold and frozen, the snow sealing over your flesh as you had fallen to the ground. Pulling you into his chest, he felt despair wash over him, sorrow filling every thought in his head and every fibre of his body, your arm hanging to the ground, moving limply with every heave of his grieving body.

Cradling your head under his chin, he wondered how he would go on without you, you had been his life for so long now and suddenly you were gone, gone forever. Never would he see you smile again, never hear you laugh and never hear you cry, never touch your warm and inviting lips with his and never grow old with you. Standing up he held you tight looking around the field listlessly not knowing what to do, not knowing where to go, taking steps back and forth leading him nowhere, yet unable to stand still his grief rendering him helpless. Once again, he fell to his knees his legs collapsing from under him, his body falling into the fresh white snow, still holding you against his chest. Laying there, he welcomed the soft, cold powder as it enveloped him, surrounding his body making him feel numb, hoping and praying it would let him feel nothing. Yet, realising with monopolizing despair that nothing would help him, you were gone and you were gone forever.