Chapter Text
When Birthday Wishes Come True
Chapter 1: Stood Up and Ready to Jump
Jon’s POV
“Happy Birthday,” Jon’s friends cheered as he opened the door to his apartment, and they began to pour in.
He led them inside and turned on the music, and waited for everyone to arrive. Bass thumped from the floor, through his toes, to his heart. Every new guest made his anxiety and disappointment rise. An hour into the party and his friend, Sam Tarly, asked if he was ready to cut the cake and open presents.
He shook his head, not saying a word. His steps were rushed as he headed to the kitchen counter, where alcoholic beverages were on display for all to enjoy. It was his twenty-second birthday, and his final year of college.
His apartment was nicer than most of his classmates, though he made sure it wasn’t ostentatious. He didn’t care about his clothes or other luxuries, opting to wear jeans, a white tee, and a flannel shirt today. His uncle cut off his credit cards a couple years ago, instead sending a small but sizable allowance that Sam and Tormund would shit a brick if they saw but to him was a pittance to what he had once been accustomed to.
He worked a crappy job part time. Most people considered him a nerd; shy with a clean-shaven baby face, wearing wire-rimmed glasses. His straight A’s, anxiety, and broody nature didn’t do much to contend the reputation.
Whiskey burned down his throat as he gulped down the first drink in one go, immediately pouring another and doing the same. He flicked his head to the side to get a stray dark curl out if his gray solemn eyes that had fallen out of the knot tied at the base of his neck. A clap on his back had him turning to see who approached.
“Where’s Ygritte?” Tormund asked.
The three of them had gone to school at Winterfell prep their entire lives. Jon had siblings and was from the richest family in the North, but no one knew. His cousins were well-known and popular, loving the attention. But Jon had hated it, preferring to blend in. His parents, Brandon and Lyanna, died at a young age, so he started using his mother’s maiden name in her honor.
His uncle, Ned Stark, had expected him to go to Winterfell University and take over the family business as the only son of Brandon, Ned’s eldest brother and the heir before him. But Jon turned him down, refused offers to Weirwood League schools, choosing to follow Ygritte to Queenscrown, where he continued to go by the surname Snow.
Ned had been angry and disappointed, following through on his promise that Jon would have to carve his own path without his support. Four years had passed, and he barely kept in touch with the Starks. Their only connection in recent years was the occasional birthday card, phone call begging for him to come home, and the transfer of money to his main checking account on the first of the month.
When Jon first started pursuing Ygritte, they often spoke of the future, of settling down somewhere in the Gift, and how many kids they would have. She was from the far North and hated the South, and to her, everything was South. But as the years went on, they became more distant.
Despite their plans and the many private memories he had where Ygritte would promise him the same, she treated him quite differently in public. It began when they arrived at university. Her moods shifted like the wind; one day she would treat him as a friend, the next ignore him altogether.
Then she stopped standing up for him when the jocks made fun of him. Ironic considering they met when she stood up to Alliser Thorne bullying him in fifth grade. It was how their friendship was born and why Jon felt so loyal to her. But each day since college began, she was increasingly absent from get-togethers he invited her to. Now it was his fucking birthday and she was two hours late.
The phone in his hand stayed still and silent as he clicked the button to turn the screen off for the millionth time. Confetti canons exploded around him as his friends all cheered, the sparkling bright colors of foil and paper landing to stick in his curls and clothes. Lamely, he had bought flowers and made a jar of paper stars filled with a surprise.
His hands had ached after making each star, but the real present was buried within. The brightly colored paper and flowers mocked him from the counter. His jaw clenched and his hands fisted as he checked the urge to knock them to the floor so he wouldn’t have to keep looking at them.
He checked his phone again. Nothing. Just as he was about to stuff it into his pocket, it lit up.
Ygritte’s name and picture appeared in a notification bubble. He clicked it open to read the text. She was running late with no explanation or time when she would arrive.
His heart shattered like he had pictured the glass jar doing a moment before. Crunched as if Ygritte had stepped on it, stabbing him in the chest with her red bottom stilettos and twisting it with glee. He could hear her laughing at him. It was ringing in his ears.
“Jon?” Sam called, eying him warily.
“Let’s go ahead and cut the cake,” Jon finally replied, his voice hoarse from emotion.
Tormund paused the music while Ed grabbed the cake from the kitchen, the candles blazing as they began to sing ‘Happy Birthday’. Jon barely heard them, the room blurring as he was lost in his thoughts. The entire campus called him a simp to his face.
He has endured countless humiliations all for his pursuit of his high school sweetheart. Jon plopped down on the couch, his legs feeling weak as his heart constricted tightly in his chest. The cake sat gingerly before him on the living room table.
His eyes closed tightly as he blew out the candles; his only wish was for the pain to go away. When he opened them, he grabbed the knife to cut into the cake, not paying attention to his friends. A phone dinged.
From the corner of his eyes, he saw Sam show his phone to Ed, then to Tormund. Tormund quickly thrust the phone in front of Jon’s face, a video playing on screen. Ygritte was in a nightclub, the Wolf’s Den, to be exact.
They had gone there many nights, and it was a popular college hangout. She danced provocatively with Ramsay, rubbing her ass up and down Ramsay’s body. Ramsay was some rich kid jock whose parents bought his admittance by paying for a new hockey arena.
He also happened to be the school council president. Even in college, they were mostly popularity contests. From what Jon could tell, the president didn’t do anything but throw parties and barely attend class, and of course, there were zero repercussions.
After watching for a moment, Tormund quickly shut off his phone. Ed grabbed the knife from Jon’s hand, afraid of what he might do as it shook in Jon’s hand. Jon frowned and bit his lip, using all of his energy not to break down in front of all the people who attended his party.
Once he was certain he could speak, he stood, grabbing his glass of whiskey.
“Since the proposal flopped, let’s not waste the booze. Cheers to me. I am swearing off love. No more chasing Ygritte or anyone else.”
“About time, mate. She never deserved you,” Tormund stated, nearly knocking him over as he patted his back.
“Totally. She always took you for granted,” Ed agreed as Sam nodded vigorously beside him.
“Damn right,” he heard Grenn say.
“She always thought she was irreplaceable.”
“Preach!”
Jon was done. He didn’t feel depressed and heartbroken as he had countless times before, even earlier when she simply blew him off. Instead, he felt numb.
His father had begged him to attend Winterfell University so he could come back and become the heir to his father’s business with his cousin, Robb. He refused so he could stay close to Ygritte. And it was all for naught.
As the party wound down, Jon walked his friends down the stairs to the front door of his apartment building, making sure to grab the bouquet of roses and jar to throw in the garbage so he didn’t have to look at them. A rain cloud had opened up and unloaded on them, as if the old gods wanted to match his mood.
As he wished his friends goodbye, Ramsay’s car pulled up in his yellow Bugatti and stole their attention. Ygritte hopped out of the passenger’s side, holding an umbrella, her tailored outfit, and perfectly coiffed red hair protected from the dreary weather. She walked up like nothing happened, a smile plastered upon her painted red lips.
“Am I late?” Ygritte asked, feigning innocence.
He couldn’t believe he fell for her act for as long as he did. No one said a word, his friends crowded next to and behind him as they watched on. Jon stared blankly at her.
She had never been one comfortable with silence, prattling on to fill it. It had suited him fine as he didn’t have to try to come up with the words himself, and he had been content to listen. Now, he rolled his eyes as she kept on.
“Oh, Jon. Don’t misunderstand. Ramsay is just a friend. If you can’t handle your jealousy, you should just stop pursuing me.”
“Aye. As you wish. I’m out,” Jon calmly replied.
Ygritte’s eyes widened, her demeanor instantly changing.
“This is the last gift you’ll ever receive from me,” he said, handing her the huge jar of origami stars he made, each one by hand with the special gift hidden inside.
He had prepared it specifically for his pursuit proposal, which she would never get. But he would leave her with this so she would realize how big of a mistake she made.
“Starting today, we’re even.”
Ygritte took the jar and tucked it into the crook of her elbow, pouting up at him.
“Since when do you play hard to get? Fine. You’re forgiven,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken, smiling brightly again. “Tomorrow I want pastries from Hot Pies. Make sure to get them early.”
“Ygritte,” Jon calmly began. “Let me make this clear. From today on, I quit”
“WE ARE DONE,” he yelled as he tossed the roses into the air, the bouquet breaking apart as petals fluttered all around them and landed on the wet street.
If he could’ve foreseen the future and known she would show up at this moment, he would’ve wished for someone to take a picture of her face as he blew out the candles. Her flabbergasted expression only gave him the smallest bit of satisfaction. He knew if he stayed there, she would hold him hostage.
She would whine and manipulate him, making up a hundred excuses, then berate him for daring to stand up for himself. He didn’t wait to hear anymore. So he turned and walked away.
He wasn’t even sure where he was going, just that he needed to get away. If he stayed at his apartment, she was sure to follow. His friends ran after him, calling his name.
Before he turned the corner, he heard Ygritte yell, “Jon! Stop right there! Jon! If you leave, don’t you dare bring me breakfast for a whole week,” she stomped her heeled designer boot in the rain.
Ygritte was wealthy, but she wasn’t as wealthy as the elites. She was upper-middle class, technically, and wanted to climb the social ladder as high as she possibly could. A gold digger was the proper term.
He understood that now, as he began to look back on the last several years. Her father doted on her and spoiled her, but not nearly as much as Jon had, draining his allowance and whatever he had left over after bills from his job. He didn’t stop walking, even after the rain stopped and the summer heat made the humidity oppressive.
It was late summer in the North, the beginning of his senior year, which could sometimes yield a dusting of snow. This summer, however, had broken records. Usually there was one month of 70s and maybe a couple of days of 80 degrees, but this year it reached 90.
He could barely stand it, ripping off his baggy flannel tee and tying it around his waist. His glasses fell to the ground, and he didn’t bother to retrieve them. The humidity had his hair a frizzy mess, so he ripped out the tie and brushed his hands through it.
He had lost everything for Ygritte, willingly gave it all up as long as he could make her happy. Jon reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. It was a habit he had kept hidden from everyone to appease his reputation and relationship with Ygritte.
When the flame was against the tip, he inhaled, enjoying the way the smoke burned in his lungs as he breathed it in. Suddenly, hundreds of dragon bills floated down from the sky all around him, like the confetti at his party earlier. When he looked up, he found himself on a bridge.
A petite girl was sitting on the railing, pulling cash from her purse and flinging it into the air. It fell to the river below and the street behind her as it fluttered in the wind. Her hair was the color of moonlight and sunbeams, silver and gold, falling in waves down her back.
Her face was obscured by her hair, but he liked her style. She wore a black leather jacket that he was hot just looking at her wear, for how she looked in it, and the way he was already sweating. A short black skirt and black stockings accentuated the toned curves of her slim legs.
Her legs and feet disappeared as they hung off the side of the bridge. Even as she looked completely mad as she continued to throw money around and scream into the midnight void, he couldn’t help but notice how smoking hot she was.
“This lifetime, I didn’t spend it all. Next lifetime, come find me! Come find me! Come find me,” she yelled.
This crazy chick was talking to her money. Great, no matter how gorgeous she was, he didn’t need this shit right now, to come across some suicidal mad thing who speaks to inanimate objects. Like his night wasn’t bad.
He really didn’t have the patience for whatever bullshit she was going through, but he also couldn’t just stand there and let her jump, could he? Besides, she had it all wrong.
Jon walked up to her, leaned against the guardrail, and spoke to her. “If you want to take that cash to the other side, you have to burn it.”
She turned to look at him, and he was struck by how beautiful she was. The silver-spun hair framed a heart-shaped face. Huge purple eyes behind dark lashes narrowed at him below bushy brows. Her blood red stained lips were plump and pouty as she snatched her purse from beside her and tossed it at his feet.
“Get lost,” she simply said with a haughty smile with dimples in her cheeks, before crossing her arms and turning to look back out to the dark waters below the bridge.
Jon took another drag of his cigarette, then took another step closer as he expelled the smoke, as he replied. “When luck runs out, anything is possible. Even playing hero to strangers.”
She leaned towards him, “You?”
“Not enough?” Jon asked with confident snark.
The girl smirked, watching him as he took another drag. Before he finished the hit of his cigarette, she stood on the rail and opened her arms as she leaned forward in greeting to her demise. Jon didn’t think, tossing his cigarette and jumping over the railing.
He held onto the bar with one hand, his feet braced against the beams for support and leverage, and grasped onto the hand that had been closest to him just before she was out of reach. She hung there looking up at him, not in gratitude, but in pure rage.
She tried to pull away, reaching up with her free hand to hit his as she screamed at him to let go. His muscles strained and shook, and their hands were sweaty in the muggy summer night. Something fell from her person, landing with a plop in the murky rushing waters below.
Jon didn’t know if it was adrenaline, the old gods, or the ancient magic the Stark blood was said to possess, but with all his strength he swung his arm, flinging her over the side of the guardrail as she landed in the street on her arse. He wasted no time in jumping back over to safety.
Before he could thank the old gods, he was back on solid ground, she stood up and ran back towards the guardrail. Jon acted quickly and blocked her path, pushing her back. He repeated the process as she desperately screamed and tried to get around him.
“Let go! Fucking let me go! I want to be with my mom! Let me go!”
His face grew hot in anger, having had enough of this mad chick’s antics. All the humiliation and rage of this shit night grew inside him, and he slapped her. It was finally enough to stop her, but unfortunately, not enough to shut her up.
“You hit me?”
She reached to her side, searching for something, but came up empty. Jon took the opportunity to get a word in before she could do some other crazy shit.
“Listen up. I saved you. Your life now belongs to me. Even if you want to die, you need my permission from now on,” he scolded her, raising his voice.
To his surprise, she smiled. “So you’re saying, I’m yours now?
He furrowed his brows. “Are you insane?”
“Yes, I’m utterly crazy,” she grinned, stepping closer to him and raising a hand to his cheek. “But this face… totally my type.”
Jon grabbed her wrist and pulled her fingers away. He wouldn’t admit the way his skin tingled where she touched. It was only an hour ago he swore off women, he wouldn’t be fooled by some mad girl.
But she didn’t take offense, nor did it deter her. Instead, she grabbed his hand back and took an obsidian beaded bracelet from her other wrist to put it on his. She smiled down at it, admiring the bracelet he was now wearing.
He tried to pull away to remove it, but she gripped him tighter, pulling his arm towards her and snapping at him.
“Dare to take it off, and I’ll kill you.”
“Fucking psycho. I don’t have time for your shit,” he said, finally ripping his arm away from her.
She grinned, batting her lashes and looking at the ground, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
“Tell me where you live and I’ll take you home,” he said, looking away and frowning.
She stepped up and leaned her face close to his, her wide eyes bright. “I don’t have a home.”
He scrubbed his hands down his face. His place was big enough that he had an extra bed in his room. If she robbed him she could have the crap, could just replace it.
He was too tired to care anymore, and it was past midnight. Besides, she was a tiny thing, so he didn’t have to worry about her hurting him. Tomorrow, he would send her on her way and call his uncle.