Chapter Text
Tormund’s tent smelled of incense.
Jon had no idea where he was getting the shit, and he never had it burning for more than a moment or two, it seemed, because Jon could never see the smoke, and it was dissipated -though still lingering- by the morning after.
Jon would lay in the pile of furs that served as his bed at night -better and warmer than any bed that he’d have with the Night’s Watch, for sure- and stare at the half giant while he slept on, not a care in the world it seemed, and curse that damn scent of incense while sleep eluded him for most of the night.
He was exhausted.
And he hated that damn scent.
Below the Wall, they used this exact incense to cover up the smell of omega in heat, so no wondering alphas would come and bother them -for it was a grave offense indeed, to harm an omega while they were at their most vulnerable to touch- though Catelyn had a tendency to burn the shite when they had important guests over, saying that anyone from the south would feel more at home with it, because the south had so many more omegas, you could usually find the scent lingering in places.
Though, she only ever burnt it in the hallway leading up to Jon’s room.
He hated that fucking stench.
“Where are you getting the incense?”
Tormund blinked at him a few times, before going back to helping Ygritte get a fox over the fire to cook. He had come back with the pretty little white beast, and said he’d make Jon a new pair of gloves with it in a few days when it was done tanning, since Jon had yet to let go of the black gloves that he had come into the camp with.
He’d tried a few of them on, but they all smelled uncomfortable, and he couldn’t bare the thought of a stranger’s scent on his hands. Tormund and Ygritte were at least familiar enough, that he wouldn’t complain if it smelled like them, and he hasn’t had new gloves in a long time.
“Mance’s wife gave it to me. She said it would make you more comfortable. Said you southroners use it all the time below the Wall.”
Jon scowled. “She was wrong. I can’t stand the smell of it.”
Tormund moved to sit next to the scowling omega next to the fire. “You seem to hate the stuff, don’t you?”
Jon was quiet a minute, before nodding. “My father’s wife burned it, as if the smell could make her forget I existed. It made me wish my scent was strong enough to get to her even through it.” He picked at a fingernail playing with it for a second, before shoving his hand back into his gloves. “She was a beta, but she had the strongest nose of anyone I knew. She said she used it so no visiting alphas would bother the omegas in the castle. She said it was to make the southern visitors feel more at home. That it reminded her of her own home. She lied.”
Ygritte moved to take the seat on his other side, and for a moment, he wanted to snap at them that he didn’t need them crowding him.
The only thing that actually kept him, was the fact that they both loved it when he got angry with him. They both laughed and called him a dangerous little omega.
And it angered him the most, because for the first time in his life, since coming to the Wall even, they weren’t using his gender to tease him. When they called him dangerous, they meant it, and when they laughed at his anger, it wasn’t to make him less dangerous than he was, it was because they loved the way that nothing could keep him from spitting fire at them, no matter how much they annoyed him.
He’s kicked them both in the balls several times over that one. Neither of them were laughing from the ground, and even Mance had laughed with the others while they all watched the two of them drop like rocks in the snow.
Ygritte hadn’t tried to scent his neck -her offending action- and Tormund hadn’t tried teasing him about being too rowdy for the southron alphas to handle -his- again. At least, not only a day later, when they both still remembered the pain.
“Why did she hate you?”
“She didn’t hate me-”
Tormund and Ygritte both snorted. “She sure didn’t love you. I don’t think she even liked you.”
Jon leaned a little bit against Tormund’s arm, looking at Ygritte out of the corner of his eyes. “She… I wasn’t hers.”
“But she married your father.”
“Which is why she hated me, because I was the constant reminder that he slept with another woman while they were married.”
Ygritte shrugged. “It’s still stupid. You were a baby, it wasn’t your fault.”
Jon shook his head. “But, I was still the reason she couldn’t get over it.”
Tormund looked down at him, a frown in place on his face. “That was her fault. Her damn fault if she couldn’t love a motherless child, and her fault for not being able to see you as innocent. No one is born guilty, Jon Snow.”
And suddenly, quite a bit of this made sense to him. None of the free folk were guilty for being born on the wrong side of the Wall.
Fuck, he’s starting to see things their way.
He got up on shaky legs, one hand coming up to press at the throbbing temple of his forehead, - the reason he hadn’t gone on a hunt with them after they had set up camp that day, his heat was far too close, and he was under too much stress to do anything but sit and nurse the ache there.
They’d given him some options for what to do during his heat. He would spend it in the hot spring caves along the wall of the valley they walked right now, and he could either spend it with an alpha -or alphas- of his choosing, or the other omegas who would be in heat at the same time as him.
He wasn’t going to spend it with an alpha, but he was close to accepting to spend it with the other omegas. Better than being alone, at any rate.
He frowned at the dizzy feeling in his head, and gave a sudden, thankful prayer that he wasn’t with the Night’s Watcch right now, because he’d most likely be back in Crastor’s keep - where any of the brothers, and happily, Crastor himself, would most likely rape him till he’d whelped them a pup.
The idea of it made him sick, and he nearly stumbled, if not for one of Tormund’s hand’s on his hip -and god, the man was nearly as big as he was sitting down, that wasn’t appealing at all- and started back off towards the tent him and Tormund shared, only a few yards off. “I feel ill. I’ll lie down till the food is ready, if you don’t mind?”
“Of course not. I’ll wake you when it is.”
“Thanks.”
Jon walked back that way without a glance back, wanting to be inside the tent and asleep.
Tormund never lit the incense in their tent again.
***
“When will your heat be coming?”
Jon paused, hands stilling on the white leather of the gloves Tormund had made him, before slipping them the rest of the way on again. He turned to look at Ygritte with a frown. “Why do you want to know? So you can know when to expect me to beg for you knot? Cause I won’t.”
Ygritte snorted, as if she thought otherwise, and leaned back against the mammoth bone holding his and Tormund’s tent together. She shared a tent with two other spearwives -Jon’s pretty sure the two beta women were married together, but he’s heard Ygritte… playing with them, at night- but she always made sure to set up right next to theirs, as if she couldn’t keep away from the omega.
He didn’t know why. Mance hadn’t asked her to guard him, and she owed them nothing. All Jon could assume, was that she wanted him.
He nearly kicked himself. All his life he’s been scoffing every time his father grew concerned about him being around strange alphas - especially southern alphas, who apparently, never cared one way or another about consent… at least, according to old Nan… she seemed to have a lot of stories about alphas that weren’t from the north.
Jon is starting to think that he shouldn’t put so much weight to her stories.
Ygritte snickered though, her hips thrust up just enough for Jon to see the slight bulge in her trousers. He thought about calling her vulgar, but the last time he’d done that, she teased him for a full day about her being too vulgar for this proper little southron omega , and he’d ended up bright red and hiding his face from the other alphas in the camp who laughed at him, till Mance had growled at them.
He still wasn’t happy about any of this, but he was at least thankful for Mance. For the first time since… since his father…
For the first time since Ned Stark’s beheading, Jon almost felt as thought he had a father figure looking out for him.
He’d thought he had that once with Jeor Mormont, but knowing that the man had turned a blind eye to the sacrifice of his alpha and beta children, claiming that he didn’t want anyone that couldn’t breed him children -and what kind of man was that, a man who breed children simply for the idea of taking them as husbands and wives later, it made Jon sick- well… the last time Jon had seen the Lord Commander, he hadn’t been able to look him in the eyes without it breaking something in his chest again.
It felt like that night, he’d woken up, having dreamt of his father’s beheading, knowing , in his heart, that it was no nightmare. It felt like that, all over again. He’d lost something all over again, and he didn’t think he could get it back.
Mance wasn’t a replacement. He knew, he could never replace his father, but Mance felt like a relief even still. He wasn’t exactly sure what for yet.
Ygritte laughed though, looking at him with too bright eyes while Jon sharpened Long Claw. “I don’t mean to ask for myself, Jon Snow. I ask, because you’ve refused the incenses protection. The alphas will be able to smell you loud and clear, and I need to know when me and Tormund need to be on guard so none of them try and have a go at you.”
Jon looked back at the girl with pursed lips. “I thought northern alphas could be trusted?”
She snorted this time, shaking her head. “Have you ever met a Then? I don’t trust them as far as I can throw them, and I haven’t yet met a Then I could pick up. You don’t want one of them to find you while you’re near you’re time.”
Jon turned back to the sword, thinking about how he almost wanted one of them to try, simply so he could use his pretty valarian steel on them. But she was right. He didn’t trust a Then either. The lot of them were all alphas, and he hadn’t seen a female among them yet. Something about them screamed danger to him. His every instinct telling him to run.
The last time one of them had come through their section of the camp, Jon found himself nearly hiding behind Val and Dalla, breath coming a little short as he tried to keep his wits about him and not let them see the fear. He’d been feeling particularly sick that day, head pounding and too faint to walk right.
He’d ended up riding on Tormund’s back for the second half of the day, wrapped around the alpha so he could be carried, dozing on and off as the day went by, warmed by the heated body underneath him and the furs wrapped around his own. Tormund had said he barely weighted enough to even notice it, but Jon had noticed him grunt once when he first picked Jon up, so he’s not sure how true that had been.
Mance strayed towards their little group more and more, the closer they got to it. Jon wasn’t sure why he seemed so worried about Jon, but he’d say that if they were below the Wall, Mance would be nesting; getting ready for his new little one, while trying to make sure everyone in his holdfast had what they needed. It was an omegas work to keep the household, but the closer they came to giving birth, the less the alpha would let them do, out of worry for the baby. Though Dalla was a northron woman, and she wouldn’t be held down by any alpha, -not her husband, and not even her sister,- Mance still wandered, trying to make sure everyone within his purview was well.
Jon thought it was almost amusing. It always made him laugh, to see a mighty alpha, brought low by their own babe.
He shifted once on the log he’d been sitting on, and looked back at her again. “A fortnight, I believe. Not so soon that you can’t leave me my peace, but close enough that you should be on guard, I think.”
Ygritte nodded, and left, going back to helping a spearwife skin an animal that Jon had never seen before, but they seemed to live underground near the caves, with enough meat and pelt to them, to make the kill worth it.
He hoped that Ygritte would at least give him a bit of privacy that Tormund wouldn’t, as his guard. He was starting to feel like Ygritte was trying to nest him as well.