Love beneath the Snow

14| 𝔞 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔡𝔦𝔳𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔡

𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔣𝔢𝔩𝔩, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔫𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔥

— THE MORNING LIGHT FILTERED THROUGH THE HEAVY CURTAINS OF VALIRA'S ROOM, CASTING A MITED GLOW OVER THE FURNISHINGS. Valira lay in bed, her eyes red and puffy from a night of tears. The events of the previous night replayed in her mind like a haunting melody—Jon's cruel words, his rejection, the sting of his slap. She had cried herself to sleep, her heart shattered into countless fragments that seemed too broken to ever be whole again.

As the sun rose higher, Valira finally dragged herself out of bed, the weight of her grief making each movement feel laborious. She moved slowly to her vanity, her reflection showing a face etched with sorrow. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the small velvet box Jon had given her. Inside had been the ring he crafted—its brown and blue stones reflecting the colors of their eyes. Now, the ring was on her finger, a bittersweet reminder of what had been and what could never be.

Valira stared at the ring, tears welling in her eyes. She remembered Jon's words, his promises of love, and how he had meant them in the moment. But now, those promises felt like a cruel mockery. The ring that was once a symbol of hope now felt like an anchor dragging her deeper into despair.

She pulled the ring off her finger, holding it gently as she sobbed. The ring, once a symbol of her dreams and the future she had imagined, now seemed like a heavy burden she could no longer bear. She clutched it tightly, her grief spilling over as she mourned not just the loss of Jon but the loss of the future she had hoped to build with him.

After what felt like an eternity, Valira wiped her tears away, her face streaked with the remnants of her sorrow. She had no more strength left for tears, only the cold determination to leave Winterfell behind and start anew. She had packed her belongings with trembling hands, each item a painful reminder of the happiness she had once hoped to find here.

As she made her way down the stairs, she avoided the common areas of Winterfell, not wanting to see anyone or have anyone see her. She kept her head down, her steps heavy as she moved toward the stables, where her carriage awaited. She hoped that if she could just make it out of Winterfell, she could leave the pain behind and find solace somewhere far away.

The courtyard was bustling with activity as the royal family prepared for their departure. Ned Stark, Sansa, and Arya were all busy with last-minute preparations, their faces set with the determination to start the journey to King's Landing. The presence of so many people made it easier for Valira to slip away unnoticed.

Unbeknownst to her, Jon stood at the window of his own chamber, watching as Valira made her way through the courtyard. His heart ached at the sight of her, each step she took a painful reminder of what he had lost. He had expected her departure, but seeing it with his own eyes brought a new level of anguish.

Jon's decision had solidified overnight. He could no longer remain in Winterfell, not after what had transpired. He felt as though he had no place here, no purpose. His only remaining option was to join the Night's Watch with his uncle, a path that had always been a distant possibility. But now, it seemed like the only escape from the crushing weight of his own regrets.

He watched as Valira climbed into her carriage, her back turned to the world she was leaving behind. The sight of her driving away, the last vestiges of their time together fading into the distance, solidified his resolve. There was nothing for him in Winterfell anymore. The life he had imagined for himself, the future he had hoped to build, had crumbled into dust.

As the carriage disappeared from the view, Jon's mind was set on the journey ahead. The Night's Watch, though a harsh and unforgiving path, offered him a new beginning, a chance to escape the haunting memories of Valira and the pain of his own choices.

He gathered his belongings, the familiar routine of preparation offering him a strange comfort. Each item he packed was a symbol of his decision, a step toward a future that was uncertain but inevitable. His uncle would be leaving soon, and Jon was determined to join him, to find a place where he could disappear from the shadows of his past.

With one last glance at Winterfell, Jon stepped out of his chambers and into the cold morning air, his heart heavy but resolute. The path before him was daunting, but it was the only path left for him now. As he walked toward the stables, the weight of his choices pressed heavily on him, and he knew that the journey ahead would be one of both physical and emotional hardship. But perhaps, in the end, it would be a journey toward redemption—a chance to start anew, far from the pain and heartbreak he was leaving behind.

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The carriage rolled smoothly along the road, its wheels making a steady, rhythmic clatter against the cobblestones. Inside, the atmosphere was a blend of opulence and tension. The plush interior was filled with the soft murmur of conversation and the occasional shift of fabric as the occupants adjusted themselves.

Valira sat by the window, her eyes fixed on the passing landscape, though she scarcely registered the view. The fields and trees outside offered no solace from the storm of emotions raging within her. Her silence was a stark contrast to the usual lively exchanges that filled such journeys.

Sansa Stark, observing her friend's troubled demeanor, turned to Valira with a look of concern. "Valira, you've been so quiet. Is something wrong?" Valira managed a strained smile, her eyes betraying the depth of her sadness. "No, nothing's wrong, Sansa. I'm just tired." Sansa looked at her with a mixture of sympathy and uncertainty, sensing that there was more to Valira's silence but unsure of how to help. She turned back to the window, her thoughts consumed by the sight of the changing scenery.

Across from Valira, Cersei Lannister maintained an air of composed elegance, her gaze fixed on her daughter with a cold, calculating sharpness. The Queen had no regrets about her actions—she saw them as necessary measures to safeguard her family's interests. Cersei's concern was a facade, masking her true intentions and the cold efficiency with which she manipulated events.

"Valira," Cersei said, her voice smooth yet carrying an undertone of authority, "You seem distant. Is there something you wish to talk about?" Valira looked up, meeting her mother's gaze. She didn't know the full extent of Cersei's involvement in her heartbreak; she only felt the weight of her own sorrow. "I'm fine, Mother. Just thinking."

Cersei's expression remained unchanged, her concern purely strategic. She had orchestrated the situation with Jon to maintain control, and Valira's grief was merely a collateral consequence. The Queen's mind was focused on maintaining her power and influence, indifferent to the personal pain she had caused.

The carriage continued its steady journey, the gentle rocking providing a slight comfort amidst the internal struggles of its passengers. Myrcella, nestled close to her mother, sensed the tension but was too young to fully understand its source. Arya, with her keen eyes and perceptive nature, watched the interactions with curiosity and unease.

As the minutes passed, the silence in the carriage grew heavier. The serene exterior of the landscape was a stark contrast to the emotional turbulence within. Valira's quiet sadness, combined with the underlying tension between her mother and the other occupants, created a confined space of unspoken struggles. Each person was absorbed in their own thoughts, the journey becoming a reflection of their internal conflicts as they traveled toward their destination.

A/N:
Well, now what?? This is all ridiculous
But what do you think of this chapter?
Love you all!!