Love beneath the Snow

40| 𝔟𝔢𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔞𝔴𝔫

𝔫𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔣𝔢𝔩𝔩

— THE NIGHT BEFORE THE BATTLE OF THE BASTARDS, THE CAMP WAS STEEPED IN AN ALMOST PALPABLE TENSION. The darkness was pierced only by the faint glow of torches and the distant, muted clamor of preparation. Jon Snow moved through the encampment with grim purpose, his mind clouded by the weight of what lay ahead.

He reached the tent of Melisandre, the warm light spilling from its entrance, a stark contrast to the biting cold outside. The flap of the tent was drawn aside, and Jon stepped in, his breath visible in the chilly air. Melisandre was seated near a small fire, her red robes reflecting the flickering flames in a way that seemed almost ethereal. "Lord Snow," Melisandre greeted, her voice smooth yet imbued with an unsettling calm. "What brings you here so late?" Jon's gaze was intense, his eyes betraying a storm of emotions. "I need answers," he said, his voice taut with frustration. "Why did you bring me back? I should have stayed dead." Melisandre's eyes met his, filled with a depth that hinted at hidden knowledge. "It was not my doing," she replied softly. "It was the will of the Lord of Light."

Jon's frustration flared. "The Lord of Light? What does he want with me? What purpose could there be in this?" She leaned forward slightly, her gaze unwavering. "There are designs beyond our understanding. The Lord of Light has a plan, and you are a part of it. Your life holds meaning that we may not yet fully comprehend." Jon's eyes narrowed, his expression one of bitter disbelief. "I don't want to be a pawn in any grand design. If I die tomorrow, I want to stay dead. I've had enough of being brought back."

Melisandre's expression softened, a rare flicker of compassion in her eyes. "There are still things left for you to do. The threads of fate are not yet fully woven. There are people who need you." Jon's confusion deepened, mingled with a sense of deepening frustration. "What are you not telling me?"

"There is someone whose fate is closely tied to yours," Melisandre said gently, her tone laden with unspoken meaning. "Someone who holds a significant place in your heart." Jon's eyes widened as realization dawned. "Valira? What does she have to do with any of this?" Melisandre's gaze was filled with a mix of sadness and hope. "Her feelings for you are more complex than you might realize. There is love, but it is not as straightforward as you may think." Jon shook his head, a bitter smile playing on his lips. "She doesn't love me anymore. Not after everything that's happened."

Melisandre's eyes softened further, reflecting a sadness that seemed almost personal. "The heart is not so easily defined. Even if she believes otherwise, truth can reveal itself in the most unexpected ways." Jon's frustration bubbled over, his fists clenching at his sides. "If I die tomorrow, I want to stay dead. There's nothing left for me." Melisandre's eyes followed him as he turned to leave. "Remember, Jon Snow, the threads of fate are delicate and intricate. What seems like an end may only be the beginning of a new path."

Jon left the tent, the cold night air a harsh contrast to the warmth he had just departed. His thoughts were turbulent as he walked toward Valira's tent, each step echoing his mounting anxiety. He pushed aside the flap and stepped in, the soft glow of the fire inside casting gentle shadows on Valira's face. She looked up, her expression a mix of surprise and concern. "Jon?"

"I needed to see you," Jon said, his voice heavy with the burden of what he had learned. He moved closer, his gaze locked on hers, searching for a connection that seemed to elude him. "I wanted to talk before... before tomorrow." Valira stood and crossed the space between them, her eyes reflecting a blend of worry and curiosity. "What's on your mind?" Jon took a deep breath, struggling to articulate the whirlwind of thoughts racing through his mind. "I've been thinking about what's coming. If I die tomorrow, I don't want to be brought back. I've seen enough of that."

Valira's eyes widened with a mixture of alarm and sorrow. "Don't say that. You're not going to die. We're going to win this battle." Jon's gaze fell to the ground, his voice barely above a whisper. "It feels like the end. Like I've reached the end of my journey." Valira took his hands in hers, the warmth of her touch a stark contrast to the cold night outside. "You're not at the end. There's still so much to fight for. You can't think like this."

Jon's frustration and desperation surged, and he leaned in, capturing her lips in a brief, urgent kiss. Valira's breath hitched, her eyes wide with shock as she pulled away. "No," she said softly, her voice trembling. "I can't... I'm sorry. Not until Robb is avenged. I need to see justice done before I can allow myself to be with you." Jon's heart sank at her words, the finality of them piercing through his resolve. "Valira..." he said quietly, the weight of resignation evident in his tone.

Valira's gaze remained steady, though her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "You don't understand, do you? It's not just about us. I can't allow myself to be with you until I've done what needs to be done. Robb's death can't go unanswered." Jon's expression hardened with a mix of hurt and acceptance. "So, in the end, I'm just another duty to you? A thing to be put aside until you've fulfilled some obligation?"

Valira's eyes flashed with a blend of anger and regret. "It's not about you being a duty. It's about what's right. I need to honor Robb's memory and see justice done before I can allow myself to move forward." Jon's shoulders slumped, the weight of her words pressing heavily upon him. "I suppose there's nothing more to say. I'll see you in the morning, if there's still a morning to see." Valira watched him as he turned to leave, her face a mask of sorrow and resolve.

Jon stepped out into the cold, his breath misting in the frigid air as he walked back to his own tent. The camp remained eerily quiet, the anticipation of the battle hanging over them like a dark cloud. He lay down on his bedroll, the ground beneath him a stark reminder of the uncertainty and danger that lay ahead. Sleep eluded him, his mind a maelstrom of thoughts about Valira, the coming battle, and the uncertain future.

As the night wore on, Jon's thoughts swirled in a haze of hope, regret, and determination. The silence of the camp seemed to press in on him, and the dawn that would bring the battle felt both distant and imminent.

A/N:
2 CHAPTERS!!! What do you all think?
Love you all!