A Song of Fire & Snow (GOT)(Jon Snow)

Chapter 24: Alarys

~Strength by Touch~

Alarys stood near the large, oak table in the war room, her eyes tracing the map sprawled across it. The flicker of torchlight cast uneven shadows on the parchment, illuminating the cities and strongholds marked with Daenerys's sigils. Her mind, however, was elsewhere. She couldn't shake the feelings that had surfaced after her last encounter with Jon. The intensity of their connection, the way his words had broken down her defenses... She felt tethered to him in a way she hadn't anticipated, and it both excited and unnerved her.

Ser Davos stood to her left, grizzled and calm, a quiet presence amidst the tension that filled the room. Jon was at her right, his gaze fixed on Daenerys, who sat at the head of the table. The Dragon Queen was surrounded by her advisors, Tyrion included, but her usually composed demeanor had cracked. News of recent events had come in waves, and now the storm seemed to have fully arrived.

Daenerys's voice was strained as she read the message aloud. "We have lost Casterly Rock. Highgarden as well."

Alarys saw the flicker of frustration cross the queen's face, the fire in her eyes intensifying as she crushed the missive in her hand. Her silver hair caught the torchlight, shining like molten metal as her hands gripped the edge of the table. It was clear that these losses, one after the other, were weighing heavily on her. The Targaryen fire burned, eager to be unleashed.

"I am done with these endless defeats!" Daenerys exclaimed, her voice cracking through the room like a whip. "Perhaps it's time I take matters into my own hands. My dragons can melt the Red Keep to the ground—end this war in one stroke!"

The room fell into a tense silence. Alarys glanced at Jon from the corner of her eye, sensing his unease. He was careful, measured. Always weighing his words before speaking. But she knew what he thought. He had shared his concerns with her in private, the weight of his responsibilities, the looming threat of the dead.

Tyrion stepped forward, his tone cautious, though his expression betrayed his own worry. "Your Grace, I urge you to reconsider. Burning King's Landing will bring you the throne, yes, but at what cost? You would become the very thing you've fought against—another tyrant, ruling through fear and fire."

Daenerys's eyes flicked toward him, but her frustration boiled over. "Enough with your careful words, Tyrion. How many times must I be told to wait, to plan, while my enemies grow stronger? I have dragons—why am I not using them?"

Her gaze then shifted, settling on Jon. Alarys saw the intensity in her violet eyes as she asked, "What do you think, Jon Snow?"

Alarys could feel the tension tighten in Jon, his shoulders stiffening as all eyes fell on him. He hesitated for just a moment, his brow furrowed in thought, before he spoke.

"When I first heard stories of dragons as a boy, I never imagined I would live to see them again," Jon began, his voice calm but firm. "But then I saw you. I saw your dragons. People follow you because you have done what was thought impossible. You've brought the world something it hasn't seen in centuries."

He stepped forward, the weight of his words filling the room. "But if you use them to melt castles and burn cities, you will be just like the rulers who came before you. They'll fear you, yes, but they won't follow you willingly. You'll be no different than those who took power through cruelty and fear."

Daenerys looked as though she wanted to argue, but Jon's gaze held hers, unyielding. Alarys watched the conflict play out in the queen's eyes—her desire for victory battling against her ideals of being a different kind of ruler. Alarys felt Jon's words resonate deeply within her. Daenerys was at a crossroads, and she, too, needed to be reminded of the cost of her choices.

Alarys took a breath and added softly, "Blasting King's Landing to the ground might give you the kingdom, but you wouldn't have anyone left to rule. You'd destroy the very people you want to save."

Daenerys's gaze flicked to her, a brief moment of contemplation crossing her face, though the fire hadn't entirely left her eyes. There was a crackling silence in the air, tension thick enough to cut through. But then Daenerys said nothing more on the matter. She simply turned, deep in thought, and the conversation shifted to other strategies.

The meeting concluded not long after, with Jon visibly restless. He excused himself and left the war room, only to find himself face-to-face with Theon Greyjoy.

Alarys, still trailing behind Jon, observed the interaction carefully. Theon looked different than she had imagined—a shell of the man he once was, battered and broken by the horrors he had endured under Ramsay Bolton. His face was pale, his eyes filled with a hollow emptiness. She didn't recognize him, though she had heard the stories.

"Theon," Jon said, his voice low and cautious, barely masking the tension between them.

Theon stood there awkwardly, fidgeting with his hands as if unsure whether to stay or run. "Is... is Sansa all right?"

Jon's jaw clenched, the muscles working beneath his skin. "What you did for her," he said, his voice measured and cold, "is the only reason you're still alive."

Alarys felt the air grow thick with tension, the weight of Jon's anger barely contained. She saw the way Theon flinched at Jon's words, a man so thoroughly broken that he hardly knew how to defend himself anymore. As Jon's fury seemed to build, his fists clenching at his sides, Alarys instinctively stepped forward, her hand gently finding his shoulder.

"Jon," she whispered softly, her touch a tether pulling him back from the edge.

He blinked, his dark eyes shifting from Theon to her, the anger slowly ebbing as he focused on her presence. Without another word, Jon turned away from Theon and took Alarys's hand in his, their fingers intertwining as he led her out of the room.

It was a quiet, powerful gesture—one that did not go unnoticed by those still lingering in the war room. Tyrion and Ser Davos exchanged glances, and even Daenerys, from her place near the map, watched them with a curious expression.

Alarys followed Jon out into the corridor, their footsteps echoing in the silence. Her heart pounded in her chest, not because of what had just happened with Theon, but because of the way Jon had taken her hand so confidently, so openly.

They walked in silence for a while, the tension between them shifting into something else, something unspoken but undeniable.