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

Chapter 46: Jon Snow

~Shadows of Fire~

Jon Snow rode at the head of his column, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. The familiar hum of soldiers marching behind him, the clink of armor and the steady thud of boots on the Kingsroad, blended into a dull rhythm in his mind. The once vibrant, green forests of the Riverlands passed by in a blur, the land worn and scarred from years of war. But Jon's thoughts were elsewhere, drifting far from the soldiers under his command and the allies marching with him.

Alarys. His wife. His child.

It was still hard for him to believe. A part of him, the part that had sworn an oath to the Night's Watch so many years ago, had long accepted that he would never have a family of his own. But now, after all this time, the idea of a child—his child—growing inside Alarys was a light in the darkness. And yet, that same light cast long shadows.

Jon's jaw clenched as he rode on, memories of their last night together flooding his mind. He had seen the fear in her eyes when she told him the truth, the unspoken worry that she would lose him to the battle, or worse—to Daenerys. He had sworn to come back to her, and now more than ever, he had to. For her, for their child.

But Daenerys... she was the storm that brewed on the horizon, growing ever darker. As they neared King's Landing, Jon could feel the tension in the air thickening. The fragile hope they had carried of a peaceful surrender had already been shattered the moment Missandei's head had fallen from Cersei's walls.

Jon closed his eyes for a moment, the memory of that horrific moment flashing before him. He could still hear Grey Worm's roar of anguish, still see Daenerys's face contorting with fury. Missandei's death had sealed the fate of this war, and now there was no turning back. King's Landing would burn.

The thought of fire brought Jon back to Varys's words, spoken in hushed urgency before they crossed the Trident. "She's not the queen we thought she was," the spymaster had said. "Her heart is hardening, Jon. She will rule through fire and blood."

Jon had wanted to ignore Varys, to believe in the Daenerys he had once known. But Varys had seen something darker in her, something Jon was beginning to recognize. The execution of Missandei had marked a turning point, and now Daenerys's rage burned hotter than the flames of Drogon.

Jon's gaze flickered back to the road ahead. The forces of the North and their allies—the Northern men, the Arryns, the Dornish, and the remaining Dothraki—marched without opposition toward King's Landing. The Unsullied had already reached the capital, their disciplined ranks now lying in wait for Daenerys's command to strike. But even with their combined strength, Jon couldn't shake the gnawing sense of dread that weighed heavy in his chest.

The soldiers looked to him for guidance, for leadership. He had spent months leading men into battle, giving orders, fighting alongside them. But the decisions ahead were no longer about winning a war. They were about who would sit on the Iron Throne, and what kind of world they would build after the ashes settled.

As they crossed the Trident, Jon signaled to his men that he would be taking another route. He left the command to his most trusted captains, instructing them to continue the march toward King's Landing without him. He needed to return to Dragonstone—there were matters that could no longer be ignored.

Dragonstone's sharp, jagged cliffs loomed over the sea as Jon dismounted his horse. The air was thick with salt, the sky a bruised grey that mirrored his mood. As he walked up the winding path toward the castle, he couldn't shake the foreboding that had settled deep within his bones.

Varys was waiting for him inside the cold, dimly lit chamber. The Master of Whisperers had grown more gaunt in recent weeks, his eyes sunken with sleeplessness. Jon had never fully trusted him, but there was no denying the truth in his words now.