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

Chapter 54: Jon Snow

~The Weight of Choice~

Jon sat in his cell, the cold stone walls closing in on him like a vice. The flickering torchlight cast eerie shadows, making the space feel even more confining. It was strange to think that just days ago, he had been at the heart of the battle for the Iron Throne. Now, he was a prisoner, stripped of his title, his choices reduced to whispers in the dark.

When the door creaked open, Jon looked up, squinting against the light. Tyrion stepped inside, his face drawn and serious.

"Jon," he said, his tone somber. "I have news."

Jon's heart sank. "I assume it's bad."

Tyrion nodded, his expression grave. "You are to be exiled from Westeros."

Jon felt a rush of confusion. "Exiled? To where?"

"Bran did not specify," Tyrion replied. "But you won't be sent North. There still needs to be a refuge for bastards and broken men. The Night's Watch continues to exist, in name at least."

A bitter laugh escaped Jon's lips. "The Night's Watch? After everything I've done, they still see me as a bastard?"

"Jon, it's not like that," Tyrion said, stepping closer. "You're being sent away to ensure peace. It's better than facing the Unsullied's wrath."

Jon's brow furrowed. "But what about Alarys? What about my child?" The thought twisted in his gut, a painful reminder of what he was losing.

"I wish I could say more," Tyrion continued, his voice laced with sympathy. "But you need to focus on what comes next. You'll have a chance to start anew."

"A chance? Or just another prison?" Jon retorted, anger bubbling within him.

Tyrion took a deep breath. "You did what you believed was right, Jon. And I'll stand by that. But you must understand the consequences of your actions."

Jon's mind raced back to the moment he had plunged a dagger into Daenerys's back. The image haunted him, a shadow lurking in the corners of his mind. "Did I do the right thing?" he asked quietly, pain etched across his features.

Tyrion hesitated, his gaze softening. "Ask me again in ten years. Perhaps then you'll have a clearer answer."

Jon swallowed hard, the weight of his choices settling heavily upon him. "I don't think we'll meet again," he replied, the finality of it stinging in his chest.

"Don't be so sure," Tyrion said, forcing a wry smile. "You may find that exile isn't as isolating as it seems. Maybe you'll want to take a piss off the top of the Wall after a few years."

Jon chuckled softly, but it quickly faded. "And you know where I'm being sent, don't you?"

"I do," Tyrion admitted. "But it's not my place to reveal it. You'll learn soon enough."

Jon nodded, accepting the reality of his fate. The walls of his prison had closed in, and the life he had fought for slipped through his fingers like sand. But in the depths of despair, he clung to one glimmer of hope: Alarys and their unborn child.

Tyrion's expression turned serious again. "Whatever happens next, know that you are not alone. You have people who care about you, even if it seems like the world has turned against you."

"Thank you," Jon said, his voice barely above a whisper.

With that, Tyrion left, and Jon was left to grapple with his thoughts in the oppressive silence of his cell. He had sacrificed everything for love, and now he faced the consequences. As he leaned against the cold stone wall, he closed his eyes, picturing Alarys's face, her laughter, and the life they had dreamed of together.

In the shadows, hope flickered like a candle in the dark, a reminder that even in exile, there was still a chance for redemption and a future worth fighting for.