DISASTROUS ( Jon Snow )

35

men who play god will die like one.
a myth barely remembered
and their names but a whisper.

-they will burn and burn and burn and then they will be nothing and the world will continue to turn | a.m

__________

"For the last time, Amaris, no!"

The argument between Jon and Amaris had lasted through the night and into the morning. The parley was happening and Amaris, for reasons she thought were obvious, wanted to go. As the rightful queen of Westeros, she thought it to be her duty. Jon, however, believed she had other duties that took greater importance for her.

"You are not allowed to tell me what I can or cannot do, Jon!" Amaris seethed, the fire dancing in her dark eyes. "You are my husband, not my master! I am the queen, it is my duty to the men going into battle for us to be there with them for as many steps as possible."

"What about your duty to our child?" Jon shot back. His face then softened as he approached Amaris. "What if this all goes wrong? What if this is a trap? Amaris... Westeros cannot afford to lose you."

She smiled kindly and pressed her palm to his cheek. Her other hand gripped at his collar.

"Look at me, Jon Snow," she whispered, forcing his eyes to meet hers. "I am not dying today and neither are you. None of us are dying today... I would have seen it. I need to be there today."

"Nothing I say will change your mind?"

"Only if me staying behind would somehow bring back my sister and father."

Relenting, Jon nodded with a small sigh. He pressed his lips to her forehead and picked up a heavy fur cloak. Silently, he wrapped it around her shoulders and tied it tightly. It was heavier than Amaris was used to, but it did not bother her.

"Will you at least stay in the back?" Jon asked as they walked outside.

"Not a chance," Amaris responded.

"If things go bad, Tormund is going to grab you and take you away," Jon told her.

Amaris smiled and nodded, knowing no matter how many times she assured him things would go well that he would still be nervous.

"And will you please, for the love of all that is good, keep quiet?" Jon suddenly requested. "I don't want Ramsay's attention on you."

Amaris decided it would be best not to mention that she was already somewhat acquainted with Ramsay Bolton. She nodded and kissed him on the cheek before mounting her horse.

She and Tormund locked eyes. His wild red hair and large frame had frightened her at first, but now she knew him. She smiled at him and he returned it with a small wink.

The ride to the outskirts Winterfell was long and cold, but Amaris did not complain. It felt nice to actually be moving about for once, rather than staying sheltered within the confines of a tent. They arrived before Ramsay's party, and nerves began to spike within Amaris' stomach as they waited.

She glanced down at the bulky cloak, realizing now that it was not just Jon being kind to gift her one of his cloaks. He wanted to hide her pregnant stomach as much as possible. It was common knowledge that when Robb Stark's wife had been murdered, she had been brutally stabbed over and over again in her pregnant stomach. Amaris frowned, her grip growing incredibly tight on the reins of the horse, her knuckles protruding against the skin.

Ramsay Bolton and his men appeared from the fog, looking as though they were demons sent by an angry god to raze the earth with hellfire and pain.