DISASTROUS ( Jon Snow )

39

today i was an electric girl, coursing with power, hair on end, coursing with victory as she waltzed a godsend;

-d.x.y

__________

Amaris was completely, utterly content. For the first time in what seemed to be ages, she was surrounded by peace. Of course, no one was ignoring the wars ahead... but regaining Winterfell put everyone in an amiable mood. Amaris spent her days constructing her small council and attempting to find the people best suited to assist her in ruling, or she spent her time with Sansa and Rickon or Melisandre. Jon was just as busy during the day, as he learned the ways of ruling over a castle of lords and ladies and soldiers.

Night was Amaris' favorite time, bringing in the best moments. At night, it was just her and Jon curled together in their bed, a fire roaring opposite them. They devoured each other over and over again until they fell asleep, exhausted from everything.

As days passed, Amaris' stomach grew. The maester left over from Ramsay's reign of Winterfell, Maester Baron, told her that it would not be long before she gave birth. Two full moon cycles at most, he said to her.

It had been four days of bliss, but, naturally, balance had to be restored in the world. And that balance was delivered by Davos, clutching a charred, wooden object in his hand. Just prior to Davos' interruption, however, Melisandre, Jon, and Amaris were standing in Winterfell's great hall.

Jon and Melisandre were conversing about something, though Amaris paid them no mind. Instead, she stood at one of the windows and looked outside. Snow was falling heavily, coating the earth in white. She thought back to when she first came to Winterfell, when she was young and foolish and had allowed herself to fall in love with the bastard son of a Great Lord.

So much had changed since then. She was no longer the naïve girl who kissed Jon Snow in the stables or the library, and he was no longer the boy that joined the Night's Watch. Too many things had happened to them. Loss had cut too deep for them to ever fully, completely recover.

Amaris longed to go back to the day when Robb Stark was delivering letters for her and Jon. She longed for the days of youth and innocence and bliss.

Amaris' wistful reminiscing was cut short by Davos storming in. Amaris smiled at the man, but that smile was soon wiped away when she saw how angry he looked. Davos stopped in front of Melisandre and tossed something at her. Curiously, Amaris moved closer to Jon so that she might get a better look.

Her heart dropped into her abdomen when she saw the object: a charred, wooden stag. Shireen's stag.

Jon was looking at her, seeing the utterly distraught expression on his wife's face, noting the tears in her eyes. Amaris squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her hands to her pregnant belly.

"What is that?" Jon asked.

"Tell him," Davos said angrily, glaring at Melisandre. "Tell him who it belonged to."

"The Princess Shireen," Melisandre said in a resigned voice.

A strangled moan escaped Amaris' lips.

"Tell him what you did to her. Tell her sister what you did to her," Davos demanded.

"We burned her at the stake," Melisandre admitted.

A cry like Jon had never before heard came out of Amaris. She looked as if she had just been stabbed with a hot blade. Amaris was doing her best to keep in her tears as she looked at Melisandre, her closest friend and confidant. Turning away from the others, Amaris approached the window once more.

She could not breathe. The world was closing in on her.

We burned her... Melisandre's choice of words had not gone unnoticed by Amaris. We... we as in Melisandre and Stannis. Stannis... Shireen and Amaris' father. Stannis the King, the Father, the Cold, the Chosen One burned his daughter at the stake.