snow and stars| jon snow

xiii: the darkness and its counterpart

Jon had been hearing a voice. It was nearing the end of the two weeks, and he had since sent word back home. His message assured Sansa and Bran that he wasn't being captured, and that Bran should continue holding down Kings Landing while he stayed in Ilta for a bit longer than expected. He had no idea where Arya was, sailing somewhere. But he knew she was happy, not being a lady. Arya was never meant to be a lady, but he hoped that he would visit Sansa at home at least.

   Around the castle, he had been hearing a soft voice, a singing voice. It was smooth and soothing, and oddly familiar. He wandered around the castle, hearing the voice gradually even more every day, singing a mellow tune. He wandered in the dark, down the hall as he followed the voice, and was abruptly stopped by swords at his throat.

   "Who are you?" A man asked, his long blade at Jon's throat. He snapped out of his charmed state and blinked twice.

   "I am King Jon," he started. "Of Westeros and Houses Stark and Targaryen."

   "You may not pass." The same man said, taking his sword out of the range of Jon's throat, but still ready to attack.

"Do you not hear that voic-" he stopped again to listen to it, the feminine voice doing all sorts of runs and tricks, all sounding like a dream. It stopped for a second, and then began again. He could not be the only one to hear her voice. "You have to hear it."

   "Leave now, King of Westeros." A different man said. "Her Grace is having her own time."

"Her Grace?" Jon echoed, his brows furrowing. "She told me that she didn't sing anymore. That's her singing?" Her voice was beautiful, just as beautiful as he imagined it to be, with her speaking voice being as captivating as it was.

"Leave." The men repeated in unison, this time, pointing their swords towards him. They looked at him as if he were the strangest thing, and then he realized that it could have just been in his head. In Westeros, pointing a sword at him under any circumstance would have never been acceptable. He had to realize that just because the Queen of Ilta was a beautiful woman with good intentions, didn't mean that everyone else was the same.

He didn't say a word as he reluctantly left, his feet dragging across the floor quietly as he ripped himself away from Andromeda and her voice, walking until he bumped into a figure. He looked down and saw Ramona, who was already looking back at him with a knowing look. "I'm sorry, Lady Ramona."

"Oh, don't be." She said. "Did you go and see Her Grace?"

"I tried," he said before he could catch his words, embarrassed by the way he openly admitted that he was trying to see the Sky Queen.

"I know." She said, the knowing smile matching perfectly with her words. "I knew you wouldn't be able to stay away from her, and I'm surprised she has." The torch light was making the conversation much more eerie, and she could tell that it was making him feel uncomfortable. "Come with me, we can walk outside."

"It's night," he stated, and he swore that she rolled her eyes.

She started walking anyways. "Yes, and so is she. Does that make you afraid?"

Jon thought for a moment as he subconsciously walked forward with her, and he uncrossed his arms. He shook his head slowly. "I was never truly afraid of her." She's just a little intimidating at first.

"No?" She said, a prying tone emerging. "You were never truly afraid of a woman who could strike you down within an instant, one who could turn you into a constellation burning million miles away for agitating her? You're not afraid of a woman who can tap into the powers of the gods?" She tripped over something on the ground, and muttered something that had to do with a string.