𝙿 𝙻 𝙾 𝚃 𝚃 𝙴 𝙳 || @strklings
the castle had been silent for days; from the moment the dead had fallen and the war had been won, the sun rising in the east and the winds of winter halting to a final stop. THEY WERE ALIVE, but each had lost so many. the air was thick with loss, quiet sobs stifling in every corner of winterfell. THE GREAT WAR HAD BEEN WON AND NOW IT WAS TIME TO WIN THE LAST WAR; the war against the lannisters, or more specifically, cersei. daenerys had proclaimed herself as the rightful heir to the iron throne before the war, and yet even days after the dead had been lay for their eternal rest, the two had hardly spoken. in fact, jon had hardly spoken to anyone at all. his time had been evenly spread across morning the men, the BROTHERS, that he had lost ——— and his own siblings. they had wondered through the halls of the castle that had been their childhood home, through the crypts of which their family had been lay to rest and had once more risen, trying to piece together what once was. the damaged seemed on the verge of irreparable, but no one had quite gathered the heart to admit it.
now, he sat by the fireplace, tankard of ale in hand, chestnut gaze fixated on the flames. THE FLAMES. the same orange glow that had lit the arakh of the dothraki before they had ridden into the night and gave up their lives for the living. the same orange glow that had engulfed huge chunks of winterfell, that had burned from the mouth of rhaegal and drogon and killed thousands of wights. the same orange glow that the red lady had once looked upon and claimed to see SOME BIGGER PURPOSE for jon snow. what bigger purpose was that? killing a few hundred wights? hardly being able to protect his men? or perhaps it had nothing to do with the great war. perhaps it had something to do with what sam had told him in the crypts just two nights before the dead had arrived.
chocolate hues only teared away from the flames when jon had heard footsteps approaching; they fell upon ser davos, walking directly toward him. a sigh escaped chapped lips, tankard finding it’s way to the table. the two had barely spoken in the days past, preoccupied with bigger tasks at hand. and if truth be told, jon had been avoiding almost everybody, unsure of what to say or how to say it.
