BLOODLINES ↠ JON SNOW

XXVI. GLORY

"They'll trust you now." Amodera began softly, her voice quiet yet fierce as she guided them through the gates of Winterfell. "You've given everything, just as they have."

Amodera halted the horse as they reached the majority of the survivors, climbing from the horse before helping Daenerys down also. As people began to gather in the courtyard, Amodera's gaze fell upon Jon, who came rushing over -- Bran and Arya following behind. "What happened?"

"Ser Jorah." Amodera stated, her voice sombre enough for him to know the truth. Jon gifted Daenerys a look of sorrow; the night's toll growing heavier by the second. They had lost so much in those few, life-changing hours, and yet so many still lived. Stories would be told for generations about those who had died defending the North, defending Westeros, and defending the Living.

《》

Blood still stained Amodera's olive skin as Jon bandaged her cuts -- a mask that sat upon the true problems they faced. Problems within; problems of the guilt of surviving while their friends had given their lives. They knew better than to waste the opportunity they had been given, and yet the piles of corpses outside Winterfell grew larger by the minute. Still, Amodera couldn't help but bask in the glory of feeling safe again. Of not having to fear that she would lose Jon, if only for a moment. It was a feeling she treasured whenever it presented itself.

A knock sounded at the pair's thick mahogany door, to which Amodera gave a foul glare. She had wished for them to not be disturbed for as long as possible, but her prayers were never heard. "Enter."

The door opened with a groan to reveal the young Targaryen queen, clad in a fresh black gown. However she dressed herself up, she could not hide the grief in her eyes, or the redness upon her tear-stained skin. Everyone had lost something to the Long Night.

Amodera stood, taking the bandage from Jon's hands. "I'll let you two speak in private." She stated, beginning to walk away when Daenerys grabbed her arm to stop her.

"Actually, I'm here to speak to you."

Amodera couldn't help the surprise that invaded her face at the queen's words. The two were not close, but it seemed their shares moment of grief the previous night had connected them in more ways than one.

Jon stood, leaning across and kissing Amodera's cheek. "I'll check on the survivors." He stated calmly, before walking past the two of them and closing the door behind him.

Amodera sat down once again, fumbling wuth the kast of her bandages before leant down beside her. "Let me." She said, nimble fingers  tying the cloth around the fresh wounds with ease, before she took a seat opposite the young Commander. "I wanted to say thank you. For helping me with...Ser Jorah."

Amodera nodded slowly, her gaze following the queen's every move. "He was a good man. He died with honour."

Daenerys bit the inside of her cheek, attempting to hold back any emotion as she looked to the floor to compose herself. As her gaze fell upon Amodera again, her sadness was replaced with hesitation. "I suppose Jon told you.. "

"He did." Amodera paused, watching her like a hawk. "I told him not to tell you."

"Perhaps he should've listened." Daenerys replied, smiling slightlg before reaching across and taking Amodera's calloused hands in her own. "I know you don't trust me, but I swear to you that I will not harm Jon, as long as he doesn't harm me."

Amodera looked across at her with an intense gaze, as if wishing to seek out every truth within the young woman. "He won't. Jon never wanted to rule, not in the way you do."

"It's not always about what we want."

The young Commander laughed slightly. "I think for you it is." She began, her tone lighter as she felt the threat Daenerys had posed disappearing with the seconds that passed. "I've fought many wars, and I've never seen someone with as much commitment as you. We may not be close, but you're strong. You can be a good queen." Amodera paused, before offering the young woman a slight smile. "I'm sure the dragons help."

Daenerys mimicked her smile, squeezing Amodera's hand softly as she met her gaze. "Well, if it's any consolation, I think you have the heart of a dragon. I'm sure I'll be needing it soon."

Amodera chewed over the words, debating her decision. Part of her truly believed in this queen, but the other half, the half born of the Free Folk, told her never to trust a stranger. "If you keep your word to not harm Jon, then my sword is yours, for as long as you need." Amodera stated, her words honest and true. "Wars are fought every day in this world. To win them, you need more than strength. I've survived this long through many battles, as have you. I think that makes us qualified."

《》

The stench of mud and death lingered upon the air; a reminder of all they'd lost. Bodies piled high beyond the walls of Winterfell -- Dothraki, Unsullied, Northmen, Free Folk. They had all perished in service of something greater and they would not be forgotten.
As people returned from saying farewell to their fallen allies, Jon walked forward to address the crowd of survivors as Warden of the North.

"We're here to say goodbye to our brothers and sisters, to our fathers and mothers. To our friends -- our fellow men and women who set aside their differences to fight together and die together, so that others might live." He began, glancing across the fields that had, just hours ago, been consumed by a raging battle. "Everyone in this world owes them a debt that can never be repaid. It is our duty and our honour to keep them alive in memory for as long as men draw breathe. They were the shield that guarded the realms of men, and we shall never see their light again."

Jon turned, nodding to Amodera. The Wildling Commander stepped forward, passing him a torch before taking one for herself. They walked towards the bodies alongside their allies, lifting their torches to light the wood. Flames licked at the bodies of their fallen friends, sending them back to the world from which they'd come.

As the smell of burning flesh filled the air, Amodera stepped back, allowing her mind to wonder to the future. They'd defeated the enemy; the most dangerous one, at least. But there was more to come. The young woman turned to her husband as he stepped back beside her. "The dead are gone, Jon." Amodera began, talking his hand in her own. "The living are hungry."

《》

AUTHOR'S NOTE;
Am I ever going to stop using Lexa quotes for Amodera? Hell no XD

Sorry this chapter is a bit later up than it should've been, but I hope you like it anyway! The next chapter will also be about the rest of 8x04, so I probably won't get to 8x05 till late next week c:

What did you think of this chapter? It's mostly just talking and all that, but I wanted to have a bit more communication between Amodera and Dany c: Thanks for reading! - CAT ♡