A Song of Fire & Snow (GOT)(Jon Snow)

Chapter 9: Alarys

~The Road to Winterfell~

The journey north had begun at dawn, the sun just cresting over the mountains of Dorne. Alarys sat astride her horse, leading the small group of guards as they departed from Sunspear. The air was warm, but she knew that it wouldn't last. As they made their way toward the North, the balmy climate would give way to colder, harsher winds—winds that would bite through her skin and chill her bones. She could already feel the faintest hint of a breeze, a reminder of what awaited her the further she ventured from home.

But home—she scoffed at the word as her horse trotted ahead. Dorne had never truly been her home. The fortress where she had grown up had been more like a gilded cage, and Sunspear was little more than a distant memory. Now, she was headed to a land she had only heard stories about, a land ruled by a man she had never met but whose name had reached even the corners of Dorne.

Jon Snow.

The bastard who had risen to be king.

Alarys glanced over her shoulder, her gaze falling on the small group of men who had accompanied her. Four guards, all of them from the fortress where she had spent most of her life. Two of them were seasoned warriors, hardened by years of service. The third was a young man, barely out of boyhood, with eager eyes and a nervous energy that seemed to radiate from him. And then there was the fourth—Jared, a newer recruit who had come to the fortress only a few months prior. He was the one she had taken to her bed the night before they left Sunspear.

He rode a little behind her, his eyes constantly flicking toward her as if expecting something—some acknowledgment, some gesture that she cared for him beyond what had happened between them. But Alarys had made it clear, or at least she thought she had. She was no different from her brother Oberyn in that regard. She enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh, but she had no desire for attachments, no need for love. Her life had been shaped by independence, and that was how she intended to keep it.

As the group rode onward, the older guards—Tomas and Gavril—exchanged glances. They had been with Alarys long enough to understand her nature. They knew that Jared's hopeful looks and the way he trailed after her like a lost puppy would come to nothing.

"You might want to stop staring at her like that," Tomas called out, a grin spreading across his weathered face. "She's not the type to go soft on you just because you warmed her bed."

Gavril chuckled, his deep voice rumbling through the still air. "Poor lad doesn't know what he's in for, does he?" he added, his gaze sliding toward Jared.

Jared's face flushed a deep shade of red, and he quickly looked away from Alarys, focusing instead on the reins in his hands. "I'm not—" he started, but the words died in his throat.

Tomas laughed, shaking his head. "Don't bother denying it. We've all been there once. Thought we were special. But she's like her brother. She'll enjoy your company for a night, maybe two if you're lucky, but don't go thinking you mean more to her than that."

Alarys kept her eyes fixed on the road ahead, pretending not to hear the conversation behind her. In truth, she wasn't interested in the banter. Jared had been a distraction, nothing more. She had no intention of leading him on or allowing him to think there was something more between them. It wasn't cruelty—it was practicality. She had never been one for soft emotions or sentimental attachments, and the life she lived didn't allow for them.

Jared's silence stretched as the older guards continued to joke, their laughter filling the space between the clattering hooves of their horses. After a few moments, Alarys slowed her horse until she was riding beside Jared. She could feel the tension radiating off him, his earlier confidence drained by the mocking of his comrades.