𝐻𝐸𝑅𝑂𝑖𝑁𝐸 | 𝐽𝑜𝑛 𝑆𝑛𝑜𝑤

fifteen.

"𝙄𝙩𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙮 𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙣. 𝙄𝙩𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙣."

Ashara woke up early that morning. She found herself curled up in Jon's bed, with him on the other side. He was still fast asleep; it was still dark outside. Slowly making her way out of Jon's tent, she turned and looked at him, snoring lightly. His curls fell over his head, unlike his usual style of it being pulled behind his head. His mouth was open ever so slightly, making his lips pout. The cold made his cheeks slightly redder, contrasting against his already pale skin.

She could stare at him all day, but there was a battle to be won. She could act on her feelings once they had won, but duty called on that frosty morning. Ashara was the first one to wake, making her way back to her tent. She needed to pick up her sword and remove her cloak.

Once these tasks were done, it was time for business. Men started to stir all over camp as the sun rose, and she saw other commanders jumping around the tents, gathering men and their equipment. Jon was surveying the camp, having his last few moments of peace, but he only wished they were with Ashara.

He saw her strutting around camp, shouting at men, barking orders whilst on top of her horse. He remembered last night vividly. He could still feel her soft hands in his hair, massaging his scalp, easing the tension. He could remember the sounds of her humming, her sweet voice stuck in his ears.

Jon wanted to stay in that bed forever. It was the best night's sleep he had had since the Red Woman brought him back. He knew it was improper for him to feel these things for Ashara, but he couldn't stop himself.

The two were soon leading the line in front of Jon's men. He had amassed a surprisingly large number of men to fight in his battle with him. They stood proudly behind him as they waited to see Ramsays army emerge from over the hill.

Jon spotted Winterfell over the barren lands. It gave him a sense of warmth, knowing that he could be inside those walls once again, feeling the smooth brick under his fingers. He longed to walk the castle walls once again. Only if he could do it with his father one more time.

Seeing Winterfell also made Ashara feel warm. It was a place that she had loved growing up in under Roose Bolton. He felt like a father to her. But the sight of those towers also made a shiver run down her spine. She remembered the time she spent there under the rule of Ramsay. He turned her into a psychotic and emotionless doll. Since leaving she had felt herself becoming more herself again. She can remember what it was like to smile, and also what it felt like to cry.

They were both removed from their thoughts when they saw Ramsay and his bannermen appear from over the hill, with young Rickon in tow behind the horse. Ashara saw Jon sit up straighter than he already was, and heard him take a sharp intake of breath.

Ashara looked at him worriedly as Ramsay untied him and pushed him forward, telling him to run. His legs carried him las fast as they could over the grass. He kept looking forward as arrows were flying over his head, landing inches from the young man.

Jon was already seeing red. He couldn't bear to see another family member die. He had to save his littlest brother. Shouting at his horse, he powered forward, pushing the steed into the fastest gallop it could muster.

"Jon it's a trap! Do not go to him!" Ashara screamed to the man running away from his line. Ashara knew Ramsays game, and she knew he was doing it to get a rise out of Jon, and that is exactly what he got.

Jon's horse carried him over the field, with Rickon running towards him. They were meters away from each other, almost touching fingertips, when Ramsays arrow soared through the air, penetrating through Rickon's pale skin. The arrow came out through his chest, blood pouring from the edges of the wound.

Ashara's breath caught in her throat. She watched the boys lifeless body drop to the ground, his legs giving way, his eyes rolling back in his head. Her heart immediately ached for Jon. He had lost another brother.

They didn't have time to grieve, Ramsay was already having his men charge forwards, thousands of them coming towards Jon. It was him versus them all. Ashara couldn't bear the pain she felt in her chest. She wished to wake up from this nightmare she seemed to be living.

Finally catching her breath, she breathed deeply. She needed to be strong for Jon, and for the men she needed to lead.

"Don't let your king fall! Fight for your king! Die for your king! Charge for your king! Now!" Ashara screamed with everything she had. Her voiced echoed through the field, her bellowing voice reaching all the men Jon had. They replied to her with ear bursting screams, following her as she powered forward on her horse, whilst Jon stood still in the middle of the field.

Her horse carried her forward, its long legs striding out in front of itself. Clasping onto the handle of her sword, she released it from its sheath, letting the steel be kissed by the sun that was trying to break through the clouds. Jon hadn't moved an inch since she left her spot, he was rooted to the ground. He stood with his sword, ready for action. The amount of men running towards him was staggering, but Ashara only saw Jon, and the danger he had put himself in.

Her first kill was a brutal one. Her sword plunged right through the man's neck, causing blood to cascade out of his hands, where he was holding his gaping wound. His eyes went wide, whilst Ashara's shut in pleasure. Her mouth formed a sadistic smile as he fell to the ground whilst she sat highly on her horse.

Jon saw this happen. The woman he had grown so fond of had become a monster on the battlefield. He didn't know if he should be afraid of her, or if he should be amazed by her ability.

They both continued to swing their swords, cutting and dicing men over the field. Ashara was currently taking on two guys, both men she recognised from her time with the Bolton's. They also recognised her, but that wasn't hard.

Ashara swung her sword over her head, splitting one of the guys head in half. His skull caved in on itself, as did the rest of his body. With the other man stunned, she killed him by twirling her round with her free hand, and slicing his neck, the steel cutting the skin deeply.

She hadn't noticed, but Jon had noticed how close his men were getting to each other. There were bodies piling up on either side of him, a mix of his men and Bolton men. He grimaced as he climbed the bodies, to get to a vantage point. The limp and lifeless bodies held his weight as he surveyed the situation around him.

Bolton men with spears and shields had surrounded the still living Stark men. They were slowly walking forwards, making the circle smaller and smaller. Jon's breath got caught in his throat. He knew their plan, and felt stupid for falling into it.

Cascading down the bodies, Jon had to find his commander across the field.

Ashara was still putting men to the floor when she felt a sharp tug on her elbow. With her sword ready, she quickly turned around, only to be met with her favourite brown eyes.

"Ashara, climb to the top of the bodies over there. Bolton is pushing us in. We need to stay on top, we can't let our men suffocate like this." He spoke, whilst bouncing over to the pile of bodies he pointed at. For the first time in a while, she looked at her surroundings. There weren't many Bolton bodies left, but she saw plenty of their shields around them, causing her to panic slightly.

She followed Jon to the top of the bodies, taking in the sight before her.

Ashara entwined her fingers with Jon's, not caring who saw. This could be the last time she feels his skin on hers, and it wasn't a feeling she wanted to forget.

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I wanna give a shout out to SadBlackVegan, always showing love on my chapters, i appreciate you and everyone else who reads this ❤️