Jon's POV
Fire rushed toward him.
Jon barely had time to react before he threw himself to the side, rolling over the snow as flames roared through the air, scorching the ice where he had been standing just seconds ago.
Not Katrina's fire.
He had seen her fire, had felt its warmth before—golden, wild, untamed.
This fire was cold, controlled, calculated. A sickly twisted version of what Katrina's power should have been.
Because it wasn't her.
Jon landed on his feet, sword raised, his heart pounding.
Arya had already moved, dagger flashing in her hand as she circled Katrina—no, not Katrina.
Reynolds swore, stumbling back, eyes wide as the heat rippled through the air. "Okay, I think we can officially say this is bad."
Jon didn't take his eyes off her.
She was standing just a few feet away, golden eyes flickering in the firelight, her lips curved into a smirk that wasn't hers.
It was his.
Her father's.
Jon's grip on Longclaw tightened. "Let. Her. Go."
The smirk widened.
"Why would I do that?"
Jon's stomach turned.
Because it wasn't her voice anymore.
It was his.
Katrina—not Katrina—tilted her head, watching him like a predator eyeing prey.
"This body is mine now," she said smoothly, golden eyes glinting with something cruel. "She fought. She screamed. But in the end—" A smirk. "She was never strong enough."
Jon's pulse roared in his ears.
That was a lie.
Katrina was the strongest person he had ever known.
But she was trapped.
And Jon had to get her back.
Arya shifted slightly beside him, her expression unreadable. "We taking him out now, or are we trying to be diplomatic?"
Jon didn't move.
Didn't answer.
Because if they killed him now—if they ended him while he was still inside Katrina's body—
Would she die too?
He couldn't risk it.
Jon exhaled sharply, forcing himself to stay calm. "She's still in there."
Arya's gaze flicked to him.
Reynolds hesitated. "You sure?"
Jon nodded once. Firm. Certain.
"Then what the hell do we do?" Reynolds muttered, his voice low.
Jon kept his eyes on her—on him.
"We get him out."
⸻
Katrina's Father's POV (Inside Katrina's Body)
Jon Snow was dangerous.
Not because he was the best warrior. Not because of his name.
But because of her.
Because Katrina loved him.
Because he was the only one who could reach her.
Even now—even now—he felt her fighting.
Deep inside the prison of her own mind, she was still there.
Still screaming.
Still calling for him.
And that—
That was a problem.
Because if Jon reached her, if she fought him from within, then all of this could crumble.
So, it was time to do what he did best.
It was time to break her completely.
⸻
Katrina's POV (Inside Her Mind)
She was drowning.
The darkness wrapped around her like chains, pressing into her mind, smothering her, keeping her trapped.
She felt her body move, but she wasn't the one controlling it.
She felt her lips smirk, but she hadn't chosen to smile.
And Jon—
Jon knew.
He was watching her, his dark eyes burning, his sword raised, waiting.
Jon.
She screamed his name, over and over, slamming her fists against the invisible prison her father had built inside her mind.
"Jon, I'm here!"
"Please!"
"I love you!"
But no matter how loud she screamed, no matter how hard she fought, he couldn't hear her.
Because she was losing.
Because her father was stronger.
Because soon, she wouldn't be anything at all.
And then—
Her father's voice slithered into her prison, smooth and dark.
"Do you see now?"
Katrina gritted her teeth.
"You never had a chance," he whispered. "You were never strong enough."
She burned.
But the flames weren't enough.
Not yet.
Not without—
Her father chuckled. "You can't even say it, can you?"
Katrina shook.
"Say what?" she spat.
"That you need him."
Her chest tightened.
"That you need Jon Snow to save you."
Katrina growled, her fists clenching. "I don't—"
Her father laughed.
"You do."
"And that's why you've already lost."
The darkness pressed in, suffocating, consuming—
And this time, she didn't know if she could fight it.
Not alone.
⸻
Jon's POV
Jon moved.
Fast.
Katrina—not Katrina—raised a hand, fire sparking in her palm, but Jon was already on her, grabbing her wrist, pushing through the flames even as they burned.
She gasped.
Because Jon wasn't letting go.
Because Jon never let go of her.
"Katrina," he said, voice rough, desperate, low.
Her golden eyes flickered.
Just for a second.
And that was all Jon needed.
He knew she was still in there.
He knew she was fighting.
And he wasn't going to let her fight alone.
He tightened his grip, ignoring the pain, the heat, the fire licking at his arms.
"It's me," he murmured. "Come back to me."
Her body shook.
The smirk wavered.
And then—
For just a moment—
Her golden eyes weren't her father's.
They were hers.
Jon's breath caught.
Katrina.
It was her.
And gods, she was crying.
"Jon—"
Her voice broke.
Then—
The shadows exploded.
And everything went black.