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Another cry from the horn echoed through her ears as she absentmindedly spins her spear around in her hand. Even from the depths of the Godswood, she could hear the warrior cries. All she prayed for was that it wouldn't come any closer. Lacing her hand in Bran's, she glanced at the circle of Ironborn that stood at the ready. Theon and a red-haired girl stood closer, their bows waiting to be drawn.
"There's still time, you know," Bran said, though there was no hope in his voice, "You could protect the women and children in the crypt,"
"You know, there are no more white walkers north of the wall anymore," Driysa hummed with a faint smile, ignoring Bran's words, "We could always escape this Godswoods and go back there,"
"The Night King will follow me, he always will,"
"And that's why I stand here," Driysa said, her face more serious, "To put a spear in the dead man's back,"
Bran squeezed her hand, silent words of love passing between them as they stared out into the night.
Driysa watches as parts of the darkness erupts into light, the faint line of fire protecting the living from the dead. Or, hopefully, the other way around.
"They lit the trench," Theon said, turning towards Driysa and Bran with a pained look, "Bran, I just want you to know... I wish... The things I did-"
"Everything you did brought you where you are now. Where you belong," Bran said softly, glancing at Driysa, "Home,"
Driysa feels a pit in her heart beginning to form, as she stares back at Bran. Placing a kiss on top of his head, she draws away and stands beside Theon.
"I'm going to watch," Bran said, trying to take as much of Driysa in before his sight fades and expands, "Hopefully, I can warn you of anything before it comes,"
Driysa watches as the man she loves disappears from his body, leaving her there to defend him.
A hand reaches for hers. Noticing it is Theon's, the two give one another a comforting squeeze. There's a passing second where the two people, two people from completely different parts of Bran's life, study each other as though they may not meet again.
It only lasted a moment, before Driysa drops his hand and stands at the ready. Ready for war and whatever else dead men can bring their way.
"Stand Guard!" Theon shouts, his voice ringing clear across the small Godswood.
The circle around them ready their bows, preparing to fight a battle with dead men. Driysa glanced back at Bran, his eyes white, as a shudder of anticipation for the incoming army rises in her blood.
