The Wildling Princess

Chapter 1: Ghost

His unconscious body dragged across the piercing cold snow, leaving it stained with blood. Shortly after he was assassinated his body was thrown out of the gates of Castle Black, followed by the white direwolf. The direwolf continued to drag its master away from the castle, towards the stone house with smoke rising from the top and a peaceful fire flickering inside. The direwolf reached the house about a mile south of Castle Black, sheltered by trees. Dropping the body in the snow, the direwolf clawed at the wooden door, its red eyes glowing in the darkness.

Ever so slowly the door opened to reveal a girl dressed in black, with hooded grey eyes, the colour of Valyrian steel. Her eyes wandered from the white direwolf to the figure in the snow with dark curls, surrounded by a patch of darkened snow. Holding up her woollen dress she ran towards the man, lifting him gently with the help of the direwolf and retreating with him and the direwolf inside. The girl placed the man on the wooden table, gently lifting the pieces of fabric soaked with blood to reveal the countless stab wounds over his muscular torso. His heartbeat faltered, allowing the direwolf to whine in pain. The girl quickly grabbed a bucket of water and a cloth and began to clean the man's wounds revealing his ice cold skin. After what seemed like hours of cleaning up the man's wounds the girl began to bandage his wounds with pieces of fabric taken from dresses she no longer liked or fit into. Tenderly she placed his body on the feathered bed, allowing the direwolf to lie beside its master.

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The man woke to a start, leaning over he began viciously coughing. Holding his bandaged chest he looked up to see a girl rushing towards him, breathing heavily he pushed himself away from her, his eyes wild with fear.

The girl held her hands up as if to get him to stop, "Don't, you'll open your wounds again."

Looking down at his bandaged body, the man's memories began pulsing, reminding him of the betrayal. He was dead, he thought. How was he not dead? He was stabbed countless times, "Who are you? Why am I here?"

"Your brothers of the nights watch turned on you, Jon. Ghost here dragged you to me; I helped heal your wounds." She stepped closer, exposing Ghost behind her, eating a large piece of uncooked meat.

He lay gazing at her small, lithe figure, "How do you know what happened?"

She sighed, her eyes straining, "A few of your brothers came to inform me and the other Wildlings that the Lord Commander, Jon Snow, had deserted the watch. Obviously from what I figured you didn't run off, they tried murder you instead and thought they succeeded."

Jon furrowed his eyebrows, looking the girl up and down, "You're a Wildling?"

"And you're a crow." she replied bluntly.

"You don't look like a wildling."

"I saved your life, don't start insulting me."

Jon scoffed motioning at the girl, "What I mean is that wildlings don't usually wear silk dresses or look so clean."

"Well thanks to you, I now have a home," smiling the girl twirled, looking at her small yet tranquil home.

A stern look settled on Jon as he faced the wildling girl, "Don't thank me yet, it's the reason I should be dead. Most of the watch despise the Wildlings, many of their friends and family have been slaughtered by Wildlings. But winter is coming. If we don't work together, we'll die together."

The girl placed herself on the end of the bed, looking at Jon sadly, "There's nothing you can do now Jon."

"Why?"

"If you go back to Castle Black you'll be killed, even by those who like you. Jon, it looks like you deserted them. You know the punishment for desertion."

Jon leant back, letting the news sink in. With Thorne in charge they would not be able to survive against the white walkers, the wildlings would be slaughtered or sent away. The girl shot Jon a pained look and picked up a bowl beside the various jars of herbs and medicines.

"You need to rest. Here drink this." She held up the bowl of milky liquid to him.

Jon looked down at it, confused, "Milk of the poppy?"

"The pain will get worse otherwise."

Jon took the bowl. His hands were shaky. He raised the bowl up and hastily drank the liquid. He felt his head becoming heavy; he rested his head back on the pillow, staring up at the girl with eyes of Valyrian steel and hair as black as a crow's wings.

"W-what was your name again?" he slurred, feeling himself slowly drifting.

The girl stood up from the bed, taking the empty bowl off sleeping Jon and quietly whispered in his ear, "Evelyn. Evelyn Baratheon."