The Wildling Princess

Chapter 3: Iron Queen

Jon stared at himself in the dusty mirror beside the bed; his dishevelled, dark ringlets shadowed his face making his pale skin almost deathlike. Weeks had past, and yet Jon was no closer to the vengeance he seeks. The faded scars were weak reminders of the betrayal, each one almost a perfect diamond shape around the size of a coin, although the wound on his chest near his heart left the biggest scar. How was he not dead ? He thought to himself, he had felt himself dying. He died. Turning around Jon saw his answer, the Wildling girl. She lay there wrapped in woollen blankets, her dark hair spread out, creating a crown around her. Even while sleeping, she looks like a deadly goddess, an iron Queen.

Stirring, Evelyn opened her eyes blearily, looking up a Jon from the bed, her hair now a wild tangled mess. She gave Jon a weak smile before grabbing her gown and wrapping it around herself, briefly exposing a birthmark on the back of her shoulder roughly the shape of the Iron islands. Standing up, Evelyn drifted towards the area where she kept her herbs and food, opening up numerous draws and cupboards. Jon swiftly grabbed his shirt from the bed and tugged it over his head; he no longer felt any pain from his previous wounds. It had been almost a month and a half since Ghost dragged him to Evelyn's door; soon they would be able to finally escape the North's cold, hard grip.

Evelyn swore under her breath, "Jon?" she leant herself against the small, wooden table tucked in the corner with the kitchen, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

"What?" his voice croaked.

A small sigh escaped her mouth, "We can't stay here any longer. There are only scraps of food left and there are near to no animals to hunt."

"When do we leave then?" Jon asked knowingly, without food they wouldn't last more than two days in the extreme frozen North.

Leaning further forward on the table, Evelyn began evaluating their options. If they left right away they would most likely be spotted by the Wildling guards issued by the Nights Watch to keep order in the newly sprung up Wildling villages, and with the reward for Jon's head high, they would be dead within the hour. If they left when the sun was setting there is a possibility they would lose paths making them stranded. "At nightfall, at least then there's less chance of people seeing us." Evelyn decided.

Nodding in agreement Jon pressed on with his next question, "Are we taking the Kings Road to Kings Landing?"

"No, we'll stay by it until we reach Winterfell. At Winterfell we can steal a cart so we look like we're travelling to Kings Landing to sell at the markets; it means the gold cloaks are less likely to question us." She said confidently, plucking her herbs from their shelves and shoving them in a leather satchel.

Jon scoffed, "I think the gold cloaks are likely to question anyone travelling with a direwolf."

Evelyn knew Jon wouldn't be able to leave Ghost behind, if it weren't for the direwolf he would most likely be dead, "Before we reach Winterfell then cover Ghost in mud so he doesn't stand out as much, once we get a cart we can hide him there."

Through the window Jon could see Ghost barely visible amongst the white powder, pounding in the snow, his red eyes glowing in the morning sun. "Since when did you plan all this?"

Smiling, Evelyn looked up from stuffing books in her satchel, "For a while now, you just helped speed it up, along with the approaching winter."

Nodding Jon surveyed the old cabin, big enough for just one person. A makeshift kitchen stood in one corner along with a fireplace; whilst a fur covered bed presided in the centre. In the opposite side of the kitchen stood a wall draped with weapons; three swords coated in gold leant against the wall, above several valerian steel daggers hung, along with a spike, pike, feather staff, bayonet, whip, three maces, and two bows littered on the floor. "Where did you get all these from?" asked Jon staring up at the soft leather bags filled with arrows dangling from hooks.

"In return for healing, the Free Folk pay me with whatever they can trade with, weapons being the most common ." Evelyn gestured to the glinting pile of sharp iron, "So I just put them over there, we'll take a few daggers, two swords and my bow with us for the journey. Any more will create suspicion."

Nodding weakly, Jon reached for one of the swords, feeling its cold metal in his palm once again causing him to ache for Longclaw, his sword. Stolen from him at Castle Black by his Brothers and now is probably clutched in the hands of Alliser Throne, leaving him with nothing but Ghost and the clothes he came in. "I can help you pack since I don't have anything of my own." He said, letting the cold steel fall back against the wall.

Evelyn contemplated for a second before pointing towards the end of bed, "Could you perhaps pull my dresses out from the chest over there, since there won't be enough room to bring them all?"

Jon lifted open the wooden chest with golden hinges at the end of the bed revealing layers upon layers of dresses. He threw the first few woollen dresses on the bed, picking up one that lay on top with the Karstarks sigil woven on the front, a white sun on a black background. Even for Jon who was never the embroidery type knew that this was no commoners dress, it was something like his half-sister Sansa would wear back at Winterfell. Lifting up the dress Jon turned to Evelyn, "Most Lords don't give their servants fancy dresses like this one with their sigil on it."

"Well," she started, searching for inspiration on her satchel full of herbs, "as I said before Lord Karstark was very generous."

Jon scoffed, laying the dress back on the bed, "Do you know what my brother did to him?"

"I heard rumours." Her voice was soft, fearful.

"He cut off his head for disobeying him." Jon said bluntly.

"How lovely," Evelyn raised her eyebrows, smiling in disgust.

Jon pressed the subject further, "Is that why you left? Because your generous Lord was gone?"

Evelyn gritted her teeth, "No I left before then, around the time of King Roberts and your father's death."

"Why then?"

She smiled sarcastically, grabbing three more dresses from the chest and stuffing them in another trunk, "Because I prefer my head to be connected to my shoulders."

Jon stood up, directly looking down at the girl, her figure shaped like a perfect arrow, "So fighting in Mance Rayders army was a safer option then?"

Her valerian steel eyes dug into Jon's demanding respect, "I lived beyond the wall and healed those who could give me something in return. I don't fight wars I know I can't win."

Authors note:

Thank you for reading! I have big plans for this story!!

The next chapter should be very interesting and exciting so stay tuned!

Will update soon! Please comment, rate and follow!

Love you all :*