✓ | POOR JUDGMENT (A.FORRESTER)

The Wall. Chapter Five.

  At first it was like waiting for the other shoe to drop. A joke with a punchline yet to be revealed. But the continuously expanding amount of time Cynthia waited for it to be announced false, proved it was just another fantasy she'd formulated to protect herself from the reality. Ethan. Her little brother, or at least the closest thing she had to one. How it had happened was beside her, but all she could think of was how she'd missed it. How she hadn't been there when it had happened. She should've saved him, protected him like she always had. If not Asher, then she'd just as eagerly have stood at his guard when he needed help, or saving, when he was younger. But now she'd failed him, she'd left in his time of need and look what it had done. She'd been through Rodrik's 'Lord' training, and could have easily aided Ethan in his lordship, but it appeared that had been cut short at the hand of a bastard. Ramsay fucking Snow! He'd cut her little brother down in one swift moment, one that she would never be able to stop thinking of. She dreamt about it, thought about it, imagined it. How Ethan, her baby brother, had been so brutally killed with a knife to the throat. She could still see him now, as a baby, him and Talia. Mira and Cynthia had been so excited they'd sewn little tags with the Twins' names on them; the boys had bribed the blacksmith to make chains in which they could attach the tags to, and give to the Twins as jewellery. It had worked perfectly, and to this day Cynthia believed they'd both kept them. Though now, thinking over what the letter had read, that memory only brought more pain and anger.

The letter had arrived the day before they arrived at the Wall, and no matter how much Cynthia had been previously excited about visiting the remarkable ice-sculpture, it all seemed rather dull and grey now. The only colourful light coming from the fires burning atop the magnificent structure, which towered over the settlement known as Castle Black; a dark and gloomy building that had now come into view. Cynthia and Duncan were but an hour away from arriving in the dingy fort, and it was now that Cynthia realised who awaited her on the other side of the gate. Yes, Gared would be there and she was thrilled to be seeing him again. But there was someone else. Someone whom she hadn't seen since she was about thirteen. Jon Snow. Another out of place member of his family. They'd first met at the age of six, and since then the two outcasts had gotten along remarkably well whenever they'd seen each other. But that had faded when Jon and Cynthia had both grown older, and with Asher's exile on the horizon things became more serious in an instant. It was only now, with everyone she'd ever known dying around her, that Cynthia realised how much she'd truly missed the Stark bastard. Also having heard of the savage betrayal and murder of Jon's brother Robb, another close friend of hers, she assumed Jon would be pleased to see a familiar face still living.

"It's a beauty, isn't it?" Duncan's thick accent pierced the silence, bringing Cynthia out of her long, depressing line of thought. "I guess," Cynthia sighed, not really finding any beauty in the sight before her. Nothing was pretty, or breath-taking in Cynthia's eyes anymore. Nothing was happy or colourful. Everything was just...Numb. Grey, dull, miserable and dim. And even with two of her closest friends being but minutes away, there was no happiness left. Her brothers. Her fucking brothers were gone, Ryon was the only one left and as far as they knew he was dead as well, at the hand of a Whitehill. How was she supposed to be excited? How was she suppose to smile and gaze at a wall when her entire family was dissolving into ash? Her only upside being Asher's potential return, though for all she knew he could be dead as well, and Malcolm would be going to Essos for not apparent reason but to find his body. She wasn't sure how she would take that news, if it came to light that Asher had indeed fallen on the other side of the world, with none of his family around to say goodbye. That would truly be the end of her.

"Open the gate!" A voice echoed from above, and Cynthia noticed that they had in fact moved ever-closer to Castle Black whilst her thoughts roamed wild. With a metal, clunky gate rising in front of her, Cynthia began to think of what would happen beyond. They wouldn't be there for long, but Cynthia hoped she'd at least get to see her friends if not spend as long as she'd wish for with them. "Stay close." Duncan stated in a low tone, casting an accusing gaze at the men inside the walls of the fort, who's eyes had now diverted to the only woman they would see in a long time. Admittedly that wasn't one of Cynthia's top priorities when she'd agreed to go, but now it was clear she should have considered the danger she would be in more thoroughly. There were murderers, thieves and rapists here, and she was the only woman they'd be exposed to in however long. That may not bare well for her if she was ever forced into a situation on her own.

"What business do you have here?" A rough voice yelled from the nearby balcony, an old man with tufts of grey hair sprouting from his chin stood with a cold gaze glaring towards the two new arrivals. "Ironwood supplies, from House Forrester," Duncan replied calmly, sliding off his horse and skillfully landing on two feet. Cynthia went to follow his actions, but found a hand had caught hers before she'd succeeded on her own. The gloved hand gripped hers, enabling her to land carefully without breaking anything. "Thank you," Cynthia murmured, looking towards her helper. A vaguely familiar, dark haired man stood beside her, the tiniest hint of a smile gracing his bearded face as he retracted his hand from hers. He nodded once, but dared not say a word, which struck her as slightly odd. "Uncle!" Another voice sounded and it was too familiar to miss. She turned away from the man at her side and found Gared's enthusiastic face staring directly at her. "Cyn!" He exclaimed, stepping forward to give her a warming hug. "Good to see you too, Tuttle," Cynthia beamed back, enjoying the familiarity in the hug.

Cynthia and Gared had met when they were but ten years old, and now with everything that had changed around them, they were the closest thing one another had to real friends outside of House Forrester. Stepping away from the familiar face, Cynthia hardly acknowledged the words Gared said beyond the name. "Jon, this is Cynthia, an old friend." Gared's voice had faded to a dull hum in the back of Cynthia's mind, all she had heard clearly was Jon. Could it really be? After so long was it really him? "Never thought I'd see you this far north," The bearded man beside her chuckled, the familiar glint in his eyes sourcing her previous suspicions. She said nothing, not finding words to express all of the thoughts rushing through her head in that moment. All she could do was smile, smile wider than she had done in a long time, and jump into his arms. Five years and here they were again, finally together after so long. "I missed you, Snow."