Episode one: A Cold Whisper {Game of Thrones} (COMPLETED)

Beck

Beck awoke, drowsily from a heavy sleep. It was still dark out, although up as far north as the wall, it was always dark outside.

He pushed himself sluggishly out of his uncomfortable bed, and got himself ready for another day of training. If he was to become a ranger, he would have to prove himself worthy of it.

But Beck had started to lose motivation. Many men had already ventured north and they didn't seem to be coming back anytime soon in the need of more rangers.

And Beck wanted to go north. He wanted to escape.

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While Beck and Ferret had only been at Castle black for several months, and the twins ever so slightly longer, they had all, equally, hated every minute of it and wanted to get away.

They had spoken of escaping several times already, but had never built up the confidence to do so.

Beck dragged a particularly heavy barrel of potatoes, over toward the rest of the barrels. They were running out of food and Beck was starving.

Then somebody tapped him on the shoulder.

"Ferret," Beck smiled, "glad to see ya, lifting barrels is so fucking dull."

"Yeah, yeah... I wanted to ask you something, Beck..."

"Go on."

"About the thing that we were talking about... with the twins..."

Beck furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"Y'know," Ferret leaned in close to Beck, and gently whispered, "about running away."

Beck straightened his posture, and pulled Ferret to the side of the row of barrels that he had been lifting to that same spot all morning.

"Just tell me, are you in? Cause if you are, you gotta know that when I say we go, we go," Ferret said sternly, looking into Beck's eyes with a firm stare, "there'll be no time for hesitating."

Beck paused for a moment.

"It's a big deal... running away," he began, "but if you can find us a good chance to escape, I'm in."

Ferret checked that no one was around them before replying, "good. It wouldn't be the same without you," he glanced at his feet before continuing to stare at Beck very seriously, "and you ought to know... we wouldn't be fleeing south..." Ferret intensified his gaze by narrowing his eyes, "I'm going to become part of the freefolk. Rudd and Kean 'ave said they will join me, but - I need you. You were my first friend 'ere - well, my first friend... ever... I suppose."

Beck half smiled at Ferret. He put his hand on his shoulder and firmly gripped it, "I'm with ya."

The two men grinned at one another, and continued lifting barrels.

Once the last barrel was aligned with the rest, Beck glanced up at his friend.

"Ferret?" he spoke.
"What?"
"You know how I told you my story, about how I got here?"
"Of course I do."
Beck licked his lips nervously.
"Who did you kill?"

There was a frosty silence, with only a slight wind breezing through the air like a cold whisper.

"My mother died giving birth to me." he breathed, "I never got to meet her. My father was too distraught..." Ferret took a deep breath before continuing, "he killed himself the next morning."

Beck shook in the cold air. An eerie shiver crept up his spine, giving him goosebumps all over his body. His hair on his arms and back stood on its end.

"I was given to my Aunt Mia and my Uncle Gregor. They were to look after me until I was able to care for myself," Ferret appeared to be in a lot of emotional pain while he spoke these innocent words. He bit into his bottom lip hard. Beck worried that he would draw blood.

"I was a baby... they did this to me for seventeen years..." he said, "all I remember is the chickens."

Beck eyes widened, "the chickens?"

"I'd go to stay with the chickens whenever I disobeyed Aunt Mia. I had to do all the chores; I had to groom the horses, cook the meals, clean the clothes, feed the cows, the pigs... and the chickens. I had to do everything. And whenever I missed something, I'd be living with the chickens from one full moon 'til the next."

He stopped for a moment.

"They starved me. They made me cook their meals and I had none of it. Not one bit. As I got older all I could think about was slipping poison into the meals... some essence of nightshade into their food, or just some sort of horrible green potion that would make them all grow pig tails and snouts," he chuckled. Beck tried to smile, but he was just so taken aback at what he was hearing.

"And... my cousin... Albert."

"Their son?"

"Yes, he was their fucking son. They beat him... humiliated him for his... imperfect eyesight."

"He was blind?"

"Of the sort, but his vision was more... blurry."

Ferret rolled his eyes, "didn't stop him from taking his anger out on me. He used to take little sewing needles from Aunt Mia's stash, and he used to stab me with them, when I was stuck in the chicken pen. He would poke them right into me... pierce my skin, draw blood."

Beck lowered his gaze to his feet and let his eyes lose focus.

"But this one time, I was lying in the mud in the middle of the night, unable to sleep... so I killed all the chickens." Ferret's voice was barely audible, only just a slight hint of a whisper, "snapped their necks one by one. Then I went and I took a dagger from my uncle's Weapon rack. I killed all their livestock, cows and all, 'cept from the horse, course. Then I went to my Aunt and Uncle's bedroom. I slit my uncle's throat and I put the same blade into my aunt's belly."

Beck was full on shaking now.

"Then, once I was sure they were totally dead, I went to see my little cousin. I poked hole after hole in his body, until there was nowhere left to poke holes." Ferret smiled, his face seemed to darken as his expression became daunting, "and he didn't even see it coming."

His cold blue eyes twinkled in the light provided by the hidden, but still existing sun, reflecting off of the perfect, icy white snow.

"I took the horse," he continued, "I rode to molestown, decided it wasn't for me. I didn't care much for whores. Never got the chance, I s'pose. All I knew was that I wanted to repeat what I had just done, over and over again, until the massive gaping hole inside of me had been filled." he blinked his perfect blue eyes and sighed, "and even though that hole didn't come from sewing needles or daggers and it didn't pierce my skin or draw blood and it certainly didn't kill me, that hole is more deadly than anything anybody could ever do to me, or has ever done to me."

Ferret looked up at Beck, "so I'm not afraid of some pathetic oath and a few angry wildings."