𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑑, ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚.
or, a serpent sheds her skin for a boy whose wolf pelt fits him not.
⠀⠀⠀VALYRIANS 17.05.2017
⠀⠀⠀JON SNOW/FEMALE OC
⠀⠀⠀BOOK & SHOW CANON
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loc. the fist of the first men, beyond the wall. 299AC.
⠀⠀⠀BEING ONLY HALF-AWARE of one's surroundings was a terrifying thing.
⠀⠀⠀One second she had been surrounded by the ghost-pale forest, with snow and wildling arrows and blood in the ice.
⠀⠀⠀Then she blinked.
⠀⠀⠀She now found herself almost back at the camp. She couldn't even fathom what her brothers must be thinking. Three rangers had left, two had returned. But she wasn't really a ranger at this moment, was she? She was being hefted by Blackel, and once again she was someone's burden. Once again she had to be helped. She was sick of being helped.
One note, long and low. Sam's voice in her ear: one blast for rangers returning.
⠀⠀⠀The shouting confused her heavy head even more, each voice filtering through her ears and becoming trapped in her mind, building up to a cacophony so great and vicious that she wanted to scream until her throat was raw. But she had screamed already, and her throat was raw with sobbing. She could not afford to lose any more of herself.
⠀⠀⠀"What happened? What happened?"
⠀⠀⠀Were they talking to her? Maybe if she answered, they'd be quiet and let her rest. She opened her mouth but found she was choked. She coughed, and a spatter of blood jumped from her mouth. She felt Blackel shudder beside her.
⠀⠀⠀"Set 'him down. Just there."
⠀⠀⠀There was that cold again as she was clumsily set down on the ground. She could only tell it was the ground because the smoky, pink sky was all she could see now. The snow beneath her gave nothing away. She was always surrounded by cold now.
⠀⠀⠀"Get 'is shirt off," she heard someone yell, and finally she surfaced with a hot flood of panic.
⠀⠀⠀"Don't," she tried to scream, but her voice was swathed by thick silence; she opened her mouth and only blood came from between her lips. She felt hands, gentle hands and rough hands, grabbing at her cloak, tearing it.
⠀⠀⠀Two more layers. To more layers and it was all over.
⠀⠀⠀She tried feebly to push the hands off, but they were rock and she was petal; she could only gasp in protest when her outskin was removed; only her vest remained. Surely they could see her? She writhed violently, but her stomach sent waves of roiling agony so fierce it brought fresh tears to her eyes, and she stilled finally, chest heaving.
