To epitomize the world in which we live, we must first step back and remember that we are flawed.
But to understand the world in which we live, we must recognize that man realizes just this: the good exploit the flaws and the wicked jeopardize their...
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The direwolves are a rush of white and grey as they spill gallons of red upon the snow-covered grounds of Castle Black, the blood of wildlings mixing with that of the Westerosi and truly distinguishing the stark sameness that substantiates men, both here and there. Indeed, it's almost as a civil war in graphic detail, where men fight men while monsters rage in the far reaches of the north. And it's made all the worst for Jon as he throws an assault upon a Thenn he's once sided with, and now fought to the death with the true glory and convictions of simple survival.
Jon does not duck quick enough as the leading Thenn grabs his head and shoves it against an anvil, the boy escaping the grasp of the massive Thenn by stumbling away. The man tries to grab at the bastard again, only for Jon to reach behind him for a singular weapon, grasping a helm of a hammer before lodging it thick in the Thenn's head, his skull cracking with glassy eyes before he collapses in front of Jon. His breath pants in his ears as he tries to make sense of these actions, dropping the hammer and shifting his eyes until they come in contact with the one woman he yearns for.
Jon and Ygritte stare at each other as if she's not pointing a bow his way, they stare at each other as if they're not on opposite sides of this petty war. Her eyes are a sharp contrast to those he once gazed upon in a dark cave, though just as illuminating on this night as in that moment. And despite it all--the threat of her arrow, the threat of the battle, and the threat of death--Jon simply smiles at her in the consistency of reunion, the girl only softly adjusting to the grin before an arrow pierces her heart.
He's moving before the arrow's completely halted in its path, eyes wide as they gaze upon a proud and loyal Olly who has no idea of the feat he just committed. And like before--in that cave where he held her and plundered her--Jon grasps Ygritte in his arms as her cerulean eyes sing with pain and confusion, her bow dropping with arrows unedged.
"Jon Snow," the woman calls his name with a smile like his, though a reticent emotion they lacked before this...of knowing the future and an untamable fate.
But Jon's not ready to accept her conviction or softened tone of death, holding her closer and not caring when she winces in pain, as his eyes bloom in the spring of love and he pleads to save her, "No, shh, don't talk."
"Do you remember that cave?" Ygritte asks him, as if not knowing that's all Jon can remember of their togetherness and the completeness that brought him. And though he wants to deny the dwindling time he has with her, Jon chooses to nod rather than to tell her of his fervent feelings and she smiles with an echo of his words, an apology: "We should've stayed in that cave."
His eyes glisten and he sobs silently at the past choices and intentions and everything that stood between them, holding her life in his arms and incapable of keeping it there when the gods are so cruel. But she seems happy for once--at peace for once--and he will not deny her that last lovely moment of life when there is so much sorrow to share, "We'll go back there."
