Wenn die Haifische Menschen wären...

Zwei weiße Haie glitten grad durch deine Augen.
Ich schmeck das bittre Salz der See in meinem Mund.
Es ist noch Angst in mir, wie könnte ich auch glauben,
dass dort kein Zweifel wäre unten auf dem Grund?
Ich versinke. Ich ertrinke ...

It is true, she thinks. He is a murderer, a monster. Born out of hate and blood and fire, he could be right out of one of Old Nan's tales. The scary ones Bran used to love, his and Arya's eyes shining with excitement, while she clutched her blanket tighter and suppressed a shiver.

But, a voice in the back of mind adds and it sounds feral, almost like a snarl, like him she realizes, they are all monsters here. One more vicious than the next. And all more dangerous than you.

And at least he is not making a secret out of it. He says so at every opportunity (says, but never acts on it, she has noticed lately), has a reminder written on his very skin.

(Though, she thinks, it is more like a reminder for himself that he is not the worst of the them. Not by far.)

"I'm honest. It's the world that's awful."

He is like an island of truth in a sea full of liars and she is grateful for its shore, no matter how hard and unwelcoming it is, because she feels like she is drowning and no one seems to care. Instead of helping hands she feels their eyes on her, calculating, waiting. And she almost hears their whispers.

"Are you giving up? Are you broken yet? Can you go on?"

No, she wants to shout at them, no I cannot. I am tired, I am sinking!

(And yet, she does not, because there is a rocky strip of beach, full of sharp stones and shattered seashells, where she can rest from time to time.)

But she can feel the sharks lurking beneath the surface. Calculating, waiting. Just out of sight. And if she could see them, she knows they would be smiling. All teeth and no mercy (not real one at least) and sometimes she catches herself thinking that it may would be better if she let them. It would not matter. It is not like someone would notice after all. There is no one left to notice.

Except, maybe there is, for every time she starts to see the shadows under water, tastes the salt in her mouth and feels something nip at her feet ever so slightly... He is there. Somewhere. A steady presence in the shadows around her and she feels strangely reminded of Lady. Sweet little Lady, long gone, like all the others.

(She was the first hint, but she did not hear, did not listen.)

She would laugh at the comparison (if she would still know how to, but she does not), for there are probably not two creatures on this earth more different. Except they are not. Not really. A wild beast, untamed and dangerous for anyone but her, never her.

(She can almost feel Lady's teeth moving gently against her fingers without breaking the skin and then her eyes stray to the looking-glass in front of her, the scar on her lip so thin and fine that one would never spot it if not knowing where to look. But she knows and she remembers calloused fingers wiping blood away they did not spill.)

However, she still cannot bear to look at him without flinching, always staring at a point just beside his ear (the one he still has left) and she still resents his hateful nature.

(Sometimes she thinks there lies the true danger. His fury will infect her, consume her and pull her under water with the incoming tide and she will welcome it. The shore can be treacherous in its own way she supposes.)

But she is grateful and she wishes she could thank him for... well, she is not sure. He is not kind (though telling her the truth is the kindest thing somebody has done for her in a long time). He is no knight (especially not a true one, he never fails to remind her). He certainly is not comely (and she struggles to remember why that matters). But he is there (and she tries not to get used to it, for sooner or later she will be the death of him too, like she was for Lady and her father, and then she will be alone again, a lonely seagull in a sea full of sharks) even if she has yet to figure out why. He seems to dislike her, she thinks, and the feeling is mutual.

His company is tiring, she does not like being near him. But she likes being near them even less.

Anyway, she has tried to thank him once before and the memory of what happened back then lets her shy away from the idea. So she just keeps quiet and forces a shaky smile on her lips when a sharp knock at her door announces his arrival. Like always.

A/N:

Ahem... Yes, i should be doing homewok right about now...and if i can't bring myself to do so and want to write Fanfiction really badly (I did... I do) at least I could continue the ones I already started first.

true... but where would be the fun in that?

So.. here is.. well... not quite sure.. a piece of Ice and fire, the aftermath of reading too much fanfiction and the actual books and probably the HBO show is also to blame ?!
There is more to come i fear, got a few ideas and i tend to write the most when i shouldn't be and since my exams are just around the corner... So brace yourself for more strange Oneshots from the sleep-deprived creature that is me. Critique is most welcome, like always.

BTW:

The title is inspired by the shortstory of Berthold Brecht (here is an englisch and a german version of it ( /title/If+the+Sharks+Were+People )
and the lyrics beneath are from one of my favourite StS Songs, 2000 Meilen unterm Meer (2000 Miles under the Sea)

Two white sharks just slid through your eyes
I can taste the sea's bitter salt in my mouth
There is still fear in me, how could i believe
that there wouldnt be any doubt down on the seabed?
I'm drowning, I'm sinking...

ASoIaF and all its characters belong to George R.R. Martin

See ya soon, Mag~