Healing You
First of three scenes: Healing You, Keeping You and Seeing You
She opened her eyes in the middle of the night, out of breath, covered in sweat. She felt like she had been running in the forest, along with Ghost. She felt like, for an instant, she had been with him, showing him the way back to her. As if she knew, she told herself. She certainly did not know where he was. As to knowing the way back to the Wall, that would be a matter of having ranged this damned forest at least once in her life. And Ser Aliser would not let that happen. Pleading that he did not want to see her hurt by her monster brother again, he would not let her venture forth before she was ready. Of course, Thorne would be the only arbiter of her efforts past the months, the years he would decide to see her drill under his command. She had asked for it after all. "Train me until I can fiercely run back into these woods and open my brother's throat and see all the blood stream out of him, all the hopes he has built in his insane mind flee. I want to see in his eyes the realisation of what he did to me", she had begged. It was certainly not of usage to accept a woman in the Night's Watch ranks. But she had seemed so strong, so savage, so desperate and in need, all at once. Ser Aliser had first used her to humiliate the boys until he had himself been taken aback. Thirteen years without seeing the sun, nourishing such a grudge, certainly gives reasons to fight back. But now, she was finding herself insecure.
Jon had left Castle Black a fortnight ago and everything seemed unfair to her since then. The boy already had two whole years of training before she joined them, plus the two they carried out together. Yet when the Lord Commander decided to send Jon Snow and five other men ranging after the four that never came back two moons before, she could not help but feeling left behind. She did not even try to question Mormont's decision. She knew she would be blamed again for the closeness she had built with the boys. But once again, she found that unjust. She was only trying to make everyone around her happy. After what she had been through, she felt rightful to enjoy life again. And being the sister of all these boys, torn away from their family, appeared to make them as happy as her. The only ones grumbling where the commanders. Although she considered them as the uncles, fathers or grandfathers she never had, a distance established by their oath prevented the trust she would have liked to share with them. So long as she could spend her suppers laughing with her brothers and her nights talking with Jon, alone in the haunted tower, she did not care much about the elders' views. But now that Jon, Sam, Pyp and even Grenn had gone into the darkness of the Haunted Forest to flush out some terrible nightmares of her, she could not help but feeling useless, insecure and upset. At day, she was overwhelmed with the attentions of Halder, who was making the most of Jon's absence. Even Ser Aliser seemed to develop a weird interest in her, something she had not noticed before, something she did not like. Under Jon's protection, though she did not like to consider herself in need of anyone's protection, she had been oblivious of the lusts trailing her. And for the twelfth night, she was waking up from a nightmare where she could not help him.
She laid there, pressing her face once more against his pillow, hoping to inhale some of his sent. In her back, the hearth was dying again. Soon the wind will leap out from the fissured walls and shattered windows and there will be no direwolf's warmth, no strong bastard's arms to defend her from the cold. She turned around and let the ice blue moon perfuse on her face. Even the moon was a beautiful sight after a life locked in a cell under the earth. She could see her light through the tiny hopper window of her prison. But the angle was too obtuse to see her full roundness as she was seeing it right now. Even with the uncertainty of Jon's fate seizing her, she could not hold back a smile. The world was beautiful, Pyp had told her. The Wall, despite its built-in beauty, was certainly the gloomiest landscape of the Seven Kingdoms. She had to see the South: the Vale of Arryn, the Trident, Kingslanding, Highgarden, the Dorne. Sam said there was nothing like the cider from Ashford's brewery. She had no other dream than to ride away with them to taste the warmth of this world she knew only from maps. On the way there, they would halt in Winterfell and meet the little Rickon, Bran the climber and the strong Robb. Jon described them so many times she felt like she already knew them. She would make Bran laugh and forget about his crippled position. Poor thing, she could not stop thinking. She laughed when she heard Jon say again that Robb would certainly fall in love with her. She was always answering that she would gladly marry him, just to tease him and see him pull his face full of jealousy and pride.
Dreams, that was all that was. They could quickly become nightmares if her brother hunted them down on their way. He would kill them, all the boys, and bathe in their blood in front of her terrorised eyes. She would want to die, drawn crazy by the pain. He would rape her again, she knew and Jon would not be able to protect her then. So before any of this could be planned, she would have to kill her brother.
The trail of her thoughts was suddenly interrupted by the howling of a direwolf. She knew it was a direwolf, she was hearing them from her dark prison and she had learnt to recognise them. The direwolf's cry was huskier and they were singing longer than the other kind. This one was close, very close to the Wall. A brief and subtle high-pitch note made her shiver. She threw the sheets away and sprung out of the bed. The stone floor froze her toes but at that moment, it was the last of her concern. A sudden hope had conquered her heart as she thought she recognised Ghost. She reached for the window and peered through its destroyed glass. There was movement at the top of the Wall and the man guarding the gate's winch was starting to manoeuvre it. She could barely hear the shouts of the Night's Watch men through the icy wind but she understood they were letting someone in. She was gripping the window sill, digging her nails in the rotten wood and she held her breath.
The white beast barely had the time to dart through the breach of the opening gate that Esmeralda was already wrapped in her fur cloak, a foot falling in her boot as she stepped out of the room in haste. She rushed down the stairs, ran down the corridors and threw open the wooden door only to thrust herself into the ice and snow now spraying from the sky. She did not have the time to hesitate. She could smell the blood. She could be of help. Pray Jon is not hurt, she was whispering as her boots were crushing the icy skin of the ground. In the far distance, she could make out the porch of the old bailey. The shaggy white shape was sitting there, whining and barking, calling for her. She knew Ghost was urging her. She ran faster and dashed into the place, her brain too blurred to anticipate any of what was going to happen.
She counted five horses. That was one less than those who left. But surely if Ghost was here… She recognised his shadow. This posture, these broad shoulders, this rough curly black hair dancing in the wind, it could only be him. She released the air she did not realise she was holding and retrieved her well-known serenity. She spotted Sam and pounced on him. He had already unhorsed and was squealing frightened orders to Pyp and Grenn. They all seemed in such a hurry but she could not restrain herself. She had waited for them every evening at her window. All she wanted to do now was making sure they were real, that she was not dreaming. She hugged him straight, catching every bit of him she could fit in her tiny arms. As she drew back, she placed her hands on his shoulders and scanned the length of him. He was unhurt. He desperately needed a shower, a hot soup and some quiet rest but he was unscathed.
That is when she turned to the others that she realised they were actually helping Jon down his horse. The smell of blood was truly coming from him. She saw him moving and once on the ground, he stood, so the damage could not be lethal. But she could not stand the idea of him wounded. She left Sam behind and heard him setting about explanations to the Lord Commander. She ran ahead of Pyp and Grenn who were supporting each of Jon's steps, leading the way to the armoury where she knew she could find pieces of bandage and hot water necessary to any required intervention. As they got closer to the building, the light of the forge drew worried shadows and distressed wrinkles on their faces. They seemed lost in the familiar empty room when they settled the injured man on a bench, close to the fire. Once he was sit and she knelt in front of him to have a look at his face, they stepped back and took a short break to regain their breath. She could sense their racing heartbeat and set about calming them first. She turned her face to them and gently smiled as she only knew how. That was the reassurance of home that they saw in her face. And suddenly they started talking simultaneously. She could scarcely catch any word as the shock made them stammer or speak too quickly. "We found them", said the first, "there was blood everywhere", echoed the second, "they attacked us", "Jon tried to protect us", "we galloped for days", "we were so scared". She lifted her finger in front of her lips and silently hushed them, still wearing her smile. "Everything is going to be alright now. You're home", she murmured. A tear fell down the cheek of Grenn and she could finally see their frightened expressions fading away. That is when Aliser Thorne came through the armoury's door behind them. He peeped successively at her, Jon and finally the two boys and resigned gesturing them to follow him outside where they could be cared for by the Lord Commander and the cooks, as all they needed now was telling the story of what happened around a plate of honey roast ham and some turnips. They both did as they were told, half asleep and Ser Aliser threw a last glance at Esmeralda before trailing after them. There was nothing he could do to separate them at this moment, as he knew the girl was the best person in the keep to take care of his wounds. Even Maester Aemon's salves had been less effective than the medicine she had learnt in the books and since she arrived here, the Night's Watch men had never been so resistant to diseases and injuries. So he let her to heal him.
As she resumed lifting his head, her fingers slipped on the sweat covering his face. She reached for a bucket crammed with unspoilt linen usually used to wipe the longswords after the drilling and then disposed of. She grabbed a handful and turned back to wipe his cheeks and eyebrows, shoving a fall of black hair from his forehead. His cheekbones were reddening under the warmth brought by the fireplace and life was coming back into him as she placed one hand under his chin and another on his temple to gently topple his head and examine his features in the light of the flames. He finally managed to open his eyes but he looked nothing but wary.
"Is this a dream again?" he grizzled.
She could not help but giggle. "No, Jon Snow. This is home," she replied. And she left his incredulous look on his face as she continued working on cleaning the dirt off his neck. She stood up, threw the cloth in the fire and headed towards the large barrel placed in one corner of the room where fresh water was stored to ease the thirst of the lads at the end of the drillings. She filled a ladle and returned to the bench where he was slowly starting to move again. That is when he sat up that she noticed the tip of metal emerging from his black chest plate. She handed him the drink, caught a low stool next to the mantelpiece and positioned it in front of him. She could not take her eyes off the oozing wound. She gave him the time to fully reanimate and his mouth even started curling up when he recognised her, only to droop after her concern flowed through him.
She moved on his side and unfastened the straps of his armour. To remove it she had to slide the metal along the dangerous tip. No doubt it would make it move and cause him an immense pain but she did not have the choice. As she proceeded, his grunt turned into a cry but she did not stop. She could not stop. She had to be quick: as long as he was dizzy from the pain, the wound area would be numb and every operation carried out then would seem less hurtful. She stepped aside and took hold of a dagger sticking out of a weapon stand. In a dash, she sliced through his lower leathers and woollens and stripped his chest off everything apart from the bloody hole piercing his flesh. It had a gruesome aspect and blood drops were now colouring his bare skin, ignoring the landscape of his muscles to come crushing on his navel. She sat on the stool and stared at the cut, feeling her own sweat dripping from her brows. She moved her hand forward and felt the cold of the metal at the tip of her fingers. She looked up at him. He had regained himself now and was perforating her with the sourest of gaze. He slowly lifted up his hand and pushed her arm away from his chest.
"We have to remove it Jon"
"Don't touch it," he snapped at her.
"I can't possibly leave this thing pierce you. It might reach your heart at every move. I don't even know how long this piece of metal is!" For him to react like this, it could only be fairly long. His reaction was just a childish fear of the pain the removing of the weapon would cause, she told herself.
"Not long enough. Stop worrying"
He started getting up, leaving Esmeralda wondering how he could possibly believe she would let him get away with it. But she did not give him the time to push himself off the bench and he had no strength to resist. She jumped on her feet, pushed him back on the shoulders, leaned forward on him, bending her left knee on the bench and kissed him fiercely. In the same movement, she brushed his hand off, gripped the metallic tip and pulled it out with all her strength in the neatest gesture she could manage. Taken by surprise, Jon instinctively gripped her wrist, almost breaking it. But it was too late and the deadly weapon was now dangling from her hand. The pain spread out from his torso, up his neck, as much as he could not stand. In an unconscious reaction, his jaws clasped, closing on Esmeralda's lips. A thin line of blood escaped from the embrace of their mouths but she refrained from crying out.
She had achieved what she wanted to do but she did not withdraw just yet. Instead she brought her free hand to his face and brushed a handful of slick hair to the back of his head where she made her grip stronger. As a response, he used his right arm to seize her at the hips, placed his hand up her back and pressed her closer to him. That is only when they split their mouths apart that she realised the awkwardness of their position. They stayed there, panting, for a minute that seemed an eternity. She oddly realised she was wishing the world would stop now and that she could let herself drown into the blackness of his eyes. There was no more sound, no more light but the one reflected by the small tear welling at the corner of his eye. The strong grip he had on her wrist was cutting the blood flow in her hand and her fingers lost hold on the metal bit. The noise resonated in the armoury and woke them up from their blunting. He looked embarrassed for a split second but she would not let any feeling leap out of her face. She just stepped away from him and walked again to the barrel of water, catching a jug on her way there to bring it back full. He was looking at his feet, thoughtful. She sat on the stool, put the jug on the ground and gently lifted his chin up with her fingers, making him look at her.
"Everything is going to be alright now," she repeated to him.
And he believed her. She heard him praise the gods for having laid her on his path one day as she resumed cleaning his wound and bandaging his chest, wrapping the whole thing tight around his shoulder. That made her smile. And she could now fully rejoice from the return of her favourite boys to Castle Black, safe and sound. She would not sleep alone in this dreadful tower tonight. She could laugh again to Pyp's tales and Sam's complaints. She could train under Jon's advice and put Grenn on the ground tomorrow. How sweet the sound of the snow falling tonight, now that the wind had settled down. She was useful to somebody. She was precious to somebody. And she was respected by all of them. And she prayed the gods herself silently for having giving her the courage to climb up the Wall to escape her brother, for Jon to have been watching that night, for him to have caught her hand when she had lost grip. Ghost entered the room and curled up before the hearth. The sight of such a familiar thing decided Jon to start telling her about their ranging. She listened carefully.
As for the kiss, they never talked about it again.