Idk but all this is inspired by a photoshoot of Vinnie Woolston
The Song of a Young Soldier on Watch
The men sprang from the trenches like rats, the sound of boots hitting the ground could not exceed the roars of the bombs colliding on the same. The legs were not moving as fast as they should, perhaps by starvation, exhaustion or the cold but were slow and not very laborious. The arms were bent at the chest height and the rifles were exposed to the young Germans.
He was in the front, shaking of course what else could he do? The trench was not a big deal, but it ressguarded him from the destructive claws of the war. The mountains of earth could protect you from bullets, as long as you bend enough to cover you completely; and now that was impossible, his whole being was exposed, in danger and too scary. It was a fear that had never before imagined, were the good old days which led him to take such a decision, What stupid mind could want with such care to be part of such a war? His certainly, the mind of a naive child who just wanted glory, a child of bad blood that estimated that in that way he would be remembered. At some point he wished it with all his heart and were matters of days with the bursts of the explosives as unique view in the sky to know that nothing can get there, nothing but panic, desperation and hunger, with so much luck a quick death.
His death was anything but quick. The bullet pierced his belly with such intensity that when feeling it he was already slumped on the ground. He looked at his companions leave and other fall very close to him. His hands oppressed the thin layer of meat in his abdomen and covered the wound, the blood was the hottest thing he felt until then. He raised his eyes to the sky, what did he expect? Like the first day, the sky was a portrait in grayscale, in a way it was nice for the time of death.
When inhaling for the last time a tickle invaded him, it was annoying and painful as if it were a thousand needles pricking his body and muscles. He allowed the pain to harass him, it was better to feel something when diying. He closed his eyes and tried that his last dream was at the mansion on Winterfell, full of snow, cold and hot at the same time, and of laughter and smiles.
He tried and failed, his dream was in black, an icy black.
"He awoke. He has woken up, Doctor!"
The voice of a woman danced through his ears, his eyelids managed to unstuck after it disappeared. He had to blink more than twice so he could capture true and legible images. His stealthy fingers went to his belly, they were dismayed when touching the bandages and returned.
"Good morning, Sir Snow."
He cocked his head to the doctor, he was a young and attractive man, a gift for the glare of the nurses, although not as much as it would be Robb. He had clear eyes, green one could deduce; golden hair as the sun and as long as the maids had; tall, he will probably take him two heads, and thin, the greenish outfit was coupled to his silhouette. The voice was soft and sweet as honey in the tea, he could not understand the first words for the buzzing in his ears.
"How do you feel?"
"How should I feel, Doctor? I do not feel anything."
He doesn't feel anything at all, even a little twinge in the wound. In the next stretcher was a boy without arms, that should be much more painful than a simple bullet crashing into the meat. He was one of the lucky few, he could ensure that it was luck.
"That's good." The doctor smiled at him, he had white as snow teeth. "Can you sit? Let me check you out. "
He gnashed the teeth when stretching his back and moves his hips. His back was coupled to the wall, the irons of the back of the stretcher touched the half of this, hurting and frozing it. The doctor sat beside his pelvis and waited to unbutton the top buttons of his shirt to support the stethoscope on his chest.
"Breathe deeply." He did it slowly, failed in the first instance. "Again." He repeated it, this time with greater success. "Well, you are in perfect condition, Sir Snow."
He accommodated his shirt when he was released, in that moments he didn't appreciate the closeness. "How long have I been here?"
"A month."
At least he could brag that lasted much more in the war. In those three months he did nothing but tremble by hunger and the icy of the night, and complain about the low of his decision, how stupid he was and how sorry he was.
"I-I will have to return to war?"
He could not go back, no, he will no longer have the strength or the necessary spirit. The glory that he would gain by fighting for England wasn't enough. Just by thinking it a chill run down his spine and paralyzed him.
"Not right now, you just wake up and you need to continue resting." The doctor approached to him, much closer. The fingers were adjusted to his jaw, straightening his face. "Open your mouth, Sir."
His tongue was pressed by the clapboard that entered deep into his mouth, he was about to vomit, but coughed when the air was all that invaded him. The nurse left when hearing the heavy breathing of the soldier from beside.
"You'll know, Sir, more and more soldiers end up here and there are few resources at our disposal. And I have no freedom to allow you to continue resting here, you see, we are not able to keep stable soldiers." The doctor said slowly. "But do not worry, you do not have to return to the battlefield. You can relax with your family, do you have any way to contact them?"
"I have no family ... not alive."
He was a bastard but still had a family. His father, Lord Eddard Stark died years ago by the flu, at least so diagnosed the Lannisters. His brother Robb died in battle, he was not one of the lucky ones. Catelyn was weakened by the sadness that cornered her with the losses, although he did not feel appreciation for that woman his heart ached when remembering her. The beautiful Sansa was engaged to the Prince Joffrey, she was not in the best hands but had a better life. The littles, Arya, Bran and Rickon were staying with Lady Lysa Tully. None of those places were for him.
"And I guess you will not have money, right?" He denied shaking his head with triviality. "Of course. Then how do you think it would be seen to abandon a wounded soldier on the street?"
"It depends on whom you ask. How would you see it?"
"Well, I would see it fine. But would not be a shame to abandon such beauty?" The doctor smiled. "I could help you to get a place, I live a few blocks from here. You can stay as long as you want or until they ask for you again, and you will have me there, I can be aware of your health. Of course only If it seems right for you."
"Would not it be much trouble? It's the first time I see you and I'm no one important, there is no need to protect myself. I would not mind to return to war, I have friends there, well, those who are not dead."
His body shrank against the wall and meanwhile shook his pelvis backward adjusting it to the backrest and moving away from the other by a mere instinct. The doctor bent down to him, he was so close that the only perimeter he was getting was that of that pale face. The palms were fitted in his flushed cheeks, his eyes descended. He understood that the war changed the people, he could blush with greater ease like a maid.
"It would not be a bother for me, I've been watching you for a month and with that should be enough."
He accepted, accepted in some unknown way. He did not remember, he just knew that he was already attached to it. He would achieve get some money before having to return, an employer devoid would require of a bastard who did nothing but tremble in the trenches. In the mansion Stark never allow any servant to attend him, he was used to the work and he did not get tired so easily.
The nurse helped him to stand, she was as young as Sansa, not as pretty but it was still pleasing. He staggered when being for the first time standing, if the arms of the nurse hadn't surrounded his back he would be located on the floor. She changed his bandages, his flesh was pressed between the new.
"Good night, Doctor."
"Good night, sweetheart. Try to relax."
The doctor looked over his shoulder, he hurried to catch him up. The sky was different to the last witnessed, of a dark color and filled with bright stars, the moon round was planted at one end. The streets in contrast to the trenches were filled with joy, consistent in the shouting.
"There is a fair in the square, we can go tomorrow do not you think?"
"If it is not a nuisance for you."
He used to concur to the fairs with his brothers, sisters and Theon. He wondered where the latter would be found. They also used to return late at night and being scolded by Lord Eddard.
"By the way, what's your name?"
"You can call me Damon." He responded as he light a cigarette, the smoke of the first inhalation made him cough and that caused the laugh of the contrary.
"You are young and in shape, why are not you in the battlefield, Damon? What are you, a coward?"
"Coward? Would you like that?" Damon exhaled the smoke in his face. "I would like to be there but I can not, my lungs are not so young nor are in shape."
"But you smoke, maybe you do it on purpose. You are scared, right?"
Damon smiled slyly and threw the cigarette. "You know nothing, Sir Snow."
The following three blocks they walked in silence, the lights of the fair were just as intense as the lightnings of the bombs. The jingle of keys was so harmonious as the whistle of the aircraft surpassing the heights. The door moved giving way to the inner darkness, Damon reached out with a gesture.
"Welcome to my world. Sorry to be small, it will improve with the end of the war."
The lights came up after both entered. Make yourself at home, he could never feel comfortable anywhere else other than the Stark mansion. His fingers moved restlessly and with paused steps pursued Damon until he gestured to take a seat. He did not think it as a small house, the living room was much larger than the room in which he woke up.
"It must be weird for you, right? Your whole life living in a mansion and now in this little shack." Damon rested his arms on the table and crossed his right leg over the left, tilting his back. "I have a mansion too, my friend has one to be exact. If you feel suffocated here I could take you there, you'll be home."
"I do not always lived in a mansion, I spent three months in a trench."
"That does not count. So, mansion man I must warn you that there are no servants here so oneself must do everything. And that's why I have to set certain rules."
And there he was, maybe that was why he hated so much talking or get involved, a brake was always generated for any action. He did not mind the rules, with anteriority he could have affirmed with more confidence. He settled his elbow on the table and his cheek on the palm, the fingers extended across his face and his eyes narrowed, he would try not to fall asleep.
"As for the food, you know that the economy is now being attacked? I could feed us both but I think it's more than just that everyone earn his grain, do not you think?"
"No, I will not have money in a month and with luck. How could that be fair? Not even I had followed you if informed before, I prefer return to war."
"Oh, come on! Do not be dramatic! You'll have a job, I'll give you one. Do you think I would be so evil? Did you think you really I would leave you without eating? Do I not look like a good host? You have a very bad impression of me." Damon had a long smile and was little upset. "You will work for me and I will feed you, you will always be here, comfortable and warm."
"Are you saying that I will be your servant?" He raised an eyebrow.
"No, I would not call it that. I think you will be better with the nickname of bitch."
He did not reply, he could have risen abruptly and get away, he chose to remain still and watch as his fingers slid down the table. Gradually they reached, climbed his collarbone to his chin. He straightened his back, he pursed his lips and frowned.
"You have a pretty face, do not you think it would be appropriate to take advantage of it? I will make you rich if you give me your services."
"Since when do you want this?"
"From the first day. It was a cold evening and you came, dying and bleeding, How could I resist such charm? And I saw every night before leaving and just returned early in the morning. You were there, resting without any concern. I touched your lips so many times but nothing else, it would not be fun if you so not put resistance. "
It was disgusting to hear, no, it was not. "I will not be what you want."
"Yes, I thought so ." His face was taken to the other, his eyes tried not to be so locked on Damon. "And I'm afraid that you will not eat and you can not be comfortable nor warm. I've told you what the rules are and I will not change them. Now come with me, I'll show you your place here."
He accompanied him without complaint, he would bear one night and In the morning would leave. Would get a place on which stay until having to return to the cruel war, he wanted to believe that it would be easy. He was taken to the last room and then to the back garden, was nothing more than a pile of dirt and timids proportions of grass.
"I'll sleep here?"
"I did not made it clear? Of course, you'll sleep here. This room is free for you."
Damon took the chains wrapped on the corner, he shuddered with the chime. He moved backward as the other approached to him, he stopped when having his back cornered against the wall and Damon sighed. His hands plunged in the opposite chest, intended to move it away without using force.
"Still, do not make it harder for you." He said and wrapped his neck with the chains, that squeezed his skin but not the needed to take his breath away. "Try not to take it off, you will not make it and I do not want you to have marks."
Damon pulled the chain and forced him to leave. He tied the other extreme to the nearest tree, he still do not conceived the repulsion but he felt the disease that tickled his stomach, making him feel vulgar. If he could feel the repulsion everything would be more relaxing when resisting.
"The night is long, Sir Snow, think it again. I will not let you go until you have thought about that again. Just think about it."
Damon kissed his forehead before abandoning him and submit him to the mercy of the stars and the coldness of the night.
I am curious and I wonder if anyone has any fancast for Damon... I need one.