Tormund and Styr are lost in the chaos of battle, and here I sit, perched, picking off crows like they're going to be my next feast. I thank the gods that I am not Thenn, none of these boys look particularly appetizing.
One, two, three, loose. It's a quick and melodic mantra as I fire off my arrows, sinking them deep into the flesh of men. I reach for my quiver, and notice that it is empty. I spring forward from my spot, and grab at some of the arrows that have already found targets. It is a satisfying thing to reclaim these triumphant weapons. I nock the arrows, and then lean out from my spot, noting the thin boy across the courtyard, loosing bolts from a crossbow. He's the next target.
It doesn't take but a second, and the arrow flies straight and true, lodging itself into his throat. He sputters, blood pouring from his mouth, as someone behind the wall cradles his dying form. I see him, a fat boy with dark tousled locks. We lock gazes for a moment, mine cold and judging, his fearful and confused. I turn my head away, the only thing that matters is properly disposing of every single one of the crows that dares defy our forces.
I am light on my feet, as I make my way through this fortress, plucking up the arrows that litter the field of battle. Most of the men are fighting with swords, but they are not quick enough to defend against me. I watch men fall, scream, and die. It is a great victory to be able to say I was here, to help my people to reclaim what was once theirs. They fall easily, as though they were never prepared, just like Mance had said. We will be victorious.
A sudden clanging of swords bring me back from my visions of grandeur. That's when I see him. Styr is hacking wildly at Jon Snow with his ferocious axe. I fall back, looking for a good vantage point. I know that I must kill Jon Snow, if Styr is to ever take me seriously. But I watch, and wait to see what will happen.
My mind is reeling, did I not threaten to kill the man who'd dare to try and kill Jon Snow? I look to the cold dirt beneath me, and growl deep in my throat. I should do something, otherwise I'm useless. I look back to where Styr as thrown Jon Snow into an anvil, and wince at the sight. I shake my head, my conscious is battling me hard.
Run to him! Save him! Kill him! I smack my head desperately trying to relieve myself of the turmoil in my mind. Styr has Jon in a corner now, near the Blacksmithing hut. Styr beats at him, Jon Snow's face is covered in blood, Styr is snarling, and getting closer as he tightens his grip upon him. Jon Snow defiantly spits a mouthful of blood that coats Styr's face, making him pull back for a split second, and in that time, Jon Snow lands a hammer straight through his skull.
My insides cheer, but my face is stoic, as I struggle to keep a look of anger and determination. Jon Snow turns to me at this point. My red hair a beacon in this dark area. I watch him fearful for what may come next. Again my thoughts begin to race. He's won! Styr is dead! You have to kill him, he betrayed you! Run away with him!
I can't stand it any longer, but Jon Snow stares in a sort of disbelief of seeing me, and then he smiles. I am drawn and ready to fire an arrow straight into his pretty face, but my heart rate picks up, just the sight of him in victory has me all aflutter. I stare for a moment longer, and then my thoughts decide:
I can trust him, because I love him.
Then my thoughts are broken, my head gets light, and I realize the pain that is blooming from my chest. I look down a bit, my brain attempting to learn what has happened. But I already know. An arrow sticks through the front of me, it's head sharp, and wet with my blood. I look back to Jon Snow, he is already moving toward me. His body is closer to me now, he holds me like I am fragile, which I suppose I am.
"Do you.." I begin. He shakes his head.
"Don't speak." he commands, his voice wavering.
"Do you remember the cave?" I say faintly. He bites his lip, and gives a nod. "We should have stayed in that cave." He rocks me gently, wary of the arrow through my body.
"We'll go back, together." He says, his emotions are still apparent when he speaks, though he's trying to ease my pain. I look him straight in the eye, and a small smile begins to play at my lips, though I'm sure it's not obvious. So I say the one thing I know he'll understand, the one thing that has always been ours.
"You know nothing, Jon Snow."