Of Snow and Ash.
AN:So me and a friend got very very bored, we decided to write this. It isn't your average fic, so bear with it. She would write a paragraph I would continue it and it went from there, so just suspend reality when it goes nuts. After 3 week, 37000 words later, and 100 different combinations of Dany's name. This was the result. Hope you can read it.
PS. If the grammar gets really bad let me know and I'll sort it out, this is freaking huge, I tried my best.
Jorah sighed and took another sip of his beer. He was a day from Bear Island and stopped in an inn just outside Winterfell. He travelled alone as it would be quicker. The queen required his summons. She sent a letter requesting his presence. About what he did not know. He was on the road for kings landing that same day. The inn was quiet, until out of the comer of his eye there was commotion. Two men arguing. No, a boy and a man arguing, was it a boy?
"Seven hells!" Lokarya swore. "I didn't steal your bloody coin purse!"
A man roughly a head taller than her grabbed Lokarya by the arm. His fingers dug into her as she tried to pull free.
"Swear at me once more, bastard girl, and you'll have no tongue on the morrow."
Lokarya swung her right hand and made contact with the drunks face. Using his momentary confusion against him, Lokarya attempted to twist the arm that gripped her, but the wine-soaked man had too strong a grip.
"You'll pay for that, slut." He grunted, rubbing his face. "Garret, hold her arm out." He shouted as he forced Lokarya to kneel.
Another man appeared from the crowd and took over from his friend, keeping one hand on Lokarya's shoulder and one hand on her outstretched arm.
The first drunkard laughed and pulled out a sword. "The penalty for thieving is a hand, isn't it?" He grunted.
Suddenly the entire inn was a riot. Jorah looked toward the main commotion. The gleam of a sword and the hand of the person it belonged to. Something flared up in Jorah, maybe it was the ghosts of his days as a slave, maybe it was the tone of his voice that he didn't like, either way he had no right, the queen wouldn't allow such a thing. Slightly drunk, Jorah rose and walked over to the man who held the sword. "You don't want to be doing that, do you?" Said Jorah, puffing out his chest and rising to full height, a few inches taller than the grubby man with the sword.
The man snorted. "Step away, I'm doing the Queen a favour."
Lokarya watched tentatively, still being held down, as the state of her well-being depended on this rather forlorn looking man.
Jorah, placed a hand upon the man's shoulder, "Let her go" Jorah said firmly, low and firm as if speaking to a naughty child.
"Take your hand away or I'll cut it away." Threatened the drunkard.
Lokarya didn't like how this was going and was trying to come up with a solution, but thought of none. Why was this man helping her? They hadn't met before, at least she didn't think they had.
More words were being tossed from man to man and the person holding Lokarya, apparently named Garret, didn't seem to know what to do.
"Enough words!" Roared the grubby man, raising his sword and preparing to forever separate Lokarya from her hand.
Lokarya flinched and closed her eyes.
"Yeah?" sneered Jorah, slowly letting his hand off his shoulder. "If you knew who you were talking to you'd think again" Jorah stepped back, allowed to be shoved away, he was probably too drunk to do anything. But the two men carried on regardless, the sword was raised, and Jorah put his fist in the man's face with a bloody crunch. The man with the sword dropped it immediately as the other one holding down the girl, reached for his own sword. Jorah grabbed for him too, shoving him against the wall, a fist to his face and stomach, whilst the other man on the floor recovered. The inn was in pandemonium, men fighting all around now.
Lokarya opened her eyes and thought for a moment that she was in the middle of a melee tourney. Men turned on each other in an instant of glancing at one another, blood and drink spilling everywhere.
The sword wielding man had taken a hefty blow to his nose, causing a fountain of blood to stream from his heavy hands. His sword had dropped by his feet and feeling the pressure from her shoulder and arm go, Lokarya drove herself forward snatching the sword up and pointing it at the red stained man for a minute or so before launching a strong kick at his manhood.
She smiled at his discomfort and looked around for the man who had helped her.
Jorah held the man by his shirt as he hit him, but he was a feisty one, Jorah let him go, a few hits was enough he didn't want to kill anyone. Jorah turned, to go to the girl. But before he could, the man charged at his back. And Jorah was on the floor. The man landed a punch to Jorah's face, he could taste the blood from his lip, as it ran into his mouth. Jorah regained his composure and kneed the man in the balls. He crumpled atop of him and the older man shoved him off. Jorah staggered to his feet.
Coming to the conclusion that both men had been dealt with, Lokarya began to make her way to the man who had protected her, dodging objects thrown during ongoing fights, and noticed that someone was copying her movements to her right.
She fell back and moved behind them, watching their fingers grip around a foreign looking dagger as they progressed towards the man in dark yellow.
Her protector was ridding the fallen man of his weapon when Lokarya jumped onto the back of the third man, sending them both crashing backwards to the floor. Lokarya gasped as the wind was knocked out of her, giving the man a chance to get up but it only took a sweep of her legs to bring him back down again. Unfortunately for the man, he had landed in the middle of another fight. Lokarya winced each time a brawler kicked and stamped over him, but was relieved.
Getting to her feet, she finally got to look her saviour in the face.
Jorah looked towards the girl amidst the chaos. He took a step towards her, and without a word he ushered them outside, dragging her through the crowd and barging past. Finally they reached the door, greeted by the cold winter wind.
The wind howled and bit at their faces, but neither of them showed much discomfort.
"Thank you for aiding me in there." Lokarya faced the man who had pulled her through the crowd. "If not for you, I'd be without a limb... and a tongue."
Jorah look at the girl, the daemon brand on his face gleamed dangerously in the moonlight and his blue eyes murky with the horrors he's seen "I've seen too much bloodshed, wasn't going to let that happen without prove, an inn is not the place for amputations" he tasted the copper of his blood then, his lip still bleeding, he spat into the snow, red against the white of the snow. "I only ask that if you did do what they say, turn yourself in" then Jorah slumped to the floor, raising his hand to his lip to assess the bleeding. He spat into the snow again, wincing when he brought up his hand. The knuckles were bloody and bruised "Where are you heading?" He asked the girl as he pushed his hand into the snow, the ice giving some comfort to the burning ache.
"Would that I could, but I didn't do as that man said. His coin purse was still strapped to his leg after the brawling, but he was too full of wine to even notice it."
Lokarya pulled a face as the man waved his injured hand in front of himself, assessing the damage done. Apart from a few red marks left from where the drunkards had grabbed the young lady, there was barely a mark upon her.
"I'm not really headed anywhere in particular." She replied, joining the man in sitting down. "I'm just trying to live my life. Find a place in the world which suits me."
She turned her head sideways towards the man, "What about you? What brings you to the North?"
"I'm from the north" said Jorah gruffly. Then he stood, flexing his injured hand, "Jorah Mormont of Bear Island"
"It is of my pleasure to meet you, Jorah Mormont. I am Lokarya Snow of Winterfell."
Lokarya picked up a handful of snow and let it drop idly between her fingers as she reflected on what had just happened.
"I am in debt to you, Jorah" she said, her eyes still fixed upon the snow in her hand. "Name what you will have me do in return and I shall do it with no quarrels."
Jorah thought for a long while, watching Lokarya play with the snow. "A Snow of Winterfell?" He was going to say something else, but pain made him wince. He felt something crack in his mouth, part of a tooth, he spat it to the floor. "No, I won't let you, you're free, you aren't in debt to me, go back to winterfell, it's safer there, the roads are no place for a lady" he winced again falling back against the wall in pain, "gods, he's got heck of a hand on him" his breath was shaky with pain.
Lokarya stood up quickly, wiping the snow from her thighs and went to Jorah.
"The roads are no place for an injured man, especially an injured man alone."
She looked uncertainly at the man before her, wondering what she should do. There was every chance she could make it back to Winterfell by the afternoon of the next day but what would that do?
No, she thought to herself, King's Landing is where I need to be if I want this whole situation sorted and this man has just been beaten black and blue protecting me.
"There is another inn," she began, "not far from here. I believe a Maester can be found there upon a time and perhaps he can help you."
Jorah laughed at hearing his own words, until the pain in his ribs stopped him. He was going to protest but she was right. Resting up, wouldn't do him any harm. The queen wanted to see him alive. "Help me up" he said holding out his hand.
Lokarya smiled as she gripped a hold of Jorah with both hands and pulled backwards.
It was only in the moment after she had helped him up that she had truly noticed his height. Beginning to feel quite small, Lokarya began pacing forwards, momentarily forgetting about the man's injuries.
She stopped and turned on her heels.
"What of provisions?" She asked, before realising that she should be helping the man and walked back over to help him move. "I did have a bag, but those fools took it away from me," she pointed to the inn, "and I wouldn't bet my chances on having another fight with them, do you? We barely won the first time."
"I don't think my ribs could take it, nor my hand" he faltered, as Lokarya helped him move, trying not to lean on her so much "I'd be as useful as nipples on armour" he limped heavily "and as for provisions, you did say this inn wasn't far, we better get there soon" he led Lokarya to the stables where his horse was and clumsily climbed on to the black horses back. "Lead the way"
Lokarya clambered upon her black destrier and gave the reins a quick tug, sending her out into the bitterly cold wind.
Every few yards, she'd glance back over her shoulder to check that Jorah was still following and hadn't fallen off his horse somewhere, left for dead.
Jorah slumped in his saddle, unable to sit up straight. He tried to keep up with Lokarya as best he could, he did eventually keep good pace with her. He hoped they wouldn't have to ride much longer, he could feel his strength slipping. He wasn't what he used to be.
"There it is!" Lokarya shouted back gleefully. The sight of the inn had not come soon enough as she feared that her saviour was soon to face the judgement of the gods.
She tethered up her destrier before quickly moving over to Jorah and helping him dismount from his horse.
"I'm fine" said Jorah, clenching his jaw. He clearly wasn't but he didn't want her to think he was a weak old man. His head was swimming, it took all his effort to get off the horse, what was happening. He took a step then he felt his strength go and his world went black "I think I'm-" he said weakly before Jorah fell into the snow with a heavy thud.
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