Keeping You
Second of three scenes: Healing You, Keeping You and Seeing You
The click of her steps bounced on the walls of the drilling yard. The soon-to-be brothers broke off their exercises to stare at her. Some had heard the rumours and wondered what her next move would be; others were only startled by the length of her stride, and the rest surely envisaged her naked on top of them. She could feel the filth of those's yearning but she had learnt not to care after several years spent among the men of the Night's Watch. She could still remember the first sight of the Wall, the hope that blazed in her fuelled by the dread of being caught again, sent back to that dim room. She had had no wavering then and no time to think as she started scrambling the frozen north side, digging her nails into the ice layer like a tiger would climb a tree to escape its hunters. Insanity had been driving her, she recalled, she didn't even comprehend how she had been able to reach the top and grasp the hand that was offered. A husky voice, loud over the wind, had been ordering not to help her for a long time thus she had prepared herself not to be welcomed. But few meters from the end of her ascent she had seen the red eyes. The direwolf, barely identifiable in the sleet that had been falling that night, was leaning out right above her. So white he looked like a ghost in the faint moonlight. And as her hand clutched the edge between his paws and started slipping, tired from the long effort, her other hand had found the help she had not expected. The boy had appeared right beside the beast and grabbed her arm before she could fall. He had lifted her with a disconcerting easiness and pulled her to safety. When she thought back of that instant afterwards, she remembered Thorne thundering on Jon, threatening inclement punishments, and the arguing following, but all she had observed was the ominous shadow of her brother, pacing up and down the feet of the wall, hundreds of meters below. She knew he could have decided to come up after her. But she realised now how great the danger the brothers had represented to him. Instead he had cleverly chosen to resign himself to her fate and stayed lurking in the Haunted Forest until that very moment.
For now she was upset, upset as she had never been. The rumours were true: a box had been found at the entrance of the tunnel at first light that morning, half covered with snow. The watchers on duty had noticed its bounds gleaming in the morning sunrays but had sworn not seeing or hearing any trespassers coming near the Wall during the night. Castle Black was not accustomed of receiving delivery from that cardinal. This could only portend dark omen. She could imagine the fear on their faces as they broke the hinges open. But what they had found inside quickly became corridors bruit: a rotten antler covered in blood, the broken sword of Ser Waymar Royce, the muddy gauntlet of Mance Rayder… As many truths as men to tell them. But Grenn's eyes had been leaking with terror as he stuttered his story. He had been there; he told Jon and Esmeralda as they were breaking their fast, he had seen it himself. The severed head of a dead man, lying at the bottom of the cursed box. She could not have questioned his honesty while his whole body cowered at the memory. The deduction had passed through her brain like a bolt. She had vaulted onto the table before Jon could reach for her. "Seven hells, where are you going?" he had shouted after her. She hadn't taken the time to answer; if what she was dreading was true, she had no time to answer. This head undoubtedly was one of Wilfrid's men, if not Wilfrid himself. She had seen her brother in her nightmares again, convulsing into sardonic laughter, stretching his arm forward as to catch her and she knew what it meant. Revenge. He was coming after her. And this was his first warning.
But Esmeralda, as strong headed as she was, was not the kind to draw hasty conclusions. She needed confirmation from the Lord Commander himself before taking action. So here she was, crossing the yard towards the tower, Jon trailing far after her. The sun had hidden above a thick layer of snowy clouds, low in the sky; the weather heralded the storm. She was banging on the wooden door for the second time when Jon caught up with her. He stood behind her left shoulder and lowered his voice. "I know what you're thinking. I'm no fool. I implore you to show reason and not let insanity drive you if ever you're holding the truth of it." She banged again, louder but gave no answer. "This is all he wants, Esmeralda. Your anger leading you right into his trap." The door flew open. The stout face of Samwell Tarly emerged from the dull hall. His eyes flicked from Esmeralda to Jon whom he questioned with a raised brow. She did not wait longer to shove him out of the way and tumble into the solar. She heard Sam stammering a warning that Jon acknowledged but she was already positioned in front of the table where Lord Mormont, Maester Aemon and Ser Thorne were sitting.
"What is it Esmeralda?" demanded the Lord Commander.
She did not waste time setting her question into a context, "Is it Wilfrid's?"
"What are you talking about?"
"The head! Is it Wilfrid's?"
He exchanged a concerned glance with the Master-at-arms. "What if it were?" cautiously asked Thorne.
He knew her well, she realised, because this question forced her to brace for their upcoming reaction to the explanations she would give. And this instantly set her nerves down. She felt her spine relax under the breath she blew out. She perceived Jon and Sam shuffling in her back and weirdly, it comforted her. She faced Thorne and addressed him.
"If it is, my lord, I can hereby claim that I know the murderer of our brother."
"You are no brother, my Girl" reminded Maester Aemon.
She did not pay attention to him. "My blood brother killed this man, and most probably all the rangers that left with him, like all the ones before them, my lord."
"And what makes you maintain that, other than your nightmares and fears?" She was cut short by the distrust burning in Thorne's eyes. "Six groups of men have been sent out to search the woods in the past four years, the first long before you joined us here. The only one that came back complete and alive is your friends' here." He jerked his head toward Jon and peeked at Sam, a scowling expression on his face. "And none of them were able to tell us what had attacked them so close to the Wall. Wilfrid left months ago. We remained out of news of them longer than the green boys and yet you stand here, declaring knowing the truth of it, pretending possessing a logical explanation to all this, while you've not even stepped out of Castle Back since your arrival. So now, go on, give me the name of the man who slaughter our rangers but spare the stewards, a butcher who would attack our men few leagues from here but also deeper in the forest, a shadow that cannot be seen from the top of the Wall and that started his killing before you were born." As he stopped speaking, it was obvious how hard it had been for him to contain his exasperation. He had lost too many brothers and the disappearances had been going on for too long. Unfortunately, the answer she had to give would not suit him and he would find hundred ways to counter it. Yet she had to try; she knew she was right.
"Aren't you aware of the danger closing up on the Wall, my lords? How many times have I heard you complain about the cold and dark wights lurking in the woods, waiting to wade in? Winter is coming, my lords, the Starks certainly have the truth of it." Jon cleared his throat. "Well, my brother used to call himself Winter. I know it sounds stupid, my lords, but I could sense the truth of that name. And now, the same menace takes over my heart. I know he's coming closer. I cannot bring forward any evidence. As you say, lord Thorne, I'm just a green girl. But I plead you to trust me. I know these things, I was raised in these woods on the other side of the Wall and this man is not a man. Which man would slaughter his whole family just to keep his sister for himself and lock her in a cell under the ground every day of her life? All this time, my lords, I've known my brother had abilities a human ought not have. He's dangerous; more dangerous than you can imagine." She actually didn't flinch while she spoke. She stood her ground and if not for her words, there would have been no way to doubt her.
"So you're saying your brother killed these men?" asked Maester Aemon, his blind eyes aimed at the ceiling.
"In fact, if you accept to hear me out, I could give you an argument that proves my theory." Mormont turned his head to watch Thorne's reaction. He didn't move an inch, focused on her intently. So the Lord Commander gestured her to speak out. Jon stepped forward but she blurted without giving him the time to intervene. "I've told you about my life. All of you know that my brother slit the throat of each and every member of my family as they gathered to celebrate my first name day. Amongst the facts that make me believe he always felt a wicked sort of love toward me, there are the blatant regular rapes. But you have to understand: this is a love that drives him mad constantly, day and night, obliterating any trace of senses and intelligence from him. My insight is that his inhuman nature probably made his feelings worse and there was never any reason in his behaviour." She was reassured to see Lord Mormont nod as he recalled the first time she told him the story, when she was brought before him the night Jon saved her.
"I've studied since you recounted your terrible story my child," Maester Aemon contributed, "and I found some examples of such folly reported in four cases around the Seven Kingdoms, and the Gods know if there were any more never spoken about. Each boy showed an unbelievable insanity and strength, killed all their relatives except one, the sister in one case, a cousin or neighbour otherwise, and kept the girl for himself for years, beating her up when she didn't cooperate and violating her whenever he intended to prove he owned her. In all cases, the girl resigned herself to suicide and the boy was found crying and screaming out over her corpse, like a child destitute of his toy. We were lucky you clung to life that much."
"I clung to life only to see the day I'll get revenge." She gritted her teeth.
Mormont's curiosity seemed sharpened by the Maester's input. "What age did the boy start showing his queer demeanour?"
"In all cases, as soon as the mother was declared pregnant. Some witnesses even report having heard the boy guess his mother was with child before she actually realised it. But the killing never occurred before the girl was sexually mature. Esmeralda's case appears an extreme in that matter."
"Thirteen years without sunlight" she said sullenly. "Thirteen years without killings." She had caught their attention again though Thorne never ceased staring at her, a blank expression on his face, growing impatience in his eyes. "My lords, one thing I omitted telling you in that story, because I considered it irksome enough", Sam grunted behind her, he was always incensed by the feeling of guilt she developed every time she related someone her past, "what I didn't tell you is that, all this time, my brother fed me human meat." The unease grew noticeably in the room. She hated being the source of it. She hated the pity on their faces when they listened to the tale. Jon had been the only one making her feel comfortable enough to speak about it without grieving him. One last time, she repeated herself what he had told her many times: she didn't choose her past, everything was her brother's fault and she should not be ashamed of it. "My parents' corpses… He stored them in the ice, you see, and sliced them daily to feed me. And then it was the other relatives and friends he had killed that same day. I didn't realise. I had not known anything but that kind of food, save for my mother's milk. Only when I started reading the books he threw in my cell, I understood. But that's all he was giving me, a tiny bit each day. Without that, I would have starved to death." She dared not look up for fear of catching their sentiments. "So I came to think of it lately and I realised that, considering the quantity of meat he gave me each day and the average weight of a human body, the start of the killing of your men coincides with the finishing of the twenty-third body. If you count the casual relatives in an average family and add some neighbours, that would probably be it. Between twenty and twenty-five… So I conclude he hunted Ser Royce down to… Well, to feed me, my lords."
She left the room silent. Her heartbeat was the only sound echoing through her skull. She felt like she did nothing but complain since she entered the room; all this pity around her childhood. Why couldn't they see how uncomfortable she was describing the gruesome facts and stop lowering their sight? She needed them to stare right at her, to be angry like she was, not ashamed. She was about to turn on her heels and walk out to leave them mull over when Thorne spoke up.
"Let's say we consent to consider your brother as the enemy we have been looking for all this time, would you please tell us how to get rid of him?" He hid his thoughts behind the frozen mask the wind blowing atop the Wall had built on him and raised an eyebrow to let her know he was finally disposed to listen deliberately. He didn't know it but he had actually given her the answer she was expecting at the beginning of their conversation: he said they didn't hear from Wilfrid until now… Hence she knew exactly what her move had to be.
"Yes, my lords, I can tell you how to kill my brother. You've got to let me leave this place horseback and armed and pray for my sake days and nights. That's all you can do my lords."
Jon uttered as she had expected. "That's pure folly and we all know it. Esmeralda alone could not hunt and kill a man skilled enough to savage more than twenty men of the Night's Watch. Far be it from me to doubt your courage and will but if he has the powers you talked about, there is no possible reason you would succeed, leastways by yourself. Let me go with her my lords." She whirled to catch his dark gaze. "You don't understand Jon, though we talked about it many times. You would leave both of us at risk. He would be able to somehow use one of us against the other, impelling us into protection rather than attack. And before you know it, we're both dead!"
"Are you calling me a dead weight?"
"I would never…"
"Oh shut up both of you!" Sam yelled at them.
But before he could recover from this self-assurance frenzy, Esmeralda had already returned her attention on the three men holding her liberty. Not that she was captive at the Night's Watch, she never were, never will be. She was well aware she could run off north and go find her violator's lair without anyone's permission. She was no brother, as she had been kindly reminded on numerous occasions, so it's not like she would break any oath. But she had said the words, secretly, Jon and Ghost for only witnesses. She had to. She could still hear her own voice pleading Lord Mormont on the night she had been brought before him for the first time, "Keep me. Keep me here and I'll drill until my fingers bleed. Instill the wisdom of battle in me, show me how to grow stronger, to gain ground. Grant me revenge. And when you estimate me ready, all you have to do is give me my freedom back." The amusement in his eyes, the twitch at the corner of his mouth, "I should not even be laying eyes upon you, lady. Castle Black is no place for tenuous girls… But you're far from tenuous, aren't you? And you won't give up until I give in. Well, I guess we can't just throw you out of here and leave you to die so as long as you respect our codes and don't come too close to the boys, I guess we could let you follow our practice. So, as of today, you are no wildling and will have to be treated as any of us: tough and fair. But do not forget: you are no brother and have no rights to become such." But she needed to. Her life had been nothing but darkness, cannibalism and abuse. She had then the opportunity to become part of something that was not controlled by her brother. She would not have missed that chance. So she made the promise to herself, and every men of the Night's Watch, to become someone, just that. Because that is all she needed to defeat her molester: turn into someone different, someone she wanted to be, someone out of his sway, someone unafraid of him. She knew she was ready but she yearned for their consent for she would not believe in her if they didn't. After all, she had taken the pledge and was part of them against their own knowledge and will.
"My lords, we are running out of time. It is him or me now for I will not go through the loss of another boy. I would much prefer die myself rather than seeing the sun set on one more familiar face coming back from the dead to take more lives. I may never be a brother but you're my family all the same and enough blood was spilled for my sake. I know these woods better than anyone in Castle Black and I am now skilful enough to challenge any man in this room in a sword fight and overwhelm him." She stared at Mormont, "When I arrived here, I begged you to teach me and to not release me until the day I would be ready to overcome my brother. I feel ready. The time has come. So I am asking you, Ser Thorne, Lord Mormont, am I?" All she could do now was holding her breath.
She could feel the doubt seizing everyone around her. That was good because it meant there was a chance they would concede. Jon and Sam's uncertainty was also focused on their final answer but they both feared they might say yes. In the following stillness, Esmeralda settled on retargeting her heed on Jon. She could easily put herself in others' shoes, especially in Jon's, and she knew the taste of the scary thoughts that were going through his head. She had been worried he would go off to get revenge from Joffrey when he learnt his father's death and she had dreamt herself kneeling before him, fighting to detain him. Making him go through this ordeal was the cruellest thing Esmeralda ever had to do in all her life. Actually, that was the hardest part of her scheme: wander the forest at night, locate the hideout, go for the throat; all this would just be intuitive. But face Jon and stand her ground, look confident, that was another matter. It was not like she could lie to him. Their bond had grown so strong they could talk without speaking, hear without listening, feel without trying. There was no way she would hide any doubts to him. So she ought not have any.
Thorne got to his feet, pulling her out of her focus. Her dearest brothers shuddered behind her. The look on his face was usually hard to decipher but it could not have been more recognisable now: sadness, plain sadness. So she had won. She waited for him to pace twice the length of the room and linger by the window sill, probably loathing his own desires, and let the Lord Commander unhurriedly lift his chin to peer right into her eyes. But his nod had not yet come to an end when she made her bow and darted towards the exit. She knew Jon would be right in her wake so she clenched her fists and didn't allow the slightest qualm to transpire from her attitude. She adopted a rapid cadence not to give him time to dispute the old men's decision. And by the time she had reached the postern between the tower court and the training grounds, he was a good fifty yards behind. She turned right after the gateway. Once out of his sight, she headed directly towards the stables, hoping he would lose some more time finding where she'd been. But he knew exactly what her plan was: get a horse, a sword and dash into the night of the Haunted Forest. It was all too simple anyway. So he met her there, her hands busy girthing her horse's saddle, making sure he'd get water and hay before the austerity of the frozen lands.
"Esmeralda, please be reasonable. Hear me out!"
But she would not. She could not. At any time now, he could make her give in; convince her to stay, or worse, to take him with her. So she blocked his voice out though it was the most precious thing she would have liked to keep in memory before never seeing him again. She pushed away misgivings as she pushed him out of her way out of the stall, the massive black dray horse trailing after her. Jon was purposely standing in her way, anticipating all her actions. After tying the reins to the iron ring in the wall, she started off for the armoury, not impressed by his remaining firmly in the middle of the aisle. She passed him by, hitting him with her shoulder. She felt she had gone too far moments before he grabbed her sturdily and shoved her against the wall. She closed her eyes under the violence of the impact and expected his fist; in the stomach, on the nose, not sure how much she had upset him. All she got was his mouth on hers. She opened her eyes out of surprise just to close them again. Flashes of fire and metal, water and blood, worry to joy, another kiss, another storm and soon the whole world collapsed just to leave place to every single time she had wanted this. No care if people were watching, no care if his lips were burning hers, if his fingers were pulling her thick dark hair, if his resolution now was destroying the thin determination she had left. All she could think of was how this moment was not the first but will be the last.
When he let go, he plunged deep into her green eyes and glimpsed there, for a split second, the great despair and insecurity she could not conceal. Her instinct ordered her to flee before he could work on that mood; so she shunted him aside and hurried to the armoury. But he was still refusing to give her up, standing in her way when she came back to strap her longsword to the saddle and stuff a dagger in the pommel bag while, on her back and at her hip, sat a Ranger sword and the sharp dirk which handle he had carved for her in the shape of a direwolf jaw. It was her favourite weapon; for it filled her with a wild strength every time she would skim over its wooden part. The material from her forest, the shape of the animal inside her and the man who had worked that jewel, more valuable to her than a crown to its king. She had promised herself she would give her brother his last blow with that knife.
"Please Esme, listen to me.", Jon was still trying to get through to her; with no much success. "You must know I'm right, we'd be stronger together and… You need me!"
That was one thing he didn't have to say. And he shouldn't have. She pierced him with her darkest glare, untied her steed and strode towards the exit in the most resolute fashion. She didn't need anyone. All she needed was her brother dead. She led her mount to the tunnel portcullis and climbed into her seat. None of her gestures was going unnoticed: the word of her leaving had spread fast from Sam to all Castle Black and the gate was being opened. Soon, a crowd gathered in the yard and took place behind Jon. The brothers she had shared meals with, the ones she had learnt from and then defeated, the others too creepy for her taste and all the rest she had never even spoken to. So many kids from so many different places and backgrounds and Jon seemed to stand for the ambassador to this ragged assembly.
"Why won't you even consider taking someone with you?" he asked loud enough for everyone to hear.
"I have considered it Jon" she answered louder. "And it happens to be the most dangerous and useless strategy of all."
"Then don't go!" he would not look elsewhere than inside her soul but his voice started flinching. "You're riding straight into Hell's maw. Stay!"
"Give me one and only one good reason I shouldn't leave." she challenged him. She did so because she knew very well what the reason of his torment was. And all too conscious he could not phrase it out here, in front of men who had memorised the vow by their blood. Surprisingly, it came out of another lad.
"Because we love you!" It almost sounded out of context but Pyp had burst the sentence before a consenting hubbub elevated from the mob.
Only Esmeralda could catch the echo that responded the general noise but the words did slip out of Jon's mouth as he stressed its first word. "I love you."
What happened in her heart was both elating and devastating. She had known it for a while but now was not the time to embrace it. It was too late. She had to go, at any cost, to protect her loved ones. Simply having loved ones was a good enough motive for her to fight. In that state of mind, many mean answers went through her head that she didn't actually think. But she had to reject him the harsher possible to keep him safe. Covered by the ambient clamour, she leaned towards him and murmured "You bastard boy? How can you love when you have never been loved in return?" She just had time to notice a tear swelling in his eye before spurring her horse and galloping away as fast he could manage, never looking back.
Jon fell to his knees, sending hints of dirt and snow flying around his body. As the wind bellowed the upcoming storm and the snowflakes started tumbling from the skies, the nightwatchers ran back to the safety and warmth of Castle Black's halls while the heavy latticed door was being shut down. His failure fell on him like the sword on his father's neck; for he had failed to keep her.