BoftheIceniBrethern here, I dicided to write another chapter on Irenya while I wait to continue the story, hope you enjoy.
The constant drops of the dank cells hummed her out of thought and speech. The few days she had been within the cage and chains like a beast, she oftern battled her captors and had all but brought out the nature she knew well of within her. The Dothraki will of survival. Battaling against the accusations her will screamed within her false. It is not what they say 'treason' to offer escape from death to people who bleed like us, it is not treason to offer a man peace instead the slaughter of his people when a bigger war is coming and it is not treason to fight for the life of the man your care of. Irenya shook her head bitterly at the images that flashed in her mind, the red snow, his pale and cold skin and his blank stare above them, the shallow breaths that escaped his lips as the dagger plundged deep with his gut. The memories of names she had been given, no longer one of the night's watch but a foriegn bitch and the commander's whore. Her body shook fiercely from the bitter breeze that swiftly entered the cell, causing to briefly close her eyes in pain, her skin stining and course and lips tinted blue, remembering her night watch cloak torn from her and tossed a large thin grey rag she clutched about her over usual deep bown almost black jerking that laced continuesly from top to bottom in the center and black breeches, her hair matted and damp hung loose framing her buised and battered face. Her distant eyes sprang to life as heavy footsteps stomped towards the cell, Irenya crouching defenseively as the gate creaked open and a bowl was tossed inside.
"Ere' foriegner. Enjoy." A man grinned revealing missing blackened teeth as Irenya glanced stonily through a half closed blackened eye at the contents spewed upon the floor. Potates abused into half mush and meat as frozen and cold as the cell, glancing back as his cackle run out and his foot steps faded leaving the dripping of the dankness to continue. Her withered and blue fingers reaching out at the bowl before pausing at batting it away, watching as it rolled and cluttered coming to a stop as she dragged herself towards the gate and wrapping her her now dainty hand upon the bars before her.
"Jon."