Here's one little chapter. I hope you will enjoy. Next one will be Sansa's.
Theme song: "The Wolf", Siamès
Do not hesitate to tell me what you think about it!
Good reading!
A Man in the Snow I
Snow. Cold, hard snow. Slipping through his fingers, through his hair. Biting his cheeks, making him sick.
How he hated that white powder. It seemed to have followed him all his life, like some sword ready to fall on his head. Snow like the place he was born, snow like the name they gave him. The name of the dishonor of one man and one woman, fornicating without care of property. He was the child of that dishonor, a tainted child. He had learned to think as much. He had learned to live with the blood of lord and one of some unknown woman, some woman whose identity he was desperate to know, as if it would change anything. As if knowing who she was could change what he was, could change his destiny.
They told him a bastard had no destiny. Look at the Blackfyres, they said. See what happened when their father the King legitimized them. Look at the chaos they made.
He had only few ways to be anything else, people told him. Either to go to the Night's Watch. Or to serve as one soldier, hoping to elevate himself in the great wars that would be coming. In both ways, he could die without name, no one would really care.
Unexpectedly, he had raised.
But everything he did brought him where he was now. In this white hell, far away from the place where he was raised. Far away from the place where he thought everything was possible.
Where was he now? He did not know anymore. All he knew as that there had been fire, there had been death. Deaths by him, deaths by others. And a warning. 'Fire and Blood'. It rang back in his head like a prophecy and stayed stuck on it since. He had run then, run until he reached sea. And when he reached it, he stole the first boat and rowed, rowed, as if the Others themselves were running after him.
He had fought them once. Yet, he still felt the cold on his neck, and the smell of rotting bodies in the snow in his nostrils. He had felt strong then. Strong and with a purpose. At that time, that kept him going, even when it was thought that all was lost. It couldn't. He would have been ready to jump into a dragon's mouth just to prove this point. It couldn't end like this.
That was why he forced himself not to feel fear. To keep that hope alive, like a fire that needed feeding.
The Others were not what he feared, no. It was the hunger, and the oblivion that came slowly with it.
He was waiting quite a long time, now. One hour? Maybe two? He couldn't really figure this out, the hunger and the cold progressively numbing his mind and body. It did not matter, for at the moment, he could only think of survival.
A boy was roasting a fish near the cave where he had taken refuge, five feet before him. Maybe no more than eleven.
He waited, but no one came. Was this boy an orphan? He thought. It seemed that nobody was coming for him. He had the same clothes as the freefolks, and yet, could he be so sure now, after all that happened?
And that smell… That smell was a sweet torture in that cold and hard night.
He walked forwards, slowly, as if not to wake a babe on his mother's arms.
The boy began singing. His song talked about heroes and kings, maiden and warriors.
Not for him. Not anymore.
People had thought he was brave. That he was kind, compassionate and just. People, who had treated him as a bastard, as a nuisance. This time, they were following his orders, and he felt like a king. The king he had always wanted to be. They had chosen him to lead. And lead, he was prepared to.
Once upon a time, he had tried to do just that. To be the man people wanted him to be, a man that will be remembered. A man alike the one who had raised him. He had almost believed he could be like that, like the heroes he looked up to. The heroes he found in books, and the ones who appeared in his life later on.
This was what led him here. That vision, though pretty, was deceiving.
Heroes were no more. And now, he wouldn't try to be one. It had already cost him so much.
He looked one more time at the boy, at his terrified eyes.
Kill the boy, a voice in his mind said. A stranger's voice, tempting him so.
Would heroes do that? He wondered as he succeeded on getting behind him.
He slashed the boy's throat and watched him bleed silently to death. He did not even feel anything as his eyes went from afraid to empty, and never left his face, with a unanswered question on his lips.
He pushed him back and looked no more. It was done.
He ate the fish, savoring every bite of it. The flesh was juicy and tasty, and it seemed to him that it was the best meal he ever had. And he had been invited in many castles… The bones clicked on his teeth pleasantly, and he used the bigger one to seek out the pieces that were stuck in between his teeth.
His meal eaten, he buried the boy in the snow, and suddenly, guilt assailed him.
In this cold tomb lied his childhood, he thought. In this cold tomb rested his dreams of chivalry, of songs and glory.
What had they lead him to?
'Fire and Blood'
He knew what that meant, now. He knew the price. He had learned it begrudgingly, at first, but now. It was like it was imprinted in all of his being.
He was now reborn again. New blood in his veins, and a heart that was better-kept now. And eyes more acute now.
He was not the same anymore. He was someone else entirely. Someone new. Someone dangerous.
Someone who would stay alive. No matter the cost, no matter the losses. No matter the pain in his heart, in his mind and in his bones. He would survive, if only to see…
He heard a horn. People were coming. He had to go, and quick. He stepped up, took his last belongings and ran as quietly as he could.
He had to go farther north, he remembered. Farther north was the answer to his last questions. He had to find someone, something.
What? He wondered. He did not know clearly. Just that it was here, waiting for him. And that if he looked back now, they would find him instead.
He heard a woman's cry. But he did not look back.
Let her cry, he thought. It was only mercy. That boy would never feel hunger again. Never feel again. Never lose himself to delusions.
In the sky, he saw two crows flying. He ran faster. But he could not go faster than them. He stopped, when he was sure that nobody had followed him. That nobody could see him.
Crows were dangerous. They were intelligent, sneaky birds. Who knew what information they could transmit? What secrets they could divulge?
Who knew who could look through their eyes?
He took his bow and arrows and aimed.
One, two. He breathed. Then let the arrow take its course.
He heard the little noise of the two crows falling. Good. That was good. Only with one arrow. In another life, he would have been euphoric. He ran towards them, then froze.
One of them was alive. The arrow had only touched its left wing.
It croaked back at him. He looked at it in its small eyes, and felt rage boiling inside him.
Die, he wanted to shout. Die.
He took a stone and hit the bird with it. It struggled quite some time, blow after blow. But then, it was no more. Only blood, brain and a few feathers. And a message, with two words on it.
'Jon Snow". A name from the past.
It could be of any use, he thought, as he slipped it into his pocket.
He stood back, ready to run again.
He tripped on something and cursed. But his curse was cut short when he reached the damn object that had made him fall.
He saw the sword, and the handle with the characteristic wolf on it. It felt like years ago, like some other life entirely. One where he almost found a home, love and glory. One where he belonged.
He was afraid to touch it. As if touching it would mark him as unworthy of his previous owners.
Would he dare try? His hands were shaking almost with anticipation, almost from the frost who had bitten his fingertips.
He heard a slight crack in the snow. Too light to be a human's step. Maybe some snow lion.
Maybe a wolf. He raised his head, looking out for the culprit. He would not show fear. Not this time. Not once.
Fear was for the past.
He saw red eyes following him, but he couldn't make sense of it. He almost thought it was a hallucination. White fur, like snow.
Once again that damn snow. He glared at the beast, preparing himself to fight to the death.
But then recognition ignited his eyes and he looked down.
It was gone, now. He was all alone. All alone with his thoughts.
What a terrifying thing, he realized. Because it made him remember what had been. Everything that brought him here. All his hopes and dreams. And then, the battlefield, the ruins of what had been once the most important thing for him.
He had betrayed his queen.
He had loved her. But that love was murder. It killed him inside, eating away all his hopes and dreams, until it became the one and only. The only thing he could live for. The only thing he could die for.
And no one had ever noticed, he thought with a bitter smile. Why would they notice that he was becoming a shell of his former self?
He had betrayed her. But he loved her still. And, maybe, she didn't even know this.
The image of her beloved face came to his mind, he cried. He could still smell her perfume, full of summer and lemons, and the fire that surrounded her. He could still feel her eyes on him when he met her. When he bent the knee, and she smiled at him.
Did she feel the fire in his heart too? He had thought at the moment.
Now she would never know, he thought. She would never know how much he cared. How the sight of her with a crown thrilled him secretly as much as it pained him. How he felt the distance growing stronger, so much that he felt he had no chance of reaching her anymore. Of reaching that slight and grand silhouette that carried with her all the burdens of his country. How much he regretted what had happened. How the memory of her voice kept him going. How he remembered the precise way she would laugh.
Now, she would laugh no more, no. Not after everything that happened. After the chaos that prevailed now.
Would she even care if he tried?
Would she even recognize him?
The traitorous thought stopped him. He shook his head, trying to let go of it. No, he couldn't even think of it.
Would she forgive him for weakness?
He could've been by her side, by now. If only he hadn't…
He shook his head. Now was not the time to regret any more.
But maybe, now, with this sword, he could be stronger. He could find a way to go back in time. To find a place, a moment where he could be with her. He relished in this thought. He LIVED for this thought. Hope blossomed in his heart just as it left him when all fire and arms destroyed it all.
One day, he would find her again. One way or another. With magic if he had to. He would find her, and she would be his.
And this time, no one would ever stand on his way.