Chapter 4: The Fall Into Madness

Betrayal is such an ugly word; it completely reflects its meaning.

I don't think I'd ever been betrayed. Yes, my life was devoid of any of the hundreds of incarnations of love. Yes, I found it painstaking to form even the most basic connections with the world in which I lived. Yes, I was very often sad, and felt alone more often than that. But I had never experienced the stab of true betrayal.

I should have been more thankful of that fact.

The first morning into our camping trip I woke up surprised that I had been able to sleep at all the night before. Sleep, though I'd often managed to trick myself into it, had a way of eluding me every night. I always assumed it was due to the constant buzz of my mind, and as far as I could tell I was right.

I was even more surprised to find Sophie and Steve already awake, making eggs on the stove top they'd brought.

When I sat down beside them Sophie didn't even acknowledge me. It was Steve who broke the silence, "We were starting to think you'd never wake up."

I squinted in confusion. The sun was barely coming up to the east; I couldn't have slept in that much. "Is it that late?"

"No," Sophie's voice was colder than the morning air.

An arm extended over to me, holding a plate with scrambled eggs on top as well as a fork. "Here, you'll need your strength."

I shot a weak smile in Steve's direction. "Thanks." The metal fork scraping the plastic plate was the only thing making any noise now. There weren't even birds singing in the distance to comfort me. Just make some small talk. That will get rid of this uncomfortable feeling. I finished the last few bites of my breakfast before making my attempt. "So how'd you guys sleep?"

Sophie's unfeeling voice sent a shiver down my spine, "We didn't."

"She was getting cold feet about today."

I let out a low chucked, "It's just a hike, Sophie. Nothing we haven't done before."

"Actually, Dahl, there's been a change of plans." Steve sat down from grabbing my empty plate, now holding a large hunting knife in his hands which he quickly passed to Sophie.

I straightened up, now almost perched on the log I'd been sitting. "Okay…"

When Steve stood up again his demeanor had completely shifted. Whatever veil he'd been holding up since we'd met seemed to fall away. "See, Soph told me all about how you tried to kill yourself." My muscles tensed as he continued, "And that got me thinking."

I turned to Sophie, unable to hide how annoyed I was that she'd told him such a personal detail about my life or how utterly baffled I was becoming. "You told him?"

Steve's voice bellowed over to me, "Don't talk to her." I leaned back, fear growing as he walked around the pit towards me. "Do you have any idea what you put her through? You were best friends, and you didn't bother talking to her, didn't even try to tell her what you were going to do."

I turned back to Sophie, my mouth slung open. I hadn't known she'd been so hurt by what I'd done. I didn't think it was anyone else's business what I did with my life. I didn't know she'd be hurt by it. When it had happened we hadn't spoken for months. Every time I made plans for us to talk she'd have to cancel at the last minute. I tried. I just got so tired of trying. I knew she wouldn't really care if I did it. "You were busy, and I didn't want to bother-"

Steve yelled at me louder this time as I felt his fist hit the side of my face, "I said don't talk to her."

I reeled back, my vision blurring as Sophie's frozen words came through, "It doesn't matter now." I saw her hazy figure get up from her seat and stand beside Steve. "It's going to bond us for life, right?"

"Right, babe. Together forever." I could hardly see their figures them kissing as I continued trying to figure out what in the world was happening today.

"What's going to?" I lowered my hand from my face, noting the red smudges on my fingers, my voice full of horror and concern, "What will bond you for life?"

"We're going to kill you," Steve answered, and then elaborated, "We're going to end your life, bury you out here, and no one is going to find you. No one will probably look, anyways. And if they do, they'll just think you killed yourself. That's what you want anyway."

I stood up, trying to stop my head from spinning as best I could. "What the fuck happened to you?" I glared over to Sophie as she had done to me a thousand times, only she truly warranted it. "Have you gone off the deep end?"

"You don't even want to live. You don't deserve to."

What had Steve told her? What the hell had happened to my friend? I'd read about this kind of psychotic phenomena, but was this real? This couldn't be real. The fog started to dissipate, and my vision began to clear. "Still doesn't justify murder."

"You were already dead, so it doesn't count."

I shot Steve the dirtiest look I could muster. "Are you really that stupi-What the?!" I felt a pinch on my arm. When I looked down I saw Sophie's manicured hand, with pink nail polish and daisies painted on the thumb, wrapped around the hunting knife that was now slicing through the skin mid-way up my forearm. I yanked my arm back, turning towards the forest. "Fuck!"

"She's getting away." Sophie, what happened to you?

"I'll get her."

"What do I do?" I couldn't make out Steve's reply. I was too busy getting the hell out of there.

I didn't hear anything after that for almost a minute, or at least it felt like it. I didn't want to hear anything, I just wanted to get as far away from them as possible and maybe find some help. A ranger, or a family or someone. Then I can try to process the clusterfuck of shared delusion that just went homicidal on me, but for now I need to run.

I ran faster than I ever did on my morning jogs. It wasn't difficult at first, but eventually I could feel it getting to me.

And though I might have escaped fast, but he was faster at pursuing me.

It felt like the harder I pushed myself the closer the footfalls behind me were getting, and that wasn't even the worst of my problems.

The cut on my arm was bleeding. Bad. The more I bled the more clarity was lost from my vision, but that's not what mattered. I needed to run. I needed to run faster. I needed to find the road and get the hell out of here. I just need to see well enough to not fall off any cliffs, or run into any trees. That and run. I needed to go faster.

A gunshot rang out just as the bark flew from a nearby tree, and I stumbled only to instantly pick myself back up to keep going.

That shot wasn't even a foot away from me.

Just keep running. That's all you can do.

That's a lie. I could always just stop and let the inevitable happen. I could face the betrayal of my closest friend. I could face the most severely fucked up person I'd ever had the displeasure of meeting. I could return to the noose that I'd only barely slipped out of a few months ago.

No. You can get out of this. You can survive. You came back before, there has to be a reason for that, right?

A hundred yards away I could see the makings of a clearing.

Is that my best bet?

My gut was screaming at me to head for it.

But I wouldn't have the cover of trees.

Shit.

I didn't have facts, not now. There was no information that I could pull up to make this choice any easier. There was nothing that could help me now. What's the use of remembering everything if it doesn't help me? What's the use of the doctors saving me if I just end up dying a few months later?

What's the point of any of this?

Fuck it, I'll go for the clearing.

When I finally decided I was already breaking through the last of the pine trees at a sprint, and in the distance I could see people.

Were they people? Or was it a bunch of bushes? No, they were moving around beside a larger blob. That must be a building of some sort, but out here? Who cares, the moving figures were people; they had to be people.

Real people. There was a large group of them, and horses too. Horses? I'll take it. I didn't slow down as I ran towards them, in truth I sped up. Salvation was just a few hundred yards away, and I needed to get there before another shot came my way.

My legs kept pumping and I got closer and closer. They were becoming clearer now; several men all dressed in renaissance gear.

LARPers…? Out here? Who cares? I'll take it.

Anyone would have done, I guess, regardless of their hobbies. As the men started becoming clearer to me I even felt confident enough to glance back.

Steve wasn't there. There was no sign of him at the tree-line either. The LARPers must have scared him off.

I slowed my gait steadily at this realization, and by the time I was within earshot of them I was at a light jog. "Help! Someone is trying to kill me!"

The men who were not already looking at me now had no choice but to look over.

"I was cut pretty badly." My hand now wrapped around the blood-soaked sleeve where Sophie had cut me.

The man who looked to be the leader of this group of LARPers stepped towards me as I closed the rest of the distance at a brisk walk. "My men will aid you."

One of the older men came to me next. "Are they far behind you?"

"I think you've all already scared him off," I huffed, pulling my injured arm tight to my body as a gust of wind chilled me. It must have been the blood-loss, because it had dropped about twenty degrees since I got into the clearing.

"This direction?" He stepped towards where I'd just came from, pulling his prop sword out slightly. It made the most realistic sound, I'd have sworn there was actually metal scraping against leather. The blade looked far too real as well. Before I could comprehend what I was seeing two other men started towards the woods.

"No, don't!" They looked back at me as I spoke, "He's got a gun. He'll kill you."

"Gun?" The older man looked at me as though I was speaking another language. These LARPers were serious about their craft, I had to hand it to them.

"He's just very dangerous." I looked back to the leader. "We need to get out of here, now."

The lead LARPer's face showed no worry as he spoke. "What is your name, foreigner?"

His accent was impressive enough to disrupt my train of thought for a few moments until I was finally able to mutter out a response. "Dahlia Emerson." I paused for only a split second before giving a small, if not weak, bow.

"You have my word, as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, we will take you to safety as soon as we can. But first we have a matter to attend to."

"Oh." I bowed slightly once more. "Of course, my Lord." Judging by the man in shackles and the beheading block not ten yards away, they were acting out Bran's first chapter. I scanned the group, trying to find someone who looked a little more normal, but also wanting to not be on the outskirts where a gunshot might more easily hit me. Eventually I maneuvered my way over to what I'd only assume were the Stark children, only they appeared older than they had been portrayed in the books. Still dead on, though. I tried to stand as properly as possible, shoulders back and everything, but the wound on my arm was making it difficult. It's not that deep, at least. You cut deeper than that. I quickly shook the thought out of my head and spoke to the boy nearest me, glancing over at 'Lord Stark' talking to the 'deserter' and speaking out of the corner of my mouth, "I'm a fan." He seemed confused by my statement, but I continued regardless. Frankly, I needed to talk to someone. My mind was racing all over the place and I had this utterly lonely feeling in my gut now that Sophie had betrayed me. Talking might help, even if I was talking to a bunch of nerds. "Who are you in all this?" Again a confused look crossed his face. "Wait, let me guess…" I scanned his features and immediately I knew. "Robb Stark, right?"

He broke his silence, "How did you know my name, foreigner?"

I smiled up at him, a rush of light-headedness hitting me. "You're almost exactly what I pictured him to be, if not exactly. Great cosplay choice."

My compliment was met by yet another confounded stare, so I turned back to the performance. The man spoke up, "You should look away. It is not a sight for a woman."

I glanced up to him. "I'll be fine." When I looked back to the scene I was just in time to see 'Lord Eddard Stark' raise Ice and in one quick swing…

The man's head fell.

That was… real blood. The head was… it wasn't on his body anymore.

What the hell just happened?

Did I run into another cult of crazies? Is there something in the water up here? What the fuck?

Without being able to control myself I lurched forward, vomiting up the eggs I'd nearly forgotten about in the fray. Then everything went black.

Author's Note: So, finally into A Song of Ice and Fire. Needless to say I am not George R. R. Martin, therefore I don't own anything. Basically, if you recognize it then it isn't mine, and if you don't then it's mine. Fair? Also, I'd really love some feedback at this point. I know that things got especially crazy in this chapter, and I'd love some input. I'd love to hear that I'm not alone in all of this mess. THANK YOU FOR READING! Please REVIEW!