BLACK WOLF - GoT [s1 - s4]

011 - prettier than a mole town whore

"I threw myself to the wolves, only to learn of the tenderness in their howl, and the loyalty of their blood." - isra al-thibeh

——

    Nightfall. A frozen wasteland every single night, the air was barely breathable, freezing Erik's lungs into solid matter. However, the boys heart was still warm. His intrigue doubled in size since meeting the mysterious woman in the dining hall.
    The Iversen boy leaned on his walking stick, a sword clutched in his opposite hand. He was watching a demonstration of parrying in a life or death situation. The instructor, a beaten-down man with scars covering most of his wrinkled skin, demonstrated most common moves used in battle.

    "Iversen!"

    Erik found himself staring at the ground, lost in a sea of his own thoughts. He flicked his head up immediately, meeting the disappointed glare of his instructor. A handful of his peers snickered, muttering snide comments to each other.

    "Yes, Sir?" He called out.

    The instructor ran his tongue over his teeth, moving aside and pointing his sword into the middle of the circle. "You're up first."

    Erik fought the pit in his throat, stepping forward with as much confidence as he could muster. He flipped his sword in a circle, glaring menacingly for a foe he could fight.
Grenn was a decent man, giving a fair chance to Erik whenever they duelled. He volunteered himself, stepping forward and drawing his sword. Grenn gave a curt nod, respect flashing into his eyes.
The match commenced, Grenn played a defensive role, allowing Erik to improve his craft. He slashed his sword, swiftly moving between each attack. Grenn slowly immersed his way into an offensive position. Erik dodged the best he could but gradually lost the battle, having his throat 'slashed' open.

"Too slow. You'll die out there." The instructor calmly said.

Erik's joints began to ache, whining inside his flesh. Grenn patted his leathered shoulder supportively.

"Next two!"

Erik returned to his spot, genuinely focusing on improving as he spectated the continuous sword matches.
In the corner of his good eye, he spotted the unique woman. She was fighting the same man with the jet black curly hair. Erik was hypnotized, her every move was deliberate and precise. The man was working slow around her, allowing openings and weak spots on his body. He was finally thrown to the ground, his ankle kicked out from under him.

    The woman extended her hand to the man. "I know you are better than that."

    He chuckled, allowing her to help him up.