Falling Like || Jon Snow

07| 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔯

castle black, the wall

— THE CORRIDORS BENEATH CASTLE BLACK WERE ALMOST ALWAYS DEAD SILENT. Tonight though, the eerie quiet was broken by the sound of boots against the stone floors. They halted only for a moment, replaced by a split-second jingling and then the heavy scraping of metal of keys turning in a lock, and the cell door swung open. The wildling prisoner looked up, surprised when he was met with the sight of a woman in a black cloak with a tray of food and water. The Huntress.

"Have you come to finish me off, then?" he asked, voice rough from disuse.

She watched him with eyes surprisingly devoid of any cruelty or sadistic intent. "No." She replied calmly. "I'm not a murderer."

He scowled. "The tales say otherwise."

"The tales get a lot of things wrong." She set the tray on the ground, near enough for him to strike her despite the shackles bottling him to the walls. There was no fear in her face, no hesitation in her movements. He watched her with curious and confused eyes. "Like the White Walkers being dead?"

He broke from her gaze at that, staring instead at his boots. "I will tell you nothing. I will die here either way."

She sighed, rising back to her feet. "No, you won't. I've spoken with the Lord Commander and his officers and reasoned for your release. I will set you free a league or two North of the Wall in the morning."

His head snapped up to scan her with suspicion. "What? ... Is this some kind of trick? To make me talk?"

"No. Believe what you will of me, but we are all human. I don't believe in cruelty, nor in killing a defenceless man. You'll be freed to stand a fighting chance of surviving alongside your people."

She turned, but only set one foot outside the door before he called out to her. "Huntress." she stopped, glancing back at him to find a begrudgingly grateful look on his face. "I believe in fairness. Just like you. So I will tell you one thing; when the walkers come... I don't think your Wall will stop them. Fight and die for these men who wouldn't fight and die for you... or run for your life." she turned that bit of information over in her mind for a second before nodding. She left then, closing and locking the door behind her.

When Nymeria came up into one of the courtyards, she decided to take a quick peek into the stables, checking on Benjen's horse. The animal seemed alright now, far less afraid. She gave him a little stroke on the neck, a little scratch on his nose and then headed up to her chambers. She was on the walkway only a door or two down from her own when she heard the voices from below. It sounded like arguing, and when she peered into the darkness, she saw that the castle gate was open. A horse stood nearby, and near it, Samwell was speaking panickedly with Jon Snow.

"People will come after you!" she heard him say. "Do you know what happens to deserters??"

"Better than you do."

"Oh, what are you going to do??"

"I'm gonna find my brother, put a sword through King Joffrey's throat." She remembered the raven from Winterfell about Robb Stark riding out to war against the Lannisters. And another from King's Landing about the execution of Eddard Stark. 'The Traitor' they'd called him, but she'd scoffed. Lord Stark would never be a traitor. She didn't care much for the muss and fuss of the south, but she knew what the lot of them were like. This was some sort of Lannister-orchestrated scheme, or she was Lord Commander. Despite Sam's protests, she watched him ride out of the gate. What an idiot. But he was her friend now, which made his idiocy her problem.

With an irritable huff, she made her way down to the courtyard. Sam paled when he saw her coming, but she only jerked her head up towards the sleeping chambers above. "Grab your friends, Grenn and Pyp. We'll haul him back by his pretty pretty hair if we must." Sam's expression brightened with hope, and nodded vigorously before hurrying up the steps to do as he was bid. Meanwhile, Nymeria readied the horses. While she fastened her saddle strap, her eye caught a flash of steel leaning against the gate. Longclaw. She huffed an irritable breath as she stalked over to grab the blade, shoving it the rest of the way back into its sheath. As the other three came running breathlessly out, she swung up into her saddle, taking the reins with her free hand. "Let's go."