xi. the maiden

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┌─── ∘°❉°∘ ───┐

Jon had just finished his fifth cup of ale and his head was slowly turning dizzy.

He was to become a black brother, and Sam was as well. And Pyp and Grenn and Matt, and Albett and Halder and Dareon and Toad. Not a ranger but a steward, but that annoyance was at the far back of his mind. Right now all he could focus on was the music, the ale, and Elle sitting on the table beside him.

I loved a maid as green as spring

with sunrise in her hair

I loved a maid as white as winter

with moonglow in her hair


Over the voices of the over two dozen brothers roaring Jon could barely hear her voice, but what he could hear was enchanting. She sometimes looked down at him, the smile never leaving her face, even as Toad started bawling out the most horrendous of drinking songs.

The Dornishman's wife was as fair as the sun,

and her kisses were warmer than spring.

But the Dornishman's blade was made of black steel,

and its kiss was a terrible thing.


They all sang loudly, even Jon, who had never sung in his life. Something about the mixture of the alcohol, the heat, and his brothers stumbling over their own feet trying to dance really did it to him.

Perhaps she was taken

By the king's enemies

Dragons, Snakes, or even the Others

Perhaps she was mistaken

For a lone orphan child

And sent to one of the brothels


Dareon sang "Iron Lances", "The Seasons of my Love", "The Burning of the Ships", "The Wayward Princess", "The Dornishman's Wife", and a lot more songs that Jon didn't recognise. Elle, however, seemed to know them all by heart. Especially the more southern sounding tunes.

They got interrupted in their singing by a drunken Matt falling into Dareon, who lost the grip on his fiddle and dropped it on the ground. Thunderous laughter filled the room.

"Watching you trying to dance is like watching a fish trying to walk," Elle said with a laugh.

Matt got up from the floor, though not without trouble. "Then you do better, my lady," he slurred.

"Without a partner?" she said in a mocking voice. "What kind of lady would I be to dance alone?"

"Mayb's our Lord Snow would join you." Grenn's speech was even more slurred. "He seems like he's know a thing or two."

Elle smiled down at him, a question in her eyes.

Jon knew he shouldn't. Only lords danced with pretty ladies, and he wasn't one. But he did know how to dance - a long story that somehow ended with all of his siblings and Theon having lessons together - and with the alcohol in his blood the need to touch Elle won out.

"But only if it's a song I know!"

The men cheered, too drunk to fully understand the implications of what this kind of dance meant.

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