The Fourth Lannister. [Jon Snow]

Why Tyrion Lannister Should Be Listened To

"Wildlings are scaling the Wall!" The voice screams, and I look to Jon in confusion. "There are hundreds of them!" His eyes are wide as he looks at me. Members of the Watch come out of nowhere, looking over the side of the Wall in terror.

"Jon, what's happening?" I ask him, my breath quickening as I realise that there is a possibility that I could actually be in danger. 

He places both arms on my shoulders, looking me in the eyes. "You need to go back to your room. Talk to no one, go straight down and into your room until tomorrow morning."

"But Jon-" He pulls me close and kisses me hard on my lips. I put a hand in his hair, the moment of confusion causing the kiss to last mere seconds.

"Elena, do this for me. If you stay up here you're in danger. Please go!" He says desperately, drawing out his sword as a hand clambers onto the corner of the Wall, beginning to hoist themselves up.

Not wishing to see any blood being spilt, I pick up the bottom of my dress in a scrunched fist, and run down the icy path behind me, retracing my steps to get back to the lift. 

I run through crowds of black cloaks crashing against men and women wearing fur pelts, the sound of swords connecting and screams of agony the only sounds in my ears.

My thoughts are blank, as my body races past corner after corner and piles of bodies dripping onto red stained snow to find the lift. I am greeted with a dead end as I turn yet another corner.

"Where is it!" I yell frustrated, turning quickly to see a woman coming towards me with a dagger in her hand. Defenceless, I back myself into the corner.

"What a lovely dress." She says sadistically, grinning with a mouth full of rotting, yellow teeth as she holds the dagger towards my neck.

Wordless, I try to disappear into the ice behind me as she slowly presses the dagger to my throat, her face inches from mine.

"It'll look even prettier on me!" She cackles, her dagger moving its way down to the pin in place on my dress. She gasps in delight as she fingers it. "A metal lion. This looks expensive! Craster will love this!"

"Elena!" A voice yells from behind the woman, and before I know it the woman falls to the floor, motionless as Samwell pulls his sword from her body, traces of blood scattered across the metal. He steps over the body I refuse to look at, holding a hand out to me.

I take it, and he begins to navigate through the many dead ends and lost corners. I shut my eyes tight, wishing to block out the sounds and sight of death. 

After five minutes he stops, and I crash into his back with a groan. I look up to see the problem, and am faced with a furious-looking Mormont, my brother standing with a glare on his face next to him.