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MYRIAH
Myriah had seen men getting beheaded and she had seen men getting hanged on her command. She had seen men slowly dying in agony from their wounds, but never she had seen a person getting burned alive. Seeing how Mance Rayder's clothes slowly caught fire, how the flames climbed up his legs until they reached his hair, hearing his screams petrified her with horror. The arrow of mercy which Jon shot into his chest could not take that away.
Nightmares haunted her sleep for nearly a sennight. She dreamed of a burning man, who looked much like Robb. She heard horrifying screams and babies wailing in her dreams. And she visited to her in her dream strange places, while a voice inside her head told her that she had seen the halls and corridors before. Winterfell and Sunspear, she realized one morning, the two places that once had been my home.
Myriah had told Gilly about these dreams and the wilding girl was convinced that they meant something, although she had no clue what. After several hours of deliberation, Myriah came to the conclusion that they were simple fever dreams and nothing more than nonsense.
Yet, those dreams only made up a small part of the growing frustration she felt at Castle Black, the greater part was caused by the people inhabiting it.
There was bitter King Stannis. Every time Myriah thought of him she imagined how he sat on one table with his brother Robert and nodded agreeing when the late king chose her to become a ward of the Starks at the age of four, robbing the cowardly Doran Martell of his youngest child.
There was his wife, the Queen, who was ever more embittered than him. Myriah hated the snappish way she talked to her daughter.
The Princess Shireen was an unfortunate child. Born a girl she was not blessed with beauty, she was smart and good. Those were four of the five terrible things that could happen to a child combined, in Myriah's eyes.
Almost every men in the castle shot greedy looks at her, so she had to carry her uncle's dagger with her at all times. Some of these men even followed her, yet no one ever said a word.
There also was little Sam, Gilly's son. His laughs and smiles tended to upset Myriah so terribly, that she sometimes had to leave the room. She had always wanted a babe of her own. In fact, she had wanted Robb's children long before she had wanted Robb himself. During their nearly three years of marriage, her husband had gotten her pregnant twice. The first child Myriah lost before she even knew that she carried it. Whilst the second one had been a nameless girl, who had never drawn breath. She grieved over the loss of her little daughter more than she grieved over her husband.
The only person that could have given her any comfort was Jon, but he tormented her with his rejection. Whenever their eyes met he would look away immediately and if he walked past her, he acted like Myriah was not even there. It was hard for her to hold back her tears every time that happened. She had not seen Jon in so long and she had missed him terribly, more than anyone else. All Myriah wanted to do was to climb under his covers at night and fall asleep in his arms, like she did when they were children, for Jon could always keep nightmares and sorrows away.
