#shemerciless

[archivedwench]

          ONE, TWO. She can breathe in twos. Her muscles are twitching, stiff and aching. Her knees shake from the pressure of keeping herself upright and the wound on her cheek is aflame, searing and biting onto her skin. The bitter reminders of being alive.

One, two, now three. She breathes heavily in threes. They had dragged her out of her cell and into—another cave? Out into the forest? Was she inside or out, Brienne could not tell. What she knew, however, is that she needed her sword, Oathkeeper. A small panic rises in her throat. She had already lost Renly’s sword, she could not lose this one either. 

They shoved her forward, urging her to walk. Her knees are shaking, muscles twitching. She complied.

One, two— and her kneels falls into the dirt at the sight of HER. The air on her lungs have been punched out, all the pain in her body seems so minuscule compared to the blow. Oathkeeper lays in front of her just an arms reach away, the dirt and pebbles are under her knees but everything else seems so distant and detached.

How can this be? She was dead. Brienne mourned for her, yet here she stands. It was her--she was certain. Her features remained the same but the skin was replaced by rot and decay. The stench of death hung heavy in the air. If this is a dream, then this will be the most cruel one by far. Her teeth clenches down her chapped lips, pressing hard. If this is a dream, she will bleed then she will wake.

A small thin line of blood drips down her chin.

        One. Her voice cracks as she takes a ragged breath. ”Lady Catelyn—?”

@shemerciless || sc.

[wolveshonor]

@shemerciless gets a starter

Robb crouched beside the river to wash the blood from his hands. As the moonlight danced across the surface, as the dark, midnight blue turned briefly to scarlet, he caught sight of his own reflection: ghostly pale behind his dirty, matted beard and the scarlet slit of his throat when his cloak fell. He tugged it back up and stood. It had taken only a second for the blood to wash away, and that was longer than he gave the memories.

He turned back to his mother and walked across the camp until he’d found a log to sit upon and stoke the fire. The men they’d killed had not been at the Twins, but they were loyal to the Lannisters, and that was enough to leave their bodies scattered across the field. Robb felt no true relief now. They were dead; there was more to come, and there was no goal but to continue. To end. 

In the firelight, his mother’s face was lit with shocking clarity: a deadly, inhuman thing. They did not speak often, but he did wonder what she thought at times like this, in the moments of quiet, in the unnerving peace and the comfortable darkness.