⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀twelve

7K 428 126
                                    





twelve. state of decay

 state of decay

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

loc. castle black, the wall. 298AC.



⠀⠀⠀"What do you want?"

⠀⠀⠀Carsen had long since stopped expecting an answer, but she couldn't help asking. Rogon never replied. Once, he opened his mouth, but all that poured out was a fountain of ice—crushed ice, some melted already, with indistinguishable faces swimming in the chunks of frozen water. It surged over her feet, but she felt only a shadow as it passed over her flesh, like the ghost of a hundred spiders' scuttling legs.

⠀⠀⠀Rogon appeared everywhere. The first few times had Carsen so shaken she had to excuse herself on the grounds of illness or injury, but now his visits were, although deeply resented, frequent. Carsen would never be used to seeing his blank, milky gaze when she happened to glance up from tying her shoe, or looked in an empty doorframe to find it wasn't so empty after all, but she was almost expecting him by now.

⠀⠀⠀It had been three days since he appeared first, and he scarcely left her alone. He sat next to her at supper and breakfast, stood before her whilst she was lacing her breeches in a separate room, beside her as she hacked at her hair, which was growing out again, with scissors.

⠀⠀⠀The worst part was, she was almost completely alone with her dilemma.

⠀⠀⠀Since she had attainted the title of a Ranger, Jon had been stiff and distant with her. It wasn't real anger, she knew, only envy and hurt and frustration at the injustice Thorne was serving. Sam seemed to have grown more fond of the bastard than her, and spent most of his time waddling after Jon than he did with her. Even Pyp had grown distant, which Carsen assumed was because, crumbling under sleepless nights and Rogon's pale, dead eyes freezing her skin, she had beat him hard into the ground during training. The poor boy had nursed a cracked rib and a resentful attitude to her ever since.

⠀⠀⠀So she wandered the halls alone, sat alone, talked to nobody but Rogon. He made for lonely and very unsettling company.

⠀⠀⠀Carsen wondered if this was what going mad felt like.

⠀⠀⠀Once, in passing, she had caught sight of herself in Mormont's looking glass, and scarcely recognised herself. Circles dark as night arched under her tired, dull eyes; her cheeks were hollowed, her lips chapped and scabbed, her skin the unhealthy pigment of curdled milk, as if all the colour had been soaked up from it by the bitterness and coldness and filth at the Castle Black.

⠀⠀⠀She'd missed at least three training sessions with Jon as well, and felt her energy draining out of her. She didn't know if Jon waited for her down in the courtyard each night, because she was, to her grim surprise, spending all of her free time in the east corridor—where she had killed Rogon.

⠀⠀⠀She often just sat against the wall, her head against the wall. It was where she sat now, eyes closed.

⠀⠀⠀The corridor had been deserted when she'd shut her lids.

⠀⠀⠀It wasn't when she opened them.

⠀⠀⠀She felt him before she saw him, felt the unnatural chill radiating off his frozen skin.

⠀⠀⠀"What do you want?" she whispered, her voice cracked and broken. Rogon only tilted his head in reply, unblinking eyes following her.

⠀⠀⠀"Go away," she whispered. "Go away!" Her voice rose until she was screaming, echoing off the stone walls. She felt hot tears on cold cheeks.

⠀⠀⠀Rogon gave no response to her shriek. Just those pallid eyes, blank irises indifferent, uncatching. Carsen felt herself begin to sob, burying her head in her knees. She wasn't sure what she was crying for - for herself, for what she had lost. The pain was deep, a hard, cold knife in her stomach. She wanted to rip out her hair with her fists until her scalp was scabbed and bloody. She wanted to scream until her throat was raw. She wanted to hit the walls until the wood shattered, and Castle Black collapsed around her, burying her and all her troubles under the wood. She wanted it all to stop.

⠀⠀⠀She was still crying when she heard the footsteps.

⠀⠀⠀Hastily, she wiped the water from her eyes and tried to get her stuttering breathing under rein again as she glanced up. She was partly unsurprised to see Jon come round the corner a few seconds later.

⠀⠀⠀She looked back down at her knees as she heard him grow closer, but even the sound of a man moving closely by her was enough to make her skin crawl, and for her to shift away. She prayed he would move on, but she felt his weight slide down the wall beside her. He was very tall, she noticed with sudden disquiet. Not the biggest or broadest man at Castle Black, certainly, but packed with wiry strength beneath the boiled leather and chainmail. Much taller and stronger than her.

          She forced this train of thought away with revulsion. Jon would never hurt her, she knew that.

But he could, persisted that little voice. If he wanted to...

⠀⠀⠀"You've missed six of Thorne's training sessions," Jon said flatly, making her start. "He's talking of revoking your position, giving you to the stewards."

⠀⠀⠀Carsen didn't look up. She couldn't.

⠀⠀⠀"You shouldn't have been a Ranger," Jon spat suddenly. "It's not fair. The only reason you're better than those men out there is because of me. If I hadn't trained you, you'd still be getting kicked into the ground." Carsen looked at him blankly. "I'm better than you. I'm better than all of you! I've stopped saying it, but that doesn't mean it's not true."

⠀⠀⠀Carsen still only looked at him. Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, but she refused to let them spill. Jon detested her, as she knew he did.

⠀⠀⠀Jon swallowed. Carsen could already see the regret stealing over his face as he looked at her properly. He looked at her bloodshot eyes and the red marks on her cheeks and tearstreaks cutting through grime and sweat and blinked. "Have you been crying?"

⠀⠀⠀She hit him.

⠀⠀⠀The blow reddened his cheek immediately, and Carsen felt her own face slacken in surprise. She shoved herself away from him, away from the returning punch, but it never came. Jon simply touched his flushed cheek in shock and looked at Carsen with wide round eyes, the sort of expression a kicked puppy would wear. It made her feel ten times worse.

⠀⠀⠀Backing away slowly, then gradually faster, Carsen stumbled to her feet and fled.










⠀⠀⠀

CARPE NOCTEM, jon snowWhere stories live. Discover now