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her soul is fierce. her heart is brave. her mind is strong.
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Jon Snow could not banish the image from his mind. Hermione's eyes had been wide, filled with terror, but it was her appearance that had truly haunted him. There she had stood before all of Castle Black, Leo silent and clinging to her hip, dressed in nothing but a sodden shift. The once-pure white of the fabric was now sullied with heavy streaks of blood, which clung to her like a shroud. Bruises, dark and morbid, had overtaken her skin, turning from yellowish hues to shades of black. New marks, cruel and jagged, marred her neck and arms, each a testament to her suffering.
Jon had stood rooted, questions crowding his mind, but none escaping his lips: What in the Seven Hells had transpired? Why was she so far from Winterfell? What blood stained her clothes? How had she come to Castle Black with no sign of transport—no horse, no carriage, only a ghastly trail of bloody footprints?
The way she had whispered his name before collapsing into his arms had sent a shiver of dread through Jon. Cold terror gripped him as he carried her and the small Leo to Maester Aemon's laboratory, his cries for help echoing through the icy corridors. The entire castle had erupted into hushed murmurs; recruits and men of the Night's Watch watched in horrified silence as Jon bore the broken girl away.
"Stay with me, Hermione," Jon murmured desperately as Maester Aemon swung open the door, allowing him to lay her upon the cold wooden workbench before being ushered out.
She had been colder than the North itself, her skin like ice, as if blood had turned to frost within her veins. Jon's mind was a tumult of fear and hope, clinging to the frail hope that she might live. The Lord Commander, Thorne, and even Tyrion Lannister had gone in to see her, returning with nothing but grim silence.
Hermione's face had been a grotesque canvas of blood and tangled hair, but her eyes—those fierce, burning eyes—had seemed alive, glowing with a gold fiercer than the sun.
The door creaked open once more, and Benjen emerged, Leo cradled in his arms. "The Maester will see you now."
"Is she all right?" Jon leapt to his feet, his heart racing with the dread of what awaited him beyond the door. He feared what he might find—whether it would be a breathing girl or a lifeless corpse.
