TW: mentions of attempted s/a
castle black, the wall
— JON COULDN'T TAKE IT ANY LONGER, HE THOUGHT. Perhaps he'd been blind to Nymeria's true feelings, but he'd always been grateful to have her around... maybe even more than he'd paid attention to. He remembered training with her for the first time, how she'd smiled at him. She'd been there when he said his vows before the Weirwood. She'd dragged him back to the Wall when he'd nearly forfeit his life by trying to leave. She'd given up Longclaw, a piece of her family, of her father to him. She'd fixed him up after Craster's beating, refusing to leave him in such a way even when her grandfather ordered her to. He remembered her concern, her gentle touch, her scolding looks when he'd tried to stand when he shouldn't have, or flinched away from the alcohol-soaked rag. More recently, he remembered the warm healing hands, gentle voice and doe eyes that brought him back when he was full of arrows. It felt like a dream, but somehow he knew it wasn't.
Now, with a single stroke of stupidity, he'd ruined everything. She no longer looked him in the eyes. They did not speak. When he entered a room, she would leave it. She was right there before him, and yet he missed her so terribly.
Who would have thought that his salvation would come in the form of a summons from Alliser Thorne. It was lunch when he arrived before the head table in the hall, meaning that the room behind him was full as well... and somewhere in there was Nymeria.
"Your foray to Craster's Keep..." Alliser said. "I'll sanction it. But I won't order anyone to go with you. Volunteers only."
"Thank you, Ser Alliser." His words were bland. He knew what this was; if no one was willing to go with him, he'd face the mutineers alone. They'd kill him, and Thorne would never have to deal with him again. With that in mind, he descended the steps from the head table to face the rest of the Hall.
"Brothers." he tried. Aaand nothing. They kept on chatting amongst themselves. Then Grenn grabbed his cup from the table, slamming it down repeatedly until everyone was paying attention, silent as they'd ever be, at least until they died. Jon took a deep breath. "I'm going beyond the Wall to Craster's Keep." Nymeria's eyes lifted now. After so long without even a glance, they weighed heavy on him. He continued. "I'm going to capture the mutineers holed up there or kill them. I'm asking for volunteers to come with me. There's 60 miles of wilderness between here and Craster's, and Mance Rayder has an army bearing down on us, but we have to do this. Our survival may depend on us getting to these mutineers before Mance does. They know the Wall. They know our defences. If Mance learns what they know, we're lost. But if that's not enough... then consider this. If the Night's Watch are truly brothers," his gaze finally locked with Nymeria's, he didn't find anger there. He didn't find hate, or disgust. He found the friend that he'd missed. He found her grief. He found a granddaughter who'd lost too much, who was grateful that she was not alone in her loss. His eyes did not leave hers. "Then Lord Commander Mormont was our father. He lived and died for the Watch. And he was betrayed by his own men, stabbed in the back by cowards." her eyes shone slightly, but beneath it, a pinprick of anger had begun to grow. "He deserved far better. All we can give him now... is justice. Who will join me?" The silence lasted a small eternity. Then Nymeria rose to her feet. Her eyes stared straight into Jon's. Determined. Grateful. And as she nodded to him, he felt a stitch of relief. He could practically feel the silence between them melt away. Things would be alright. Grenn got to his feet next. Then Edd. then Blackjack. Finn. Dallin. Crod. By the time the volunteers had come to an end, Jon had at least a dozen men, and Alliser looked far less smug than he had just moments ago. "Thank you, brothers."
°
Jon was not expecting Nymeria's bear cub – who now looked more about the size Ghost had been the last time he saw him – to accompany them. But she assured him it was perfectly safe. Wren was a good hunter, she was learning to fight, and her loyalties belonged unshakably with Nymeria, the one who'd saved her. No one could deny she'd be an asset, and Thorne didn't want her at the Wall.
The trip to Craster's was two days. Two days that Nymeria spent silent more often than not, hunting or keeping watch. Where she normally would've engaged with the others, talking and laughing quietly around the fire, she kept her distance and kept her guard up. Her eyes scanned the surroundings, but her mind was obviously on the task ahead. Jon couldn't blame her. He only had his imagination to go on to determine what had happened the night of the mutiny. Same as his father's death. Same as his brother's. But what he imagined would play on a loop, again and again, haunting him. Nymeria had watched Rast stab her grandfather in the back. She'd watched him fall, felt his life slipping through her fingers. Of course she was changed.
Her eyes grew deadlier the nearer they rode, and the day they arrived at Craster's and sent a man to scout, he approached her.
"You're ready?"
She nodded, fiddling with the hilt of her dagger. "I am."
He turned his eyes in the direction of the keep. "...we're not taking prisoners, are we?"
She shrugged. "You can do as you like. I'll do as I like." she glanced back at the group, lifting her voice slightly. "That goes for all of you. Take who you want, kill who you want. But Rast and Karl are mine." they all nodded.
Jon fidgeted slightly. "Nym... I wanted to tell you-"
"You don't have to say anything." her voice was surprisingly soft as she turned to him. "You don't owe me anything Jon; you never did. I'm just grateful that you're here now, that you've brought us here to serve justice."
Before he could reply, another voice caught their attention. "Brothers." they all turned to see their scout had returned – Locke, the Watch's newest brother. Nymeria hadn't decided what to make of him yet.
"You do move quiet." Jon spoke. None of them had heard even a twig move as he approached. "How many?"
"Eleven men, most of them already drunk. No guards posted. They don't seem to have a care in the world. Well carve them up like walnut pie."
"Karl was the top paid cutthroat in Flea Bottom." Grenn piped up. "I've seen what he can do with a knife."
"And he's about to see what I can do with a knife." Nymeria replied coolly. "We've covered this. Leave Karl to me."
Locke gave her a look as if he were trying to assess her before returning to the point at hand. "There's a hut on the west side of the keep. We should steer clear of it."
Jon frowned. "Why?"
"They've got some hounds chained up inside. Closer we can get without the dogs sniffing us, the better."
Nymeria's eyes turned up to the sky. "New moon tonight." she murmured.
Jon nodded with a sigh, "Get some rest." he told the others. "We move at sundown."
°
The sun had gone. Inky blackness wove between the trees, and Nymeria and Jon led the charge, a snarling young bear on their heels. Nymeria didn't utter a sound as her blades unsheathed on the first man. He brought a sword down towards her, but he was too slow, her blades in her hands and plunged deep into his guts before he could land a single hit. She ripped them free, spinning to crash against the sword of another mutineer, sliding quickly down to the base of the blade, forcing him to release it when they struck against his hands. He yelped, and Nymeria kicked him down, throwing a dagger into his skull. She dispatched another before her eyes locked on Jon. he was fighting one of the men easily, but didn't see the second creeping up on him. With a yell, she flung her second dagger. It buried itself in the man's throat, and Jon turned just in time to see him fall. He looked to Nymeria, nodding his gratitude, but his eyes widened when she was suddenly tackled by another mutineer. She was unarmed now, and he'd caught her by surprise, her head spinning after hitting the ground. She gave a strangled grunt as she strained to keep the hand holding his sword pinned. Suddenly, he wrenched it free. Her heart pounded as the sudden overwhelming sense of being utterly alone washed over her. Your grandfather's gone. No one is here to save you anymore.
A loud snarl broke her from her thoughts, and suddenly, the man was ripped away. Wren's jaws were locked around the back of his neck, and she shook him violently until he was dead. When she ambled over to Nymeria's side, she nudged something over the dirt towards her. Her dagger. Nymeria took it with a small smile, scratching the bear behind her ears. "Thank you."
Jon watched from across the field as she ripped her other dagger from the skull of the dead man behind her, then turned, a sick, twisting, panicky feeling grabbed hold of him, and suddenly, he wasn't so sure he wanted to let her go alone.
Inside, Nymeria found Karl finishing off a brother. He paused when he heard her enter, then withdrew his daggers to let the body fall. His eyes were full of a mixture of smugness and hunger when they found hers, and he spread his arms wide – knife in each hand – in a mock bow. "Lady Mormont." he tilted his head as he paced slowly around the fire. "So? You here to take me back for a trial?"
Her features twisted into a sneer. "No. You're not going anywhere. I'm going to kill you tonight. Here in this room."
"You're gonna try." He smirked. "And I'm gonna fuck you with your own dagger."
"You killed my grandfather. Your Lord Commander." she snarled. "I'll not be bested by a fucking cunt."
Karl leapt forwards, mouth split open in a nasty wide grin that showed all his teeth. Nymeria's knives clashed with his and they spun around one another quickly before retreating away, weapons raised, guards up high. He rasped a chuckle, then lunged again. Nymeria must have parried his blades about six times as they danced about the room, careful of the flames in the centre. Karl was fast. So was Nymeria. Each of them seemed to be perfectly capable of anticipating the other's next move. "You learn to fight in a castle?" Nymeria hissed as he landed his first hit, a clean swipe across her cheek. "Your precious grandfather taught you how to fight with honour?" his blades came down and she parried, then spat in his eyes and kicked out his knee. He fell down onto it with a yell of pain as she took a few steps back, breathing hard.
"Aye. It was the Watch that taught me how to fight dirty. You should know." He came at her again, and she rolled away.
"I should, eh?" he grinned. "Why's that, little lady?"
"Because you were there." she snapped the last word as she began advancing now instead, forcing him to take the defensive. "They pulled me from my bed!" she struck again. "They dragged me into the courtyard! I saw you." She hissed, and for a moment she could have sworn there was real fear in his eyes right before she gave him a nice slit across his jaw. He yelled out again, kicking her square in the chest, sending her rolling back. She was back on her feet in an instant. "You watched them tear off my coat and you laughed. I remember."
"Nymeria!" The door slammed open, but the second Jon stepped foot inside, two mutineers from the next room over charged at him. Nymeria wasn't too worried. Jon was one of the best swordsmen she'd ever seen. He'd handle them, and she'd handle Karl.
Karl cackled as he got back to his feet, evidently in pain. "Aye, I laughed. Maybe this time, I'll be the one to have you." he beckoned her with a wave. "Come on then." A snarl like a wild beast left her lips as they curled with rage. She shifted back into a fighting stance, her daggers singing as she dragged them harshly against one another, pulling them into position. She leapt at him, her daggers blurs in the air. For a moment, Karl was barely keeping up with her. Then he managed a strike across her left forearm that forced her to drop a dagger. A second later, his fist was delivering a hard blow across her face that made her stumble. Her second dagger fell from her grasp as her side hit the ground, but before she could grab it, Karl's foot came down on her wrist. She let out a cry, her eyes squeezing shut at the sudden pain. Jon's head whipped around at the sound, the distraction letting one of the other men land a hit.
Karl knelt over her, his foot suddenly replaced with the cruel, iron grasp of his hand on her wrist, one of his knees pressed into her stomach to keep her down. She took another swing at him, but then his fingers were closing around her throat, digging into flesh, squeezing. Pressure and dizziness erupted behind her eyes. She couldn't breathe, and she was faced with his sickening grin once more. The fight across the room blended with ringing in her ears as he hummed, amused. "Your Jon Snow isn't going to save you. No one will. See, I always get what I want in the end." her heart pounded against her ribcage, her muscles tensing, burning as he leaned down, his foul breath fanning against the side of her face as she tried to lean away. "And even if there won't be much of you left when I'm done... I still want you." her vision was turning dark as her lungs protested. Her free hand moved to her boot out of Karl's sight. He pushed himself back up, his smirking face above hers once more... and she buried a knife in it. The knife was nothing big, nothing special. It didn't need to be. It stabbed through his flesh and his brain, and his eyes became bloodshot and bulging. Blood spattered on her face, her clothes. Another second passed, then Karl went limp. Nymeria gasped as he fell, her burning lungs greedy for air. With each breath, her chest trembled. With each blink, she held back tears. She squeezed her eyes shut, brows furrowing as she tried to get ahold of herself.
"Nymeria! Nym!" her eyes opened again suddenly to find Jon hurrying over, the other two men disposed of. He took a knee beside her, eyes filled with concern. "Are you alright?"
She groaned, but managed a nod as she pulled herself up into a sitting position. "Yeah... I'm alright." his hands took her arms – so gentle compared to Karl's – steadying her as she rose back to her feet. She wiped a sleeve over the blood on her face, cleaning some of it and smearing the rest, and collected her daggers from the ground. She'd done it. So what was wrong? I enjoyed it. For the first time in her life, Nymeria had taken pleasure in killing. It made her stomach twist sickeningly. As did the lingering prickle of Karl's hands on her body. She wanted to shudder. She did not. "I'm alright." she repeated, softer now.
"Come on." Jon's eyes remained carefully trained on her as his hand ghosted over her back to lead her to the door. She followed without hesitation. Outside, the others were piling the bodies. It was over. Nymeria gave Jon a little nod, assuring him she was fine, and he stepped away to assess the scene left behind. "We lost four brothers?"
"Five." Edd corrected, gesturing to Locke. Nymeria's brows furrowed as she looked at his body, his shoulder torn violently open, flesh and bone widely exposed. What in the seven hells?
"What in seven hells could do that to a man?" Grenn demanded, echoing her thoughts.
Jon looked around. "I count 10 dead mutineers."
"Locke said there were 11 of them."
Nymeria's eyes hardened as she realised who was missing. "Where's Rast?" They looked around for him briefly, finding no sign. Anger bubbled in Nymeria's stomach, but it was also rivalled with relief. She didn't want to make it a hobby, to enjoy slaughter. Experiencing that kind of euphoria from killing Karl was more than enough of a taste for her.
"Jon." Grenn said suddenly.
They turned to see two familiar forms coming back through the gate. A young grizzly, and a white direwolf. Jon grinned. "Where in seven hells? Come here." he called. Ghost trotted right up to him as he knelt on the ground. He stroked a hand behind the wolf's ears. "I missed you, boy." After a moment, Wren pawed Ghost's side lightly, and they began tussling playfully.
Nymeria chuckled. "Found your old friend, did you?"
At the demands of Craster's wives, they were allowed to leave into the wilderness rather than come back with the Crows. The Keep was burned, the fire reflecting in Nymeria's eyes. With the flames casting shadows over her face and the blood smeared there, she looked a terrifying sight indeed. The Huntress was back.