castle black, the wall
— NYMERIA GOT MORE TIRED OF THE NIGHT'S WATCH WITH EACH PASSING DAY. Not the Wall, not the Castle with its familiar rooms she'd practically grown up in, not the cold that nipped at her cheeks until they were flushed pink. It was the men she took issue with. She was good at commanding, and she liked it alright. There was certainly something poetic about lording over men who'd once sneered at her, insisting that she'd become nothing and die amongst the Night's Watch. But they were boring. Boring little men who wasted away boring lives at the edge of the world because they'd been caught in crimes committed in the service of boring aspirations.
When she got sick of them, she turned to training. She missed riding, but it was a bad idea to stray off from the group with all that was happening at the moment. She missed ranging, but she couldn't think about that without thinking about the rangers who'd been her friends whose faces she'd never see again. So she didn't think about it. Eventually, though, the training dummies got boring too. Edd had suggested at one point that she could train recruits to occupy her time, but they were about as exciting as the straw man she'd just effortlessly decapitated.
"You're going to run out of those." Tormund joked from the edge of the yard.
"Well the only person around here who's actually any fun to train with was just recently dead." she sighed. "And I'd hate to put him back out of commission." She looked him up and down, then after a moment said, "You're a good fighter. You know how to spar?" He arched a brow. "Fight without actually trying to kill one another." She explained, amused. "It's fun."
"Ah, yes." He nodded with a smile. "Spar. Very nice."
She picked up a pair of batons from a rack of training weapons and he followed suit, both of them falling into fighting positions. Tormund struck first, and she blocked easily, backing away a step and forcing him to follow her. Next time he struck twice and she blocked both again.
"Come on," she teased. "You can hit harder than that."
"You're small." he pointed out.
"I'm also fast. Come on, don't hold back on me."
She came at him next in a quick flurry of strikes, illustrating her point as he rushed to block them all. She landed one against his calf, and that was apparently enough proof for him. He lunged, striking hard with both batons, and this time when she deflected with both, she stepped aside, letting his weight carry him past her. He wasn't slow though; faster than what she would have expected for someone his size, and he whirled on her, their strikes becoming blurs as they fully engaged now. He landed a hit to her arm and she responded with a quick spin around him, throwing him off and allowing her to land one against his arm in return. The others in the yard backed away as the two moved in wide arcs, taking up the majority of the space. Several watched with rapt interest. This was probably the most exciting training session they'd witnessed in a good while. Finally, Nymeria made the mistake of leaving herself open on a swing and Tormund took advantage, stepping swiftly past her side and hitting her right in the back of the ribs with a quick strike of his elbow.
Immediately, a wave of ice flooded Nymeria's veins, her nerves. She fell forward with a cry, barely catching herself on her elbows. Her vision was blurry for a second and her fingers trembled, though she could barely feel them.
"Nymeria?" Tormund frowned, stepping towards her. Knowing her, there was no way he'd hit hard enough to do more than knock the breath out of her. Something wasn't right.
She held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks as she took a deep breath. She rose up to one knee, pressing a hand to her side, right where the wight's claws had gouged into her flesh. "I'm alright. It's just not fully healed." she huffed, smirking a little. "My own fault though, I guess. Stupid, leaving myself open like that."
Tormund's lips twitched as he offered a hand, and she let him haul her back to her feet. "Or maybe I'm just better than you."
She laughed, but it was friendly and good-natured. "Sure. Keep dreaming, red."
A couple of days of strategizing had passed before the group sat in the Hall again, this time with a map spread over one table and pieces representing northern troops.
"We can't defend the north from the walkers and the south from the Boltons." Jon was saying. "If we want to survive, we need Winterfell and to take Winterfell we need more men."
"Aside from the Starks and the Boltons," Davos said. "The most powerful houses are the Umbers, the Karstarks and the Manderlys. The Umbers and the Karstarks," he moved the pieces across the map as he spoke. "Have already declared for the Boltons. So we're not doing so well there."
"Perhaps." Nymeria mused. "But they did so not knowing that there was another choice. We need to make ourselves known."
"The Umbers gave Rickon to our enemies." Sansa spoke up. "They can hang, but you're right about the Karstarks. They may yet help us."
Davos frowned. "I beg your pardon my lady, Lord Commander, but they know that a Stark beheaded their father. I don't think we can count on them either."
Sansa pressed her lips together. "How well do you know the North, Ser Davos?"
"Precious little, my lady."
"My father always said Northerners are different. More loyal, more suspicious of outsiders."
"They may well be loyal, but how many rose up against the Boltons when they betrayed your family?" Silence. "I may not know the North, but I know men. They're more or less the same in any corner of the world and even the bravest of them don't want to see their wives and children skinned for a lost cause. If Jon's gonna convince them to fight alongside them, they need to believe it's a fight they can win."
"There are two dozen more houses in the North." Nymeria said. "Glover, Cerwyn, Mazin, Hornwood..." her fingers hovered over Bear Island. "Mormont. Together they balance out the others. Plus the Free Folk."
Jon nodded. "We can start small and build."
"The North remembers." Sansa intoned. "They remember the Stark name. People will still risk everything for it, from White Harbour to Ramsay's own door."
"I don't doubt it." Ser Davos said. "But Jon doesn't have the Stark name."
"He has Stark blood." Nymeria spoke, eyes still tracing the map. There was something undecipherable in her expression. "You'd be surprised how a name pales next to the blood of kings." She shrugged, her expression lightening again as she looked up. "Besides, it's no big secret that Ramsay's a bastard, and Sansa still has the Stark name if it comes to that."
"There are also the Tullys." Sansa added. "They're not northern but they will back us against the Boltons without question."
Davos frowned. "I didn't know the Tully's still had an army."
She smiled. "My uncle, the Blackfish, has reformed it and retaken Riverrun."
"How do you know that?" Jon wondered.
"Ramsay received a raven before I escaped Winterfell."
"That's good." Davos nodded. "The Blackfish is a legend. His support would mean a great deal." he stood, looking over the map. "Stark, Tully, a few other houses... almost starts to look like a winning side."
°
Soon enough, Nymeria had made the formal announcement that she was withdrawing from the Watch and giving command to Edd. The hall had been almost entirely silent. Whatever they were thinking, none of them wanted to say it to her face, nor the faces of the friends she still had here who glared around, daring anyone to speak up.
Nymeria was in her room, packing her things – there wasn't much aside from an entire saddlebag dedicated to her healing supplies – when there came a knock at her door. "Come in." When she turned, there was a familiar red-haired girl standing in the doorway. "Sansa." She smiled. "Is everything alright?"
Sansa nodded, her smile looking almost a little nervous as she looked down at the neatly folded material she carried. "I wanted to give you something."
Nymeria took the gift offered, expression curious. When she let the fabric fall from its folded state in her hands, her lips parted in a small smile of awe. It looked like a combination of a coat and a dress, long enough to nearly touch the floor but not quite, the green material heavy and warm. Some black embroidery broke the green, and the collar was black fur that continued down the front of the dress over the lapels.
"I made it for you. I wasn't sure how you felt about dresses, so it allows for a lot more movement than a regular dress would. And... I imagined it's been quite some time since you got to wear something in the colour of your house."
Nymeria glanced up at Sansa with a smile of unabashed awe and gratitude. "Thank you, Sansa, truly. This is a beautiful gift."
The Stark girl smiled. "We haven't known each other long, but you've been kind to me. And from all the stories Jon's told me, he wouldn't be here without you. And, I think a dress is the least I could do for someone putting their life on the line to help my family."
Nymeria shook her head with a small chuckle. "Believe me, I wouldn't be here without Jon either. And what sort of friend would I be to either of you if I just turned my back?"
Sansa's smile grew hopeful. "We're friends?"
"We'd better be." Nymeria grinned.
A/N:
Girlbosses. That's all I have to say :)