Song: Running After My Fate by Jean-Pierre Taïeb (trust me on this one)
Fianna
The icy water she had been plunged into was a mind numbing shock through her system. It took her a few seconds to focus at all - too cold to move, or to even think.
When her lungs began to scream at her from the water she had already inhaled, her natural instincts began to kick in, before she even truly realised where she was or what had happened.
Fianna Stark began to kick violently in the water, the cold temporarily distracting her from the pain in her leg. She knew the second it crunched when she landed, that her leg had been broken. But none of her limbs would be of any use, if she were dead.
Desperately, she grappled through the lake, trying to reach the surface but feeling heavily weighed down. After a couple more seconds of trying, she realised that she was being physically held back, by her own clothing.
The warm fur coat she received at Dragonstone had done its job to keep her somewhat warm, but now it was only proving to be her downfall. Having to move quickly as her limbs began to numb with the cold, she tackled the buttons that held it in place, shrugging it off her shoulders.
With the barrier gone, she tried again to reach the surface, her lungs growing more and more painful the longer she stayed under, until she almost opened her mouth to inhale the water.
As if plunged by the gods themselves, an arm suddenly appeared above her, inserting itself through the gaping gap as if searching for something.
With a final burst of energy her body had been seemingly saving, Fianna kicked upward until she was close enough to grasp onto the hand. As if she were tied to a rope, the saviour used their conjoined grip to heave her upwards.
The second she hit the air it was as if she were being born again, opening her mouth to inhale the air in. She started to cough violently, excess water finding its way out of her throat.
Robb cried out when she reappeared, eyes widened with shock and heart racing so fast he was sure it would burst out of his chest. He reached toward his wife, gripping onto her forearms to keep her afloat and ensure she didn't slip back down.
After finally catching her breath, a shaking Fianna lunged for the ice sheet, clawing her way onto it and half-hauling herself out of the water with Robb's assistance. Now that she could breathe, and wasn't seconds from death, Fianna began to wail.
If her cheeks hadn't been so damp already, they would surely have been by now. Sobs fell from her lips, ones of fright and horror, but mainly of pure agony.
Robb was at a loss. He had seen her cry many times, after all - they had been through almost everything together, but this was different. Normally, she would cry silently, tears flowing with quiet whimpers falling from her lips. Now, the Northern native was positively sobbing, her cries surely loud enough for any nearby wights to hear.
He couldn't bring himself to reassure her that they would find their way out of this, or pretend that their family was coming back to save them. For the first time in his whole life, Robb had taken a complete and utter blank, which terrified him beyond belief.
Noticing how violent her shaking was, and her lack of warm clothing, he clutched onto her and dragged her towards his body. Robb carefully cradled her head against his chest as she continued to cry, making sure they were pressed together as tightly as possible.
He could hear the grunts of the wights nearby, and knew that they were coming closer with every passing second. But perhaps this was how it would end. Maybe their journey stopped here.
"Can you fight?" He whispered into her soaked hair, which only spurred her crying to worsen.
"M-my l-leg," her teeth chattered, and Robb finally realised that she wasn't just crying because she thought they were going to die. Fianna was clutching her upper thigh, staring at her now-obviously disfigured left leg.
"Fuck," he swore, eyes wide as he leaned over her to inspect the damage. He had no training with medicine, but he didn't need to be a maester to know her leg was broken. And without anyone here to set it back, it would impact her ability to walk.
Not that they were going to walk out of here, none the less.
"It's okay, it's okay," he murmured, sobs of his own building in his chest. Robb settled his forehead against the side of her head, so she wouldn't be able to see his tears. "I love you, Fianna."
"Y-you should run," she forced out, her gaze fixating on a group of wights that were heading in their direction. "Leave me here, and g-go home to our ch-children."
"I'm not leaving you here," he responded gruffly, appalled at the suggestion.
"D-do it for them! Please, R-Robb!" Sighing exasperatedly at her insinuations, he cupped her cheek and pressed a delicate kiss to her forehead.
"I can't live without you," he revealed, her eyes snapping to his as she realised he wasn't going to leave her. Not now, not ever.
Shrugging his fur off of his shoulders, immediately clamping his mouth closed at the wave of cold that froze his body instantly, he gently wrapped it around her and began to stand. If this was to be their last moments, he wanted it to be as easy as possible for her.
Bending down to pick up the sword he discarded when he tried to save Fianna, he clenched it hard enough for his knuckles to whiten, and raised it high into the air.
Through her shaking, Fianna couldn't take her eyes off of him for one second, not even to look for the incoming wights. He was the most magnificent man she had ever met, she recognised, and if he was to be the last thing she'd ever see - so be it.
"I love you," she managed to whisper, but it's volume got lost in the harsh winds. Seconds away from the wights reaching them, he chanced a glance back down to Fianna, his lips lifting into the tiniest of smiles. It was hard to say who felt more guilty - Fianna for falling through the ice, which prompted Robb to stay behind for her. Or Robb, for leaving to go North at all.
Robb swung his dragonglass blade through the air as the first wight reached them, smashing its bones into smithereens. But before he could even attempt to continue slicing through, although it was a definite lost cause, a fiery light in the distance caught his eye.
The light was accompanied by the shadow of a horse-bound figure, galloping its way through the horde and whacking nearby enemies along the way. Determined to not let it distract him, Robb continued to fight off the wights, until the figure reached them and finished off the remainder in the near vicinity.
It was only when he tugged down his scarf covering his mouth that Robb recognised who it was.
"Uncle Benjen?" He asked, breathless from the shock of the day. He didn't reply immediately, but he didn't have to - it was like looking at his own father, the two were so similar.
Robb didn't have time to question him or himself, not having seen his uncle for nearly eight years and the man having been presumed dead for seven of them.
Benjen bent down quickly and hauled Fianna to her feet, causing a shout of pain to erupt from her mouth as her her foot touched the ground. Her soaked hair was now freezing until crunchy with the ice, and she looked more blue than normal.
Robb rushed toward them, wrapping her free arm over his shoulders. Together, they lifted her forwards until they reached the horse he had rode in on, making sure her feet didn't touch the ground.
Upon nearing the saddle, the duo lifted her off of the ground to straddle her over the horse, but the movement had her whimpering in agony again. In the end, she was forced to sit sideways on the saddle, like a lady wearing a dress would.
"Take her back," Benjen ordered Robb, gesturing with his head for the former king to get on the horse as well.
"What do you mean?" He demanded, pausing with one foot in the stirrup. "Aren't you coming?"
"No room on the horse," Benjen explained in a hurried voice, encouraging him to continue until he was properly seated on the saddle, his arms on either side of Fianna's body to reach the reins.
"Thank you, uncle," Robb told him, but Benjen wouldn't hear it. As much as he thought he could have stayed behind too, sent Fianna off on the horse and fought his way back with Benjen at his side - he couldn't. Robb had played the hero enough today, and Fianna would never make it back on her own.
So as his uncle slapped the horses' behind, he threw one sympathetic glance over his shoulder towards him, before turning back to start the journey to Eastwatch. The image of his uncle being overrun by walkers was one of the most horrifying things he had ever seen, even after all his experiences.
Fianna nuzzled her head against his chest, her body shaking not only from the cold but from her attempts to conceal her sobs.
"What is it?" He asked worriedly. "Is it your leg?"
"What if I can never walk again?" She whispered, looking distraught at the possibility.
"It's only one leg, Fianna," he tried to reason. "You'll be able to walk, trust me."
"But not run," she denied,"or at the least, walk normally..."
Robb couldn't reply to that, for he himself knew there was a good chance of that becoming reality. But limp or not, he would love her endlessly. The fact she had come so close to death yet again, that they both had, left Robb thinking about a lot more than just his journey.
One thing was for sure, the image of his uncle dying to save their lives was one that would be as permanent of a fixture in his life as Fianna's leg.
-
Daenerys
"My queen," Jorah spoke softly, not wanting to further upset her. "We'll have to leave soon."
"Not yet," Daenerys answered swiftly, her eyes never straying from the field of snow outstretched before her.
She had been stood at the looking point from the top of the wall for hours now, refusing to budge from her spot. Every single minute that passed she told herself, in the next minute. In the next minute, she'll appear.
Daenerys hadn't gone deaf in her trance, she could hear Jon and Jorah discussing close behind her. She didn't fail to miss the way Jon defended her actions to Jorah, for he himself was also hoping that Robb and Fianna would appear. He understood her, and that eased some of the pain.
Jon was a rather broody man, she had decided this early on, but he had never quite looked so downtrodden since they had returned to Eastwatch. Guilt and loss weighed heavily on him, perhaps more than it did on Daenerys. She reminded herself that however much pain she felt, it was so much more intensified for Jon. He had known Robb since they were little, brothers in the truest of forms even if they only shared half of each others blood.
Daenerys selfishly held onto her feeling of loss nonetheless, she tried to tell herself that Jon had other siblings he could mourn alongside. Daenerys had no one. Not only had she lost her niece, she had also lost one of her children.
It was somehow worse than the day she lost Drogo and Rhaego, for she somehow knew this wouldn't be the end of the deaths to come.
Jon had joined her side eventually, shivering so much more than she did at the top of the wall - perhaps her veins were filled with fire too. It wasn't long before he too had come to accept the events- they were gone. And freezing to death wasn't going to bring them back.
"Dany," he murmured softly, taking her elbow in his hand. She cringed visibly at the nickname, and his tone. "We have to go, you know there's no chance..."
"Just-" she cut herself off, nostrils flaring as her temper began to rise. "Just wait a little longer."
"We have the wight with us," he continued, "we need to go to King's Landing promptly. I know how you're feeling, believe me, but we'll mourn the dead when the enemy is stopped."
Daenerys felt a sob rising in her throat, and she desperately swallowed it back down. It had been quite a while since she had cried.
"Okay," she agreed finally, her whisper barely heard over the harsh winds.
But just as she had agreed, by divine intervention no doubt, a dark mass could be seen entering the clearing, moving at a slow pace.
"Wait!" She gasped, grabbing Jon's arm and forcing him forward, pointing with her free hand.
Jon's eyes and mouth widened immediately, and with that, he shot off into a run, heading straight for the ladder that would start to lead him down to the bottom.
Daenerys stood still, fearful that if she looked away it would disappear as a figment of her imagination. But it only came closer and closer, until her eyes could make out what looked to be two figures on horseback.
With that sight, she finally turned to follow after Jon, to greet them herself.
-
Jon
The gates couldn't have opened fast enough for Jon, who slipped underneath the small opening the second it unveiled - too impatient to wait for it to fully rise.
He ran as hard as he could through the thick snow, which was much harder than one would think after a harsh snow storm. He could immediately make out the features of his brother's face, the curl of his hair hidden beneath a hood and a bundled person huddled against his chest.
He said a silent prayer that Fianna wasn't dead, for he can't imagine how much further damage his brother would suffer if he had to carry the love of his life's body back to safety.
"Robb!" He exclaimed loudly, desperate to be heard through the snow. His heart hammered in his chest, as if he were the one who had escaped death. It was like seeing him for the first time after the Red Wedding all over again.
"Jon," Robb shouted back tiredly, his voice hoarse and coming out as more of a croak. No doubt he was coming down with something. His eyes were fluttering, body begging himself to allow him to fall asleep.
Jon reached the horse after shouting out behind him for help, not waiting to see Davos sprinting after him.
"Are you alright?" Jon asked breathlessly when he reached the horse, hands against the side of the horse. Robb looked exhausted, his face more blue than pale and snow coating his lashes and beard.
"T-take her, Jon," he replied tiredly, tightening his grip around the shivering woman in his arm. The shaking told Jon that perhaps she wasn't dead yet after all.
Jon reached up and placed both hands on her waist, exerting himself as he lifted her into his arms, as one would carry a small babe. He immediately began to rush back to the tunnel, until a harsh thud behind him told him that Robb had fallen off his horse.
"Go!" Davos demanded, himself and Gendry wrapping their hands under the former kings arms. "'Av got him!"
Jon pushed his worry aside in order to sprint back towards the castle, desperate to get towards the heat and to meet someone with healing knowledge. For Fianna was in far worse shape than Robb.
He had reached the former Maester's chambers, where he himself was currently residing it, as he knew a warm fire was blazing and it had a table for an ailing person to lay.
Davos and Gendry were close behind, settling Robb down into a chair beside the fire and wrapping him in warm blankets. The man was lethargic, slipping back and forth between the conscious and unconscious world. But Jon had seen it before with other rangers, he needed to be warmed up both inside and out and given time to rest a night. Then he would be right and ready.
However, Fianna he knew to be in worse condition.
He saw the girl fall through the ice, it was a miracle she had survived until now much less was here in front of him. Doubtless - hypothermia was settling in, and he would have to act fast to stop it.
"Forgive me, brother," he muttered, before reaching for his dagger to cut her still-damp clothes off, politely ignoring the parts of her body that he shouldn't see.
"Is she alright?" A shaky voice called out from the doorframe, Daenerys slowly stepping toward the table but hesitantly. She wasn't sure if Fianna and Robb were fully coherent, and if they'd want to see her.
"I don't know," Jon answered truthfully. Now that Davos had settled Robb in, and had instructed Gendry to make him a hot cup of Nettle Tea to warm him up and fetch more blankets for Fianna, he was able to assist Jon.
He turned his attention to her riding trousers, slicing through them, but it wasn't long before he recoiled in surprise.
"By the gods!" He choked, Jon rolled his eyes - assuming he had simply seen her lady parts, but stopped to look as well when he saw that Davos gaze was further down.
Jon looked and his eyebrows furrowed at the sight - her knee was distorted at an odd angle, pushed to the side and sticking out. No doubt it was broken, as well as her ankle by the looks of it, but neither Jon nor Davos knew how to reset breaks in such places.
"What is it?" Daenerys demanded, stepping up to the table and gasping herself. Her hand fell to her stomach, tears reaching her eyes as she realised the full extent of their decision to go North. The guilt was indescribable, between Jon and herself.
Gendry soon returned, and Fianna's naked body was redressed in clothing meant for a smaller man. Blankets bundled around her and the table dragged closer to the fire. The bastard son headed towards Robb, who was incoherently mumbling to himself, with a cup of tea in hand. Carefully, after blowing on it, he brought the cup to his lips and began to let its contents fall into his mouth and down his throat.
Seconds afterward, a choking sound was heard, and several glares were thrown in Gendry's direction. It had seemed to do the trick, although, as Robb shot up in his seat, wiping his mouth viciously.
"What the bloody hell is that?" He demanded in disgust, eyes glancing around the room in confusion before they landed on the face of his wife, entirely unconscious.
All that could be seen was her head, as the rest of her body too tightly bundled. Robb looked absolutely heartbroken by the sight, which ironically broke the hearts of every person in the room.
Slowly he rose, but then he rushed toward the table, his hands cupping her cold cheeks and his lips pressing kisses against her forehead.
"I think she'll be alright," Jon decided to speak up, fearful of Robb's mood. "She'll need a few days to rest."
"Did you see her leg?" His hoarse voice croaked in return. Jon nodded sadly. "Do you think she'll ever walk again?"
Jon didn't answer.
"I've seen many a man break his leg and walk again, lad," Davos offered encouragingly, "they walked with a limp in their step, but they walked."
Robb nodded, looking as if he had a weight lifted off of his shoulders. He would love his wife if she were crippled or not, but he knew first hand how much pain Bran was in to struggle with the simple things in life. But of course, Bran had broken his back - not a single leg.
Robb turned and dragged his chair towards the table, bundling up again with his free hand as his other was underneath Fianna's blankets, curled around her hand.
Daenerys let out a soft sigh, trying to maintain composure as she ventured towards Robb, ready to offer her sympathies and apologies. But ultimately, she was stopped by Jon's hand on her shoulder. She looked at him in confusion, but he simply tilted his head and gestured towards the door.
Together, they walked until they were outside and completely alone.
"What is it?" Daenerys initiated, eyebrows furrowed.
"Something tells me Robb doesn't want to talk right now," Jon sighed, rubbing his cold hands together with a grim expression. "I'd guess he blames us for their situation."
"It was us," Daenerys replied, her tone flat but her eyes betraying her demeanour, for they were filled with sadness and worry. "He told us not to venture North, both of them did."
"What's done is done now," Jon tried to comfort her, "we should feel thankful we didn't lose any more than we did."
"There's more..." Daenerys admitted, hanging her head in shame. "When we readied to leave Dragonstone... Fianna wanted to ride on Drogon with myself. She practically begged me, told me she wasn't ready to ride Viserion into battle, but I wouldn't listen."
"Why?" Jon asked, eyes scanning her face. He was unsure of what to think about this.
"I thought that it would come naturally to her, with her Targaryen blood," she revealed in a low voice.
"I think that was a mistake," he answered, continuing when she looked back at him, "you've been acting as if she was fully Targaryen this entire time. But Fianna wasn't telling you she's a Bua out of stubbornness."
"It's typical," she scoffed, the corners of her lips turned down. "I've barely begun my reign and already it's starting to become my downfall."
"I disagree," he refuted, causing her head to snap to look at him in surprise. "You took a risk to save us, despite the fact you barely believe in white walkers to begin with. You listened to us, and suffered as a result. I think you'll make a great Queen. And that the Seven Kingdoms will survive under your reign."
Daenerys' lips parted in shock at his words, particularly, she honed in on his use of the words Seven Kingdoms, instead of five. Was he suggesting what she had hoped he would agree to for months now?
But before she could even begin to ask, the sound of the door opening behind them interrupted the conversation.
Jon blanched at the sight of Robb at the door, his sharp blue eyes flicking back and forth between the two suspiciously. He internally begged that Robb hadn't heard his conversation, but if he had, he wasn't going to comment on it just yet.
"Can you see if there are any more blankets?" He asked his brother, although his eyes still flickered to Daenerys, who's nervous demeanour didn't help.
Without waiting for an answer, Robb shut the door swiftly.
-
Part 2 should be posted in a couple of days! I'm absolutely bombarded with work and exams I have no time to pee much less write. But it'll be up soon 💓