Dreams…Sent Me A Sign Pt. 2

She woke from her sleep breathing hard. She looked around the room as if to see she was indeed in her own home. Hurriedly, she got up and changed from her sleeping garbs to her day wears. She quietly made her way out of the keep without alerting the guards. She needed to be discreet for what she hoped was not a mere dream.

The sky outside was showing the first signs of the approaching dawn. She pulled the hood up to conceal her face from the night guards and the few who had woken up to start their daily chores. With measured and quiet steps, she advanced towards the Godswood. Although, none would confront her about going to the Hearts Tree, she didn't want anybody to know about her visit…just yet.

She knelt before the frowning face carved into the white trunk of the Weirwood tree. She raised a hand and brushed the tips of her fingers on the eyes that were leaking sap, giving the face an imagery of shedding blood tear. She let out a deep sigh and closed her eyes.

"Did I really see what I saw? Was it all a dream or are you sending me a message? What am I to do? Please, I beg of you…give me a sign!"

A sudden gust of wind blew through the leaves overhead; the susurration of the leaves was almost like an amused chuckle. She frowned but kept her eyes closed, concentrating more on the fleeting feeling that somebody was trying to reach out to her.

She didn't know how long she sat there with her palm pressed against the tree trunk. Her hair ruffled in another gust of wind, she shivered at the coldness it brought. Then, an unexpected hot wave enveloped her entire being. It almost felt just as when her mother used to hug her before her untimely passing. The leaves moved once again, and with that, whispers that she was hearing, became more prominent.

"Mary Anne of House Reed…"

She opened her eyes in shock and took a quick look around her to see if anybody had found her. But she was alone in the woods.

"Come closer, child…"

Mary stood up and started to walk deeper in the woods as if in a trance. She didn't know where she was going, but her feet carried her and she couldn't stop herself from moving forward. A couple of minutes of walking later, she stopped in front of another Weirwood tree. She had spent her entire childhood in this forest, playing and hunting small games. Never did she saw another tree just a small distance away from the Hearts Tree. She frowned and looked around to gauge her position in the woods, but couldn't be certain. Her eyes fell upon the mound at the foot of the tree. It looked the same as any freshly made mud mound, but she couldn't spot any footstep near the mound or going to and from the mound. Curiosity overtook her as she dropped on her knees and started to dig through the mound with her bare hands.

Mary looked on amazed at the small wooden chest that she dug out of the mound. She couldn't find any latch or keyhole to open the chest. She put it on the ground and tried to pry it open. It shocked her to see that it didn't take her much effort to open the chest. Inside of it, laid two ordinary looking bracers. Again, as if in trance, she took the bracers out and put them on her forearmes.

A sudden chiming sound broke through her trance, she screamed in a scare and landed on her arse. A translucent, bluish-green shadow appeared before her, ruby red texts glinting atop of it –

Welcome, Champion!

[CotW]

"I beg of you, sweetling, reconsider your decision…"

"Father, I told you, I need to leave as soon as possible. I have been given a duty to pursue, a duty that you will not understand."

"Then help me understand. You are my youngest child, you are the last memory of your mother to me. I cannot just let you leave without a proper explanation. You are merely fourteen namedays old for mercy's sake, child, what am I going to say to your lord uncle? Or your brother for that matter?"

Mary sighed and got up from where she was sorting through her meagre possessions, deciding on what she would take along with her for her yet to determined ways. She went over to seat beside her aged father, Lord Daniel Reed, brother of the Lord of Greywater Watch, Lord Charles Reed. The aged lord had worked all of his life in service to the North, diligently performing his duties as a scout and spy for the Starks, as had their ancestors during the Andal invasion. Their house mayhaps the poorest among the Northern realm, but they were loyal to the Winter Kings of old, and they hadn't forgotten the oaths their predecessors had given to the Starks.

Mary laid her hand over her father's wizened, pale hands, "Father, you of all people should know how us Reeds are connected to our lands. The Gods communicate with us, they give us purposes, causes to follow and fulfil our destinies. That is how you did it, that is how our ancestors did it and all the Reeds shall do when their time comes.

For my lord uncle and brother," Mary smiled sadly, thinking about the times in their childhood that her and her brother used to get into all kinds of mischief and how their lord uncle overlooked everything his loving nephews and niece had done. "Tell them, I have gone on to a pilgrimage because I have received a dream from the Old Gods."

She cut off her father's reply, "You will not be telling them lies, Father, do not worry about it. I have indeed received a dream from the Gods, and before you ask, I cannot divulge it to you. For I am not allowed to." She squeezed his hands in assurance.

Lord Daniel looked on in sadness as his only daughter resumed her packing, "Where will you even go?"

Mary turned back to look at him with a frown, she answered as if she was not sure of it herself, "Isle of Faces is my first destination. I truly didn't lie, and neither will you when you tell people that I went for pilgrimage."

"Why there precisely?"

"I do not know, Father. In my dreams, I was asked to retrieve something from the Godswood, and no, I can't tell you what it was since it was the part that I cannot divulge. With the item in my possession, I am to travel to the island for my instructions and training. What they will consist of, I have no idea."

She had finished packing her satchel and slung it over her shoulder.

"Do you have any need of provisions? What am I saying, of course you do. You are still but a wee lass, who has not met with the wider world yet. Oh Mary, oh my sweetheart, why must it be so?" Lord Daniel broke down once again.

Mary rushed over and gathered her father within her arms, "Father, please, I beg of you, do not make this any difficult than it already is. Please, send me off with a smile. I do not know how hard it is for you to let me go, but you have to. I am of Reed blood, Father. We are always entrusted with the duties to keep our lands safe from any outside threats and our liege lord safe. I give you my word, I will perform my duties to the best of my abilities."

"But how? The world is a very cruel and dangerous place for a young woman, lass."

"Do not worry about that, Father." Mary smirked as she wiped off her father's tears from his face, "I shall not be travelling as Mary Anne of House Reed."

Lord Daniel looked at her daughter with confusion before his eyes widened with realisation, "You meant to say the trick you have pulled on Charles that one time…?"

"Aye Father, it is time for the Seven Kingdoms to meet Jon Rackham." She straightened with her satchel slung over her shoulder, ready to leave. A fresh set of tears rolled down Lord Daniel's cheeks, he truly didn't want his only daughter to leave. Mary sighed and once again knelt before her father's chair, taking the hands of her old and disabled father's into her own, "Father, please let me go with your blessings."

Lord Daniel gently freed his hands from her grasp and sat up in his seat with effort, he cupped her face and looked deep into her eyes, "Be it a year from now or a decade, that window will always remain opened, and a lamp will be lit in this room. I may or may not be here to greet you, but know this, Mary Anne of House Reed, you will always be welcomed within this roof." He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Mary closed her eyes and willed the tears away. She looked at her father with a faint smile and whispered, "Farewell, Father." She stood up and pulled her hood up. She climbed up on the windowsill and looked down, calculating the way she should go down and away. She looked over her shoulder at her father and gave him a nod before leaping into the darkness of the night.

[CotW]

The small villages that dotted around the Neck had seen all manners of travellers making their ways to and from their region, some went to find their niche in the South, some on their way back to their home after a long hiatus. They didn't think it odd to see a no more than thirteen namedays old, quite short and scrawny lad meandering his way about the Neck to venture further in the South. Jon Rackham he said his name was, and he had left his home pursuant to a fortune away from the cold, hard North.

The lad had been somewhat closed off in his behaviours, but he was amicable enough that people thought he was running away from a painful past. He did some little chores for them in exchange of a little meal here, a piece of clothing there. The folks around this lands were not wealthy, but they appreciate hard workers, and men with their sights firm. Jon Rackham had both, so they didn't mind lending him as much or little help they could lend.

Rackham had listened to the advices and stuck to the Hunter's path in the swamplands of the Neck, rather than traipsing through the Kingsroad. The counsel he got was to avoid the Twins, both for his lack of coinage and anonymity that he preferred. Heeding the advices, he traversed through the marshlands of the Neck and by-passed the Twins on his way to Seagard. He had spent a few days in the port town to replenish his stocks of food and essentials before continuing his way towards Wendish Town on the banks of the Blue Fork. He had stuck to his habit of accepting aid in exchange of labour to ease the burdens of his travels.

It took him five months to travel to High Heart since he had left the Neck, because he didn't venture out alone in fear of encountering bandits that frequented this lands. And travelling traders were not always on the road to his whims. He had just said his farewells to such a group of travellers and made his way on top of the hill. Besides the Isle, this spot also held importance to the followers of the Old Gods. Rackham had knelt before one of the thirty-one burnt stumps of Weirwoof tree when he first reached the summit of the hill to offer his prayers. Now, he was trying to get some sleep within his bedroll. He hadn't dare to light a fire which could attract unnecessary attention towards himself.

He had almost dozed off when a sudden change in his vicinity alerted him awake. He got up from his bedding and looked around to find a campfire not too far from where he had settled down for the night. Unsheathing the lone dagger in his possession, he crept slowly towards the light. From the cover of a tree, he could see a small campsite, a short and very old woman was sitting beside the fire and tending it. Rackham frowned at that, what is old woman like her doing here of all places at this time of the night? – he thought to himself.

He was startled and almost stumbled out of his hiding place when he heard the woman spoke aloud –

"You can come out of there and warm yourself beside my fire."

A shiver ran down his spine which had nothing to do with the chill of the night. He figured that since he was discovered, it wouldn't do him any good to remain in the darkness any longer. He tightened his grip on the dagger and cautiously stepped forward.

The old woman peered up to him from her fire, she gave her a beatific smile, "Come child, have a seat. Are you hungry?"

Rackham couldn't help but nod at the question. The woman fumbled with her satchel for a little and brought out two rabbit carcasses and threw them at his feet.

"Here, you can skin them while I try to see if I have any herbs with me."

Bemused, Rackham sat down on the boulder opposite of the woman and started with his work of getting the rabbits skinned and cleaned. He looked up to see that the woman silently prepared two pokers to stick in to the meat and the dried herbs to rub over them. He took the stuff from her and started to roast the meat over the fire.

They started to eat their meal in silence, but Rackham couldn't hold it in any longer, he blurted out, "Pardon me, My Lady, but who are you?"

An eerie cackle escaped her lips, "Oh, I am no lady, child, as you are neither a Jon nor a Rackham."

Alarmed, Rackham jumped to his feet and was about to draw his dagger out when the old women chided him, "Do sit down, child. It is the folly of youth to misunderstand things and jump into the wrong conclusions. You have nothing to fear from a defenceless, frail, old woman."

Rackham remained on his feet, he spoke through clenched teeth, "You will have to excuse me if I seem sceptical, but you are far from frail and defenceless. I ask you again, Who. Are. You?"

The old woman huffed indignantly, "I do not seem frail or defenceless but appear old? Do you not know that it is not polite to talk about a woman's age?" Rackham kept glaring at her without any reply, "Oh, very well, do spoil my enjoyment. Sit down and we will talk properly."

She waited till Rackham took his seat, "That was not too hard, was it? Now, for your answers, I do not remember what my name is. I had one a long time back, but haven't used it in so long that I myself have forgotten that." She poked the fire absentminded, "We were not even supposed to meet, but here we are, defying one possibility for the sake of the other."

"What are you talking about?" Rackham asked, he was thoroughly confused.

"The truth, child, what else?"

"Eh? What truth?"

"The one that sets us all free, the very same that urged you to leave your home behind for the uncertainty of the road. The same truth that will push me to leave my lands for a short while to ensure that the next Champion graces us when his time is right, after you are done."

Rackham's eyes couldn't be more widened even if he tried to, "Wha-what are you talking about?"

"I know who you are, child. I am not talking about your mortal identity, but your divine charge that you have received not very long ago. Aye, you are a Champion, like so many before you, and so many after you will be chosen thusly."

"How could you possibly know about that? I didn't even tell my father…" Rackham cried out.

The woman gave him a saddened smile, "I see everything, child, past, present, possible futures; for that is the curse I bear." She struggled to get up on her feet. She was a small person, with age, her back made her bent and even smaller in appearance. Her long, white hair almost brushed along the ground as she walked, favouring on the knurled staff in her hands. She came to sit beside a stunned Rackham on the boulder and took one of his hands into her own shrivelled hands, "You have a hard path ahead of you, child, they will test you at every step you take. I implore you to learn everything you can in the coming days, for you will need to remain true to your teachings if you want to carry out your duties to its fullest." She tugged the still shocked youth to his feet, "Come, lay down your weary head and rest for the night. Do not fight the inevitable. You will find peace once you are done."

Almost as if a spell cast upon him, Rackham had suddenly become tired to his bones. He didn't put up any objection when the old woman forced him to lay down on the ground beside the fire, his gears had appeared there somehow from where he left them. He rolled on to his side and tried to stifle a yawn, "At least tell me who you are."

He felt the woman rubbing his back as he saw mothers doing the same thing to soothe an irate child to sleep. Through the haze of sleep, her voice invaded his mind –

"As I told you before, I forgot what my old name was. But you can call me by my new name – the Ghost of High Heart."

Rackham sat up in alarm, he had heard about the famed Ghost of High Heart. He looked around him but found that he was alone, and the sky was bright with the morning light. Did I dream about it all? – he asked himself. But there was a remnant of a campfire and along with the bones of their meals. Rackham shivered once again for the absurdity of the situation. He didn't waste any time and prepared to leave the place as soon as he could.

The folks from the fishing villages around the God's Eye weren't very helpful when Rackham went about to find a vessel that can take him across the water to the Isle. Most refused him the moment they heard his propositions, the rest demanded an exorbitant sum of money to deter him. After a long search, he managed to find an old man who agreed to him only after he promised to buy his small boat. Handing over ten Silver Stags – the entirety of his fund, over to the man, he climbed onto the rickety, old thing and paddled towards the Isle.

Thick mist hung about the trees along the coast of the Isle. Rackham moored his small boat to the roots of one such tree that leaned over the water. He carefully made his way inwards the Isle. He didn't know what he was looking for, just that he was supposed to come here for his lessons. He was by no means, an inexperienced individual when it came to finding way in a thick forest, for he grew up in the traitorous marshlands of Greywater Watch, but this here lands made him uncomfortable. Every inch of his being were screaming at him to turn back, but he kept true to his path.

No matter how carefully he was watching his steps, he was not prepared to be flung about in the air and landing painfully on his arse, bounded by vines. He groaned and tried to sit up but stilled when a pair of foot came into his view. He slowly looked up to the owner of those feet to find a tall man, clad in a green hood and green garbs peering down at him curiously.

"Who are you?" the man asked him in a gruff voice.

His side was throbbing in pain from landing hard on it, he greeted his teeth to ignore the pain, "My name is Jon Rackham…"

The man raised a hand to stop him, "Your hood is displaced and your hair has come undone. You may want to answer again, truthfully this time, if you please."

"Oh! Um…I am Mary Anne…of House Reed…"

"Very well, Mary Anne of House Reed, what is the purpose of your visit here?"

Mary fidgetied within her binds, "I was told to come here for my training and lessons."

The man sighed and knelt down beside her. He brought out a knife which made Mary cower away from him, but the man started to cutting off the vines that bound her.

"Tell me, did you, perchance, come into possession of a set of bracers?"

For the second time in two days, Mary was at a loss for words. Two different individuals were privy to her most guarded of secrets.

"How did you…nobody seemed to even notice the bracers…"

The man smirked at her, "Even I do not see the bracers, but I know about them and the blessings you Champions receive once you came into their possession. For we sometimes acted as teachers for the Champions of the Gods."

Mary was scared out of her minds, she couldn't understand how this man can know about something he couldn't even see.

"Who are these 'we'? Who are you?" she asked heatedly.

"Oh, forgive me. I forgot to introduce myself properly to you, Champion. My name is Edward Kenway, I am the last of the Green Men."

[CotW]

It had been five years since Mary had left her home. In the ensuing years, she had come to the Isle of Faces to be trained by the last of the Green Men, Edward Kenway. The man in the green hood had taught her how to fight, how to wield her bow and shoot with accuracy. How to traverse through the most traitorous of lands unhindered. How to conceal herself and become one of the shadows. After two gruelling years of training from dawn to dusk, Edward had deemed her ready enough to venture out in the world to pursue her quests for the Gods.

She had tried to form a friendship with the hardened man, but the gruff behaviours of Edward had dissuaded her of that notion. The most she had pried from his lips were that he was once a normal man, a hunter by profession and had a family – wife with a daughter and a little son. But then the call that he felt since his childhood became stronger for him to ignore, and with his wife's permission, he had set out to find its source. He ended up at the Isle without any knowledge of what awaited him here. Here, he met with the order of Green Men, an ancient order who acted as guardians to this sacred lands. When Edward arrived here, only a handful members of the fabled order remained. The call that he felt within his bones, was the invitation that was imbued with the ground of the very island. The Children of Forest had worked their magic before leaving the Isle behind so that the First Men and their descendants would always be called to tend the land of the sacred treaty and faith. But the old guardians had lamented that the greed of men had weakened the magic of the land, and in turn, drove the Children further from the contact of men and the magic to dissipate from the world. Edward was the last one after everyone else had perished due to old age. He waited in his lonesome in hope that there would be other to hear the call. He first thought Mary to be one who finally had heard the call, but he was disappointed as well as giddy when she turned out to be a Champion.

Mary didn't want to leave the man, whom she had come to see as another father figure, behind on his lonesome once again. But the very next day after Edward had proclaimed her training to be complete, another instruction came for her. Once again the shadowy bluish-green haze, the glinting ruby red words that directed her to her next destination. With a heavy heart, she bade farewell to her mentor and had set out to the larger world.

Her instructions had made her travel almost all of the South. She had created three personas for herself to travel unnoticed and carry out her quests without drawing attention to herself. She had become proficient in her hunt so that none had made the connections between the killings that spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms with the server, maid, cook, guard, washwoman, farmer and so many more with the names of Mary Reed, Anne Bonney and Jon Rackham.

She had never taken a life indiscriminately. She was always asked to investigate individuals or happenings through the haze and after conducting the said investigations, she was to hand out judgement at her own discretion. Mary was horrified by the depravity that laid bare before her. The first time she had to take a life, she could not keep her meals down for the next three days. The glassy, lifeless eyes of her victim haunted her at every waking moment. But the proofs that led her to do such a deed were indisputable. The man she had killed, a Maester at the house of Pipers of Pinkmaiden, had whispered to the ears of the Piper lord who had condemned his wife, a daughter of house Smallwood from Acorn Hall, to the Silent Sisters.

Her crime was that she was adept at healing, which she had learned since her childhood from a hedge witch. That was an affront to the teachings of the Citadel. Hence, the Maester had staged a mummery for Lord Piper to walk in on. He had dosed the Lady Piper to make her unconscious and then raped her in the lord's chamber itself. Lord Piper had found his lady wife bare as the day she was born and passed out on their marriage bed, her used cunt was leaking semen of her supposed lover. The man then had the gall to sombrely advise the lord to not take her life, instead managed to send her off to the Sisters for her crimes. He didn't stop there, he had slow poisoned the lord's little sons to make them weak and sickly as well as whispering to the lord to marry the naïve daughter off to a man who had been a known abuser of women.

Mary had found the Maester's personal journal where he had gleefully recorded about his tryst with the lady of the house to its minutest detail. She didn't even feel any remorse when she drove her hidden blade to that vile man's throat. But after she had calm down and looked at the fear stricken face of the dead man, she bolted from the room and emptied her stomach. She had taken the journal with her when she finally left the castle of Pinkmaiden only to remind herself that if she had to kill someone, then they had truly deserved it.

Her quests and investigations had taken her almost all over the South. Wherever she went, she almost always left corpses of similarly despicable men at her wake. Men who were working from the shadows, moving one piece at a time on the board of cyvasse (a game that Mary had come to know about in her travels) and ensuring their hold onto the power to rule from beyond the veils. At first, she thought this conspiracy was from the Southorns against the worshippers of the Old Gods, but as she delved deep, she found out that their reach was further than that. All of her findings had pointed her towards the Citadel, the centre from where these Maesters had gotten their orders from and several lords who unwittingly became their mask for all to see.

Currently, Mary was sitting at a table at the inn called Quill and Tankard in Oldtown as Jon Rackham, she had come to the city about six months back. Her persona of Anne Bonney had acquired a job as the serving maid at the inn, while Rackham was the distant cousin of a minor house from the North who had been of two minds about whether to become an acolyte or not, and while he was taking his sweet time on the decision, he was not averse to enjoy the life Oldtown had to offer. Rackham had been seen to frequent every tavern and the rat pits of the town.

"I see you have not come to a decision yet."

Rackham was broken out of his thoughts by the speaker who turned out be Connor, another acolyte prospective from the Riverlands who, same as Rackham, was yet to make his decision.

"I see you are still bitching about your own as well." Rackham snarked back at him.

Connor sat down at the table and pushed a tankard of ale towards Rackham, "Truly, what is stopping you? Or is it true that you never had any inclination to join the Citadel, merely said so to your family so that you can enjoy your life here?"

Rackham took a swig of the offered ale, "No, I do crave knowledge, and what better place than the Citadel to sate such cravings? But it is conflicting with my desire to see the world. If I earn my links, I will be entombed to one of the houses of the realms and that will be the absolute end of any chance of travelling."

"On the other hand, you can refuse to join a household and continue your studies here. That will leave your chance to travel open."

"True," Rackham agreed, "but tell me, which of the taverns will cater to a drunk Maester? Or a rat pit that will welcome one with open arms? Do you think the Citadel will let me be once I have sworn my vows? And if they catch me afterwards, they will take away my chain and banish me forever. Where will that leave me then?"

Connor nodded his head absent-minded, his eyes were roaming around the tavern in search of something or someone. Rackham poked him at the back of his head to bring him back to their conversation.

"What about you? Why have you not come to a decision yet? What is stopping you, or rather, should I say who is stopping you?"

Connor looked back at him sheepishly, "I do not know what you are talking about."

"If you are sure." Rackham drawled, "Now, if you will excuse me, I spotted Hother Umber there. I will go see if he wants to come along to the rat pit." He stood up and threw a few Copper Stars on the table, "Enjoy the next drink these will buy you. That will keep you sated till Anne comes in for her shift." He winked and left a spluttering Connor behind.

[CotW]

Anne sauntered at the table Connor was sitting, carrying a tankard of ale on her tray. She gave him a dazzling smile as she put the tankard on the table.

"Will you be needin' anythin' else, Ser?"

Connor looked up at her with a wide smile, "Your sweet company if you are offering, my dear lady."

Anne giggled bashfully, "Oh, I told you before, Ser, I ain't no lady."

"As I have told you before, I am not a knight but a humble man who craves for your attention."

Anne brushed her hand on Connor's arm, "You say the sweetest things, Ser, but you don' want me, you want a lady of your station, an' I am only a maid."

"And I do not care." Connor grasped for her hand and placed a gentle kiss on her palm, "It is you that I prefer, not your birth or where you work." He looked up at her imploringly, "Please, I beg of you, give me a chance."

Anne shifted on her feet uncomfortably, "I am workin' now, Ser."

Connor was adamant, "I will wait for you, please allow me the chance to court you."

Anne looked over her shoulder at the tavern owner, "Master will be angry if I don' get to work soon."

Connor frowned, "Fuck him! I will end his life if he even raises his voice at you."

"Oh." Anne bit her lips in thought, "I-I will go on a walk with you…as soon as I done tendin' here tables."

Connor relaxed back in his seat with a pleased smile, "That is all I ask of you, my lady. Go, do your duties, I will be right here."

[CotW]

Mary was shocked at the turns her life had taken so far. She was a child when she had left her home. Through the years, after all of her training, all the unpleasantness she had experienced in her journey, she never expected to fall in love. She had started out to seduce Connor because he had advanced quite far in his studies as an acolyte. Much farther than the other acolytes who came to the taverns after daylong studies. It was rumoured that Connor was the favourite of more than one Archmaesters for his intelligence and diligence in his lessons.

Mary could have gone after the Maesters who had already forged their links. But the Citadel had always taken care of its security. No Maester ever ventured out without guards, even when they were visiting a whorehouse, with the Citadel's blessing of course. Also, for some reasons, Jon Rackham was not very tolerable for the Maesters. Hence, Connor was the only way for her to lodge a foot inside of the impenetrable fortress. It also helped that the man was smitten by the serving maid, Anne Bonney.

While she had not been a maiden for a long time, seeing as how she had lost her innocence in pursuance of her goal, Connor had somehow wormed his way into her mind. She had lain with him as an act of seduction, but somehow, along the way, Mary had submitted her heart to Connor.

She shook her head to rid all of these thoughts from her head. She focused from her perch from atop a beam in the hall where the acolytes gather for their meals. She had snuck inside while donned the garb of a guard that she had stolen, but left the cumbersome armours at a secluded corner once she was inside and donned back her black outfit which helped her to become one with the shadows. She had climbed atop the beam and waited there for the men below her to finish partaking to their meals and clear out of the hall. As Anne, she had asked extensive questions to Connor after their coitus and had made a rudimentary map of the Citadel. She wanted to get inside the Grand Library and peruse through as many tomes as she could.

This was not the first time that she had snuck inside. The first time she came here, she made a mould of the key to library from the Archmaester who was in charge of it. It had taken Jon Rackham to pay a few discreet visit to the local smithy to get a key made from the mould. What she had found in the Library from the accounts of various Maesters, made her blood boil. The Citadel had worked for a long time to get the world rid of magic. They had abducted little children from North whose blood of the First Men flourished in their abilities of warging or green-seeing. Any indication of such children, and their men had invaded the Northern realm to abduct those poor babes. From Dorne, they had eradicated anyone with Rhoynish blood who claimed to have power over water. They even sent discreet parties beyond the Wall to search and find any signs of the Children. The detailed description of their depravation made Mary almost throw up the content of her stomach.

When the Targaryens came to this continent riding atop their huge magical beasts, they had retreated back into their shadows, for they were no match for the giant, fire-breathing dragons. They bided their time, and studied. They hounded after the physical aspects of those majestic creatures and learned from their observations. Slowly, they had started to poison the dragons, making the adult ones weak and any eggs they hatched, would give birth to deformed beings who hadn't last the month after the hatching.

Mary had taken extensive notes on these records, she was now after the names of the individuals who are still performing such tasks. So far, she had found that very few were of the different mind about magic. These people believed that magic should be studied and protected for the betterment of the known world. But they were very few in number.

A sound of footsteps broke Mary out of her concentration as she was meticulously writing down her notes. She closed the tome she was perusing and shoved it back at the shelf. A few quiet moments later, when she was about to release the breath she was holding unknowingly, the doors to the Library opened with a resounding crash. Armoured and armed guards came marching inside of the Library along with a man who appeared to be an Archmaester.

"Search every corner. The room was unlocked, which means the intruder is still here somewhere. And send someone down to where you have found the abandoned armours, the intruder may go back the way they came inside."

Mary cursed under her breath for her foolishness. She didn't hide the armours properly. Her mind was distracted lately with thoughts about Connor. She looked around from her position for any route she could use for her escape. But there was none save the doors and two guards were standing before it, none could go past them without alerting the rest.

Her Champion's mind helped her to keep calm and not to panic. She took a deep breath and once again looked for any possibility to take. Her eyes landed on the beams near the roof and she smirked. Quietly, she started to climb up the bookshelves. The shelves were as tall to almost touch the roof, thousands of years' knowledge and record were kept in this room, hence, it was no surprise that the shelves would be gigantic to hold the volumes of the tomes. Mary reached up for a beam and heaved herself up on it. She sat astride the beam and looked down to see the Maester standing at a side and directing the guards to various places of the room with torches in their hands. Carefully, she stood up on the beam, and started to walk towards the doors. When she was just above the men who stood guard at the doors, she crouched down and took a deep breath. She flicked her wrists to get the hidden blades out and jumped down from her perch. Her aim was true as she landed right on top of the men and the Valyrian steel blades went through their necks. The guards dropped dead where they stood.

The men inside of the room were alerted by the sound of the bodies adorned in armours collapsed on the floor. They looked disbelievingly at the short, hooded, black clad figure who stood over their fallen brethren with blood dripping from their hands. They were brought back to reality when the Maester yelled shrilly –

"After them!"

The figure turned and ran away from the room, chased by dozens of armed guards. The ran after the individual through the corridors of the Citadel, but it seemed that the figure didn't know the whereabouts of the fortress very well. Thus, even while the person in black was fast on their feet, the guards, cumbered down with the weight of their armours and arms, could keep up with the person.

Mary was breathing very hard, the sudden bout of faint made her stop and lean against the wall. She was confused at her weakness. She had overcome even harder obstacles than this, but never before had she felt this weak. Her moment of distraction proved to be detrimental as a guard caught up with her and swung his sword at her. At the last moment, Mary managed to bend away from the incoming blade, but still, it grazed the side of her body, making her yell out in pain. She brought her hand down to her side to feel the wound. Her hand came out red with the blood that started to flow abundantly. Rage filled her vision as the guard once again lunged at her with his sword. She caught the blade with her hidden blade and pivoted around the man, she thrusted her hand at the back of his neck and the other hidden blade went through the flesh without any deterrent.

She knew that she won't last long at the rate she was losing blood. She looked around for any way that could help her escape. She could hear the footsteps of the other guards coming nearer with every passing moment. She needed to find a way out and sooner. Her eyes fell upon the small windows that were right near at the top of the celling. Since this corridor and the Library were under the ground level, the small windows could lead to the grounds outside. Mary took a deep breath and ran forward towards the wall. She jumped and grabbed hold of one of the scones that held the torches. She swung herself up and let go of the scone. She managed to find purchase with the tip of her fingers in the brickworks and started to climb up the sheer wall. She was about to reach the windows when the pursuing guards had reached her position and found the slain guard on the floor. They looked about in search for her and saw her climbing up the walls. Mary felt fortunate that the guards weren't carrying bows and arrows. Amongst the shouts, she had reached the windows and pulled herself through the small opening. Soon, she was outside of the confining innards of the Citadel and disappeared within the darkness.

[CotW]

Hother Umber was sleeping peacefully in his bed at the tavern room he was renting. His father, Lord Hoarfrost Umber had send his son to the Citadel since he asked to be spared from the duties of the lords for his preference of learning. Lord Hoarfrost was quiet angry at his eldest son's request, since his brother Mors, was a cad who was never seen without a tankard of ale in his hands or for the fact that he had yet to spend a night in his own bed since he had reached his majority and discovered the pleasures of whorehouses. Mors was not someone who would become a responsible lord. That left their youngest brother, Jon, the wee lad was yet to wean of their mother's teats, let alone becoming the heir to Last Hearth. But Hother begged and pleaded at his father to no end, and much to his consternation, Lord Hoarfrost was finally convinced by Lord Rickard to let his son go and pursue his dreams. At the end, Jon was declared the heir with Mors to act as his regent if the unthinkable happened and Lord Hoarfrost died before Jon reached his majority. The Umber Lord had managed to get an oath out of Lord Stark that he would personally see to it that his house stood tall in case of his absence. So, it all resulted with Hother finally able to come to Oldtown to study, and he had been doing that along with pursuing pleasures at the bottom of wine barrels and within fleshes of nubile residents of the whorehouses.

His sleep was disturbed with an incessant knocking sound that came from the closed window. Irritated, he got up from his bed and thundered towards the window to wrench it open.

"Who the fuck are you to knock at my window at this Godsforsaken hour?"

A raspy voice replied from the darkness, "Dóttirr ór Norðriinn er requesting aið ok sanctuary fran sonrr ór Norðririnn." (A daughter of the North is requesting aid and sanctuary from a son of the North.)

Immediately, any remnant of sleep disappeared from Hother's visage and he became alert, "Hverr eru þú ok hví skulu ek gørþúr aið eðsanctuaryr?" (Who are you and why should I offer you aid or sanctuary?)

"Allow mik til kominnir ok ek munu explain." (Allow me to come inside and I will explain.)

Hother needed a moment to decide, "Mjök vel, þú megkomar inni, en beware, ek em armeð ok ek munu eigi hesitate til nýtatt þat skulu þú prove til munu dangerr til minn maðr." (Very well, you can come inside, but beware, I am armed and I will not hesitate to use it should you prove to be a danger to my person.)

Hother stood back from the window and soon enough, a black clad figure stumbled inside the room. He became alarmed when he saw that the person was bleeding profusely from a wound to their side. He hurried forward to keep the person steady and helped them to sit on his bed.

"You have my thanks, Lord Umber."

"You were not japing about wanting my aid." Hother stated warily.

"Aye, I didn't." The person lowered their hood to reveal their face to Hother, making him take a step back in shock.

"Anne from Quill and Tankard. What were you up to, lass?"

"I am afraid that I cannot tell you, Lord Umber, kindly forgive me for that. But I can assure you, whatever I am doing, it is for the benefit for the North as well as the Seven Kingdoms."

"And I am supposed to believe that? By your words only?"

"Of course not, My Lord. Allow me to introduce myself properly. My true name is Mare Anne of House Reed. I am the daughter of Lord Daniel Reed, niece of Lord Charles Reed of the Greywater Watch."

Hother's eyes went wide hearing that, "You are the missing Reed daughter? Rumour has it that you had run away with some unknown lover and perished a long time ago."

"While I did run away from my home, I did it so with my lord father's knowledge and blessing. The reason for doing so, I cannot divulge. Suffice to say that I am acting on behalf of the Gods."

Hother chuckled, "Of that, I have no doubt. You crannogmen, above all, a member of the House Reed can't be anything other than the devout follower of the Old Gods and the true Northerner."

Mary coughed and spat out a glob of blood, "I am happy to hear that from you, My Lord. Now, could you please help me with this thing?" She indicated to the wound at her side.

"Oh, of course, lass." Hother knelt down to look closer at the wound, "It is a deep gash and need to be treated immediately lest it festers. Um…you need to remove your clothes, My Lady…"

"Please, Lord Umber, I have not been a lady for a long time. And I have also given away my modesty with my title along the way."

She whimpered in pain as she tried to remove her garbs. Face alight in embarrassment, Hother gave a hand to the woman to help her divest of clothing from her torso. The giant of a man got up and rummaged through his possessions. He had earned his link on medicine during his stay at the Oldtown after all.

He treated and stitched the wound before wrapping it up in a bandage. He spoke while he was finishing the job –

"This here wound is all taken care of. Do you have any other ailment?"

"Aye, I did feel faint while I was running away from the guards of the Citadel."

Hother looked up at her amusedly, "You were running away from the guards of the Citadel? This is another thing that you can't tell me, I wager?"

"I am afraid so, My Lord."

"Fair enough. Tell me, lass, when was the last time you have eaten?"

"During supper as usual."

"And you do not have any fever or cold?"

"Not to my knowledge, no."

Hother frowned in thought, "Do I have your permission to touch your body?"

Mary smirked at the man she had known to be a regular visitor to all the local whorehouses, "You are my healer at the moment, My Lord. You do have my permission."

Hother blushed but nodded his head, he put his hands on Mary's stomach and pressed at various spots. He looked closely at her eyes and then, after some thoughts, he cupped her breasts and handled them in such a way as if he was weighing them.

"You are with child, lass. There is a little one growing up in your womb."

"What?!" She had gone white at his proclamation.

"Aye, that is what my knowledge in medicine tells me at a glance. There is a chance that mayhaps I am wrong, but I hardly doubt that."

Mary had her face hidden in her hands. She was trembling, not from the chill in the air, but from the impact of Hother Umber's words. The Umber lord could hear her mutterings –

"It cannot be true…I cannot be pregnant…not now…"

"Are you alright, lass?"

"No! I am not fucking alright! I am with child all of a sudden for fuck's sake!" She snarled back at him.

Hother nodded his head, "The father…um…is he around?"

"Aye, he is. And I need to find him. Now." She tried to get up but lost her balance and crashed down on the bed.

Hother put his hand on Mary's shoulder, "Stay here. You have lost a lot of blood tonight. You are not going anywhere."

"But…"

"Stay here, lass. This is your healer's order." Hother replied sternly, he moved over to his small wardrobe and rummaged inside and took out a shirt, "Here, change your clothes for the night. You can have the bed. I will kip under the window."

A while later when the both of them were trying to fall asleep, Mary asked Hother, "Why did you trust me, Lord Umber?"

Hother sighed, "You spoke in the Old Tongue, lass. None but the true Northerners know the language of our ancestors nowadays. And I can see the Reeds in your face. It was not that hard for me to trust you after that."

"You have my thanks for everything, Lord Umber."

"Think nothing of it, lass."

[CotW]

They woke up the next morning to the sound of someone pounding on the door.

Hother yelled from his place under the window, "Who the fuck are you and what do you want?"

"Open the door this instant!" Came the answer.

"Why?"

"Order from the Citadel! Open this door or I will break it down!"

Both the occupants of the room were awake now. Mary had positioned herself beside the doors while Hother got up from his makeshift bed, "Alright, alright. I am coming. Hold your horses." He wrenched open the doors and yelled at the guard who was pounding on the doors. "What the fuck do you want?"

"Move out of the way, I need to inspect the room."

"And why the fuck should I do that?"

The guard pushed at Hother to forcefully come inside the room, "That is enough out of you. Move you fucking savage."

Hother had stumbled a few steps from the sudden push but he righted himself immediately, with a scream, he launched himself at the man. The guard had managed to free his sword from its sheath, but the Umber lord landed atop of him and pried the blade out of his hand. He didn't give any chance to the guard and drove the sword at his chest, drenching Hother's front with warm blood.

He took a step out of the room to look around. Seeing none of the other guards around, he came back inside and hissed at Mary, "Change back quickly and go out the way you came in last night. I will take care of this."

"Lord Umber…"

"Are you still fucking here?"

Mary mutely changed her garbs and wrapped herself in a borrowed cloak from the lord to hide her bloodied clothes. She spared a glance to the man who had shown her a level of trust even beyond her expectations. She gave him a small nod and jumped out of the window."

[CotW]

The owner of Quill and Tankard grumbled to himself about irresponsive helps as he busied himself wiping the tables when a timid voice from behind made him stop.

"Master…"

He spun around to face the whore he hired to serve at the tavern, "Now ye come to work? After alla morning I done everythin' by meself, now ye show yer fuckin' face?"

"I was sick, mastar. An'…an' I come to tell ye that me brother an' me are goin' away. I can't work here no more…"

"What?! Who the fuck do ye think ye are? I oughtta…no…nope, I ain't touchin yer disease-riddled body. Get the fuck outta here before ye get me sick. An' I ain't pain' ye for this month…ye dinnit work it fer the matter."

"Sure, master…um…"

"Ye still here? What more do ye want? Me blood?"

"No, master…umm…was Connor here?"

"That fuckin' cunt o' lover o' yer was got caught by them guards of Citadel. An' if ye don' leave this moment, me gonna call them guards an' have ye thrown in the gaol too."

"I am goin', master…"

They had caught Connor! But how did they come to know of him. – the thought ran through her mind.

[CotW]

Mary once more was prowling inside of the Citadel after the dark. This time, she was not going for the Library, she was trying to find where they were keeping Connor imprisoned. Her blood had run cold when she heard from the tavern owner that the guards came and hauled him away. She had to free her at any cost.

She had gone to find Hother Umber so she could give him the journal containing her findings, just to make sure that it remained hidden from the Maesters of the Citadel. But she had found that the Umber lord was thrown out of the city. He was brought before the Hightowers for killing the guard at the morning. Hother had spun a tale that the guard forced his way in his room and in a drunken fit, attacked him with his sword, so Hother had to defend himself and in the ensuing struggle, slew the guard. The Hightower lord had apparently seen evidence of the guard's drunkenness and didn't take action against Hother. Furthermore, the guard had attacked a noble unprovoked, hence, Hother didn't commit any crime for defending himself. But still, he had taken a life within the limit of the city so the lord was dutybound to take action for that and had banished Hother from the city forever.

So far, Mary's search had proven to be fruitless. She looked almost everywhere but didn't find anywhere that could be used as the gaol. She thought that the Maester could have handed over Connor to the Hightowers, but she had kept a close watch on the fortress for the entirety of the day and hadn't seen any such movement. So, if they indeed had Connor in their clutches, then he was bound to be inside of the Citadel somewhere.

She had managed to make her way to the topmost floor of the Citadel which was used to house the Archmaesters. As she slowly walked along the corridors, keeping to the shadows, she could hear a faint sound of shifting shackles and painful groans of a man coming from a room. She took a chance and pushed open the doors of the said room, as fortune would have it, she had indeed found her man.

"Connor!" She whisper-shouted as she rushed into the room.

Connor looked at him with shocked eyes, "Anne?! What are you doing here?"

"I came to rescue you, of course." She was so happy to find him.

"What are you wearing? And…your speech, why do you sound so different?"

"That is a long story, Connor, which I will tell you later. Now, let me see if I can free you from this shackles." She turned around to block his view with her body and pushed her hidden blade through the locks to make a short work out of them. Soon, she had Connor freed and standing beside her, rubbing his wrists and ankles where the chains were.

"Do you think you can move?"

Connor chuckled, "They have roughened me a bit, but I can move on my own."

"Wonderful, now come on, we need to get out of here. Quietly and quickly."

"Of course, but you are going to tell me why the guards suddenly captured me, and why are you wearing whatever it is you are wearing…and a whole lot of other things, I reckon."

"Sure, first let us get out of here and I will tell you everything."

The two of them quietly came out of the room and crept the way she had come. After going for a bit and taking a turn, Connor stopped her, "That way will take us to the barracks. Did you come from that way? How is it that you were not caught?"

Mary frowned at the way laid ahead of them, "I am not sure I came this way, I could have taken a wrong turn."

Connor put a gentle hand on her shoulder, "Then allow me to show the way." Mary nodded her head in assent and they continued on a different path. After a while, they could hear loud footsteps approaching them, "The guards are coming, quickly, hide in here." Connor hissed into her ears and shoved her through a set of doors nearby.

Mary had her ear pressed on the doors to listen to the footsteps. Once, she was sure that the guards were gone, she spoke, "We can go now, Connor, they are gone." When she didn't hear her reply, she turned around to see, and pressed herself flat against the doors in shock and fear.

The room was full of guards of the Citadel. That was not all, there was also a large table around which sat robed, old men who Mary had thought to be the Archmaesters, and among them all, stood Connor, a cruel smirk prominent on his face.

"Connor? What are you…"

A guard stepped forward and punched her in the face. His studded glove cut into her skin and her lips started to bleed. The guard hauled her up by her hair and shoved her forward towards the table. Another guard came along to stand beside them. The two man twisted her arms behind her back and held them there. Mary could do nothing but glare around at everybody. Connor is a traitor! – the only thought ran through her mind.

One of the Maesters waved his hand negligently, and Connor stepped forward, "I once knew a man. He was a smart and gentle man. He was appointed as the Maester at Pinkmaiden for House Piper."

Mary's eyes widened, that was the first man she had killed.

"To my immense shock when I went there for a visit, only to find that he was slain brutally within his own chambers. There was no trace of the killer. I couldn't have laid it to rest, no, for I had much respect for the man. So, I asked around, trying to find if anything was amiss. Then I heard about a new maid who was hired not too long ago before the murder. She was said to be timid and hard worker, a good help for the household. But, she has quit not so long after the Maester's death. I didn't think about it much at that time. It could have been a shock to know that the Maester was brutally slain and too much to take for a gentle soul."

Connor was pacing in front of her. Suddenly he stopped and peered into her face, "Then, a few months later, another respected Maester was killed, this time, at Ashemark. Again, the killer was not found. Years went by, again and again news came to us about our dear friends and teachers who were forcefully taken from us. Not only the Maesters, no, there were also some nobles who have lost their lives in the similar way, but nowhere, was the killer found.

I discreetly made a few investigations, what information I could gather were generally not that alarming, but when you compare them with others, they do paint a bloody image. There was always one individual who has recently joined the household and then suddenly left after the killing. The name of the person, why it is Anne Bonney. She was not always the maid, of course, sometimes, she was the cook, sometimes the washwoman. But every time, the same pattern appeared. She joined the household, the Maester or the lord was slain, she left the household in seemingly broken hearted. Now, imagine my surprise when I found the very same Anne Bonney has found herself a job at the foot of the Citadel."

Mary was glaring hard at Connor. Once again, she was bleeding at this fucking place. "Who are you?" She growled at him.

The man whom she knew to be Connor, looked at her amusedly, "Oh, Did I not introduce myself? How rude of me. My true name is Haytham Kenway, trusted acolyte and soon to be a Maester." He bowed to her with a flourish.

Mary looked at Connor…Haytham with wide eyes, "You are Edward's son?"

Haytham reeled back at her question, "You know him? How…? Is he the one behind all these?"

Mary didn't answer his questions, instead, she said, "He will be so disappointed in you to know what you have become." She sneered at him.

Haytham's shock had turned into blazing anger as he backhanded Mary, "What I have become? WHAT I HAVE BECOME? Do not speak about things that you know nothing about. I am what I am today through my own hard work. Do you think I care about what he thinks? I care the same as he cared for us…which is ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOTHING!" He screamed at her.

Mary shook her head, "You are wrong. He did care for -"

She was cut off by an enraged Haytham who had started to yell at her, "If he cared, then he should have been there for us! He should have been there when my mother had fallen ill and we didn't have enough money for her medicines! He should have been there when my sister was abducted by bandits and then raped and killed in the woods! No, all he cared for was some fucking myth for which he has dedicated his entire being!"

A Maester loudly cleared his throat and put a stop to Haytham's rantings. He took a few deep, calming breaths and turned towards the table, "Forgive me, Maesters, for losing my composure. She did provoke some long forgotten feelings, but still, I have no excuse. It won't happen again." He gave them a deep bow.

He turned back to Mary and glared at her, "It was not only you who were connected to all these killings. Another name came in our investigation – Mary Reed. Which we imagine to be a false name that you were using at those times. But what we truly want to know is who is this Jon Rackham? Where did he come from? Is he your lover?"

Mary looked back at Haytham with incredulity. The absurdity of his questions had rendered her speechless. It started with a snort, but soon enough, she was cackling like a mad woman. She was laughing so hard that it was difficult for her to stand upright. Only her captors made her stay on her feet.

"What are you laughing about, you savage bitch?" Haytham snarled at her.

"Savage bitch…" Mary tried her best to control her laughter, "Aye, to you cowardly cunts, I mayhaps appear as a savage bitch. But you cannot even fathom who I am, what I truly am."

"Oh? And what are you?" Haytham sneered at her.

Mary gave him a feral smile, with her bloodied teeth, it became even more vicious.

"I am a Champion!"

Mary flexed her wrists to bring out the blades, the Valyrian steel blades struck true and her captors went down screaming, holding the side the blades had pierced through their armours, leaving her free to move. She leaped forward and kneed Haytham into the chest, sending him to the ground. She straddled his chest and looked down on him with saddened eyes, "You know, I truly loved you." But at the next moment, her visage changed from saddened to enraged. She raised her right hand above her head and spoke, "In the name of your father, I sentence you to die." She brought her hand down with a yell and drove the hidden blade through Haytham's heart.

She looked up from the convulsing man to see that the half of the guards in the room had drawn their weapons and were converging upon her, whereas the other half was guarding the retreating Maesters who were scrambling to get out of the room. Mary leapt back and picked up the sword from one of the fallen guards. She bent her knees and readied herself for a fight, a fight she was not sure if she would come out alive of it.

[CotW]

Mary didn't know for how long she fought or ran. She simply went through the motions. Her mind was numb since she had to take the life of the man she truly loved, she killed the father of her unborn child. She had found herself standing at the top of a tower of the Citadel. There was no way out from where she had ended up. She could hear the incoming footsteps of the guards that were pursuing him, bent on getting revenge on her for killing their brethren. She truly didn't know how many lives she had taken that night. Her only regret was that she was not able to kill one or two Archmaester in her killing spree.

Mary greeted her teeth as she pulled the bolt that was stuck to her right calf, making her entire right leg useless. The guards had learned from their mistakes. When they saw that in close combat, they couldn't subdue her, they had sent for ranged attack. Archers and Crossbowmen surrounded her but still, she managed to evade almost all of them.

Mary sighed in tiredness as she looked down at herself. Her clothes were in tatters, there were numerous cuts and gashes littered her body. Her right leg was now useless; it was trembling just from her standing still. The sword in her hand seemed to have gained a sudden weight that made it difficult for her to lift it, let alone wield it to fight.

She knew that she won't be getting out of here alive, after all these years of living alone, pushing herself forward just to finish the task which was entrusted to her by the Gods – everything came crashing down to this moment. She was so very tired. She wanted to stop. She wanted to finally sleep in peace. She wanted to be back in her own room at Greywater Watch., she wanted to see her father once more. She wanted to laugh with her brother. She wanted to prank her lord uncle. She wanted to be there for her babe. But she couldn't. She was very, very tired.

Mary placed a hand on her abdomen, "I am sorry, my love." She whispered, "I am sorry that I couldn't live for you. I am sorry for I couldn't bring you to life. I am so tired, love, I just want to sleep."

Mary dropped the sword from her hand. The commotion was coming nearer and nearer. Soon, the guards will come on to the roof. She turned around and dragged her tired self onto the parapet. She stood on the precipice and looked below at the churning waves of the Honeywine river. It felt so welcoming to her. She smiled and looked up towards the sky. The darkness of the night was slowly dissipating. A new day, a new beginning. Or mayhaps, a different ending for a change.

Mary dove forward, wind whistled past her ears. She looked on curiously as the water below her approached her rapidly. She was plunged into cold darkness. Something inside of her urged him to flex her limbs, but her tired, leaden limbs remained unresponsive to her. Soon, the darkness was all she could feel…and then there was nothing.

[CotW]

Aemon Targaryen, who was also known as Jon Snow, woke from his sleep breathing hard, he looked wildly around himself to see if he was indeed in his own bed, inside of the same tent.