The Hollow of Harrenhall [IC]

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oathkeeper
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The Hollow of Harrenhall [IC] Aug 1, 2014 19:03:54 GMT -6

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Post by oathkeeper on Aug 1, 2014 19:03:54 GMT -6

Fire flickered and danced around Jon's face, the bastard weary of descending down into the dungeons once again but willing to push aside his inner concerns for his beloved sister. Torches that were placed firmly against the stone walls barely illuminated the staircase downwards, their fuel almost but all burnt out and leaving only but remnants. Oddly, the oldest son of Eddard Stark had no difficulty proceeding down the steps in the dim conditions, as if his own stoic eyes had gotten adjusted to the near pitch blackness that would drive any man to insanity and back.

Tensing as the rattling of soft footsteps abruptly filled his ear, for a moment Jon placed a firm hand on the pommel of Longclaw, feeling the adorned head of a direwolf representing Ghost in his gloved hands. This stance would not last forever, however, as from the darkness Jon could see a familiar figure bolt to him with a joyous intention it would appear. Holding back choking on his breath in pure relief, the deserter crouched onto a knee, and from the darkness into the fading light Arya Stark soon threw herself into his arms once more.

"Damn it, Arya, don't scare me like that." Jon scowled roughly, though partially feeling regret for his bitter words. How could he blame the girl? Jon had not the slightest of clues what she had to endure, let only what horrid sights were before her. Dementedly, part of the Night's Watchman pondered if she was really *her*, as if there were only fragments of her shattered mind and nothing more. A masquerade of sanity could easily be pulled, and if worse came to worse, Jon would do everything in his power to restore what was already hollowed and broken...even if it meant treating her like that of a war prisoner than a sister.

But until such drastic measures had to be taken, the half-brother knew he had duty and responsibility. One vow had already been forsaken in his life, so in the sake of redemption and for the love of his family, the black-haired, young, strong man was not about to let go. Deeply sighing, Jon faintly smiled, picking up Longclaw after it was accidentally pulled out of it's sheath and confusingly looked down at Arya. She spoke as if she had not seen him before, possibly amnesia? Deciding to keep quiet and let the events play out, Jon followed Arya as he felt his hand tugged at, sitting upon the concrete ground as he watched the girl dug in some small tunnel in search for Needle.

"The Night's Watch isn't in Harrenhall, Arya...just me. D-Don't worry about Needle either, I got a blacksmith grinding it back." Jon started slowly and carefully, trying to paraphrase his words carefully, softly, and tenderly. Scooting over to sit beside Arya, the black-cloaked young man softly wrapped an arm around his baby sister, hanging his head low for a moment before looking down at her. "I was hoping you would answer me that, Arya. Do...do you not remember me finding you down here? At all?" Jon questioned, hoping that his approach to slowly converse with Arya would suceed in easing her troubled mind.

Lillian Gray
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King in the North

Good god, let me give you my life.

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The Hollow of Harrenhall [IC] Aug 2, 2014 13:10:19 GMT -6

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Post by Lillian Gray on Aug 2, 2014 13:10:19 GMT -6

So Needle was safe then. That solved one problem, but then again, what really did happen? Arya pressed the back of her head to the cold walls of the cell, deep in thought. From what she was able to remember, there was the Hound. Gendry and Hot Pie, her two friends she'd met on the road to the Wall. A breeze in the beginning, travelling to the wall, before they were captured and dragged to hell.

"After father's execution, I went to find you...I think. Yoren cut my hair and made me go, made me look like a boy." Not that she minded the new haircut, but it all happened so fast, she hardly had the time to mourn. "We were supposed to go to the Wall but that never happened. I think, maybe it was someone in King's Landing, the Hound came after us."

Was it really all of them? Or perhaps Arya alone. It was so hard to tell, such a long time ago, and she hadn't given it a thought since being taken to Harrenhall. Now that she was telling the story it seemed to make the most sense. Why would one man be sent to capture a whole batch of recruits bound for the Wall, it wouldn't. That's what.

"Or maybe me, I'm not sure."

Maybe it was because she was below ground, feeling safe in the cell which hid her, but Arya's head felt clear and she was able to speak without screaming in the pain of the dark, or rubbing dirt off her cheek. The very cell they sat in was indeed hers in the time she'd been holed up. The crevice in the wall was a perfect space for the girl to fit, unnoticeable unless peering on your hands and knees at the space. The torchlight never found the crack.

"They tortured us. Some died. Others went mad." Like me? "The Hound he...he could split a man in two if he didn't talk right. He killed my friend. Didn't even see the bastard's blade comin'."

Hot Pie.

"You didn't happen to see a boy, by chance, he...tall, dark hair, a blacksmith." Arya blurted the question, sidetracked from the story of a brutal battle for survival at Harrnehall by the North and the Hound. "For a while he carried this helmet, but, he probably doesn't...never mind. He's probably dead, too."

She couldn't bring herself to say another word. The torture and pain came back to her like a hot flame, scorching down her spine with a white hot fire. Arya watched her friends die, one by one, the rest were either gone or taken when the Hound left. Northerners, Stark men, Lannisters, all prisoners to the mongrel.

oathkeeper
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The Hollow of Harrenhall [IC] Aug 5, 2014 20:25:04 GMT -6

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Post by oathkeeper on Aug 5, 2014 20:25:04 GMT -6

"Joining the Night's Watch? I'd admit, I wouldn't of recognized you with that hair at first glance, Arya." Jon uttered softly, raising his right hand to lightly puff and run his fingers through his sister's short, unfamiliar, and boyish hair. In a way, the bastard had silently liked the new style in her appearance, swearing that The Old Gods were slowly morphing her into that of a boy. Such idly thoughts and conversations were brutally silenced in the deserter's minds, however, as the safety and well-being on Arya came before any sort of humor or casual conversations.

She is my sister in soul, but her mind is still wary, Jon mentally remind, somberly knowing he had to be a bit more cautious with his words. Distant gazes and empty eyes filled her facial expressions from the Night's Watchmen's standpoint, and the more he saw her, the more the half-brother felt bits and pieces of him hollow and die away. All-in-all, she was still but a pitiful sight, and this only amplified his loyalty not as a soldier but as a brother.

For awhile, Jon had remained quiet, letting Arya slowly and carefully explain her own tale of what had been happening over the years. What perplexed and slightly unsettled the black-haired swordsman was how the youngest Stark daughter seemed to be revising her tale and unsure of her own memory. Insanity had a wide arrange of effects on an individual, and whilst Jon held only limited medical knowledge, it was clear Arya had a long road to recover. With her unable to return to Winterfell in the fear of bandits, however, the conditions to this recovery would be against both her and Jon.

Shaking his head at Arya's question, Jon sighed heavily as he pulled the petite child closer with his lone arm wrapped around her. "If I could tell you the difference between a Lannister and Northerner from the dead, Arya, I would be as wise as a Pentosi scholar." the only illegitimate child of Eddard Stark sadly uttered, recoiling and resisting a tremble at the remains of the fallen from this brutal conflict. In war, there are certain times when the bodies of two sides simply meld as one, banners meaning nothing and only the dead chanting the loudest of words.

Adjusting himself in his position, the strong-willed Snow simply offered his body as comfort, idly running his fingers through Arya's hair to wipe away any remaining grime and filth as his ash eyes examined the cell around the two close siblings. "I know you are scared and I know you have many, many questions...especially on why I am here," Jon started softly, directing his face downwards as he did his best to catch Arya's gaze. "But for now, please, trust me. We can't go back home yet, and if the Lannisters found out you were here, I hate to imagine what they would do with Sansa. I'll be looking after you until this war is over, Robb is stressed from this war and Bran is struggling to keep The North together."

Softly nodding to himself, Jon leaned down to kiss his baby sister's forehead, hugging her softly but comfortably.

"I missed you, Arya, know that...even if you forget everything else."

Lillian Gray
Lil'Meister the Admin

King in the North

Good god, let me give you my life.

Posts: 1,597

The Hollow of Harrenhall [IC] Aug 5, 2014 21:58:36 GMT -6

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Post by Lillian Gray on Aug 5, 2014 21:58:36 GMT -6

"I missed you, too." She admitted. It had been hard on the road, she missed everyone.

There'd always been a special connection between Arya and Jon. Where Sansa preferred her needlework and tea parties, Arya wanted to be outside with her brothers, raising a sword high in the air alongside them. Her father hadn't allowed it then, but it never stopped her from trying. Jon was her lifeline to the sword, and now he'd be her true lifeline. He had to keep her far from the prying hands of the Lannisters who thought her dead.

Suddenly, it made her vengeance towards the Hound all the more urgent.

"Jon, the Hound." She blurted her words and stood from his comforting arms. "He knows I'm alive, he'll tell the Lannisters, we have to find him." As if Arya could run across the entirety of Westeros in an hour, she wanted to move, wanted to slit the man's throat herself, wring his neck with her fragile hands. What he'd done was unspeakable, the list of crimes never ending.

The rage flooded her mind once more and she howled his name like an animal. "I'm gonna kill him, Jon, Jon we have to find him, now." She demanded. "He killed Hot Pie, maybe Gendry, burned us all to get information!"

She said it as if it were old news what he'd done. The burn was red and raw beneath her dress, a detail forgotten among the madness. Not important compared to the rest of her problems. The Hound hated fire so badly she was surprised it was his weapon of choice, perhaps his past allowed him to see the effectiveness of fire as torture, something in his own twisted mind which compelled him to burn them all. Though their scars would remain hidden, others bore them on their faces like banners. Some, were not so lucky. It was the rats for them.

oathkeeper
Resident Jackass

"Take the Black"

Posts: 63

The Hollow of Harrenhall [IC] Aug 6, 2014 8:05:21 GMT -6

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Post by oathkeeper on Aug 6, 2014 8:05:21 GMT -6

In days of yore, the connection between Arya and Jon had been more than welcomed by the deserter. There was this admiration for her spirit, but no true appreciation for the talents the Northerner could have. While father was reminded of the sister who never saw pass twenty years, the bastard saw only potential and deviance. Both were outcasts, one by choice, the other forced under a strict society. Through it all, the two understood each other, and saw themselves not under titles but as that of family. Why, even how they held similar appearances in eye color and hair color, whilst minor, only strengthen this bond in Jon's mind.

However, those were but distinct and fond memories, and even as the bastard held his half-sister affectionately in his arms, the deserter knew that those times would never come again. Everyone had suffered since Father's death in some way, that was evident, and grimly Jon feared what hell Sansa was enduring through. Being stuck like some prisoner in the den of those cutthroats and lions Still, he had to focus his attention on Arya for now, as it was his duty to protect and aid her fleeting mind and soul.

Unsurprisingly, the longing moment of comfort between the two siblings would soon be short-lived. Even under clear protection, Jon had noted how Arya still seemed tense and ready for war. She was a little soldier in many ways, stronger than some Northerner soldiers in being able to endure what unspoken horrors occurred in the ruins of Harrenhall. Looking up at the petite girl as she slurred and practically yelled in vengeance for the man that caused her all this suffering, the bastard was at a loss for words.

The Hound is a mighty man, a ruthless one at that, but from what the former Night's Watchman remembered he served by that filth of Joffery's side as some makeshift *guard-dog*. So, why would he be in Harrenhall? Biting the bottom of his lip, Jon figured it would simply be another question that had no answer at the moment. Reaching up to gently rub the scruff of his forming beard, the bastard calmly and surely began to reassure his hellbent and bloodthirsty sister.

"He doesn't know you are alive, and if he did...there is nothing we can do about that." Jon sighed heavily, arising onto his feet and looking down upon his sister warmly. "Fifty-thousand Southerners are greeting us and we need to be together to get through this all. I promise you, Arya, we'll get our revenge for what he did to you and your friends." the deserter falsely promise, still having doubts in his head. "Night is falling soon, are you not hungry or tired? I know you still cry for revenge, but you need to be strong to even consider a man like The Hound." the oldest offspring of Eddard Stark explained, reaching over to feel Arya's arm and note how skinny and bony it still was.

Lillian Gray
Lil'Meister the Admin

King in the North

Good god, let me give you my life.

Posts: 1,597

The Hollow of Harrenhall [IC] Aug 7, 2014 23:11:41 GMT -6

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Post by Lillian Gray on Aug 7, 2014 23:11:41 GMT -6

Arya pouted, knowing her bastard brother was right. What use was there pondering how best to kill the Hound when he was miles, days, who knew how long away. Still the fire in her heart called for his head on a pike, something to poke her needle through, and in the end she found herself only musing about how best to skewer him anyways. He'd killed her friends, the only thing she had since leaving King's Landing in a hurry. She had no direwolf to call her own, a brother or sister at her side, she'd been alone and he took it from her.

"I'm tired, I suppose." The girl offered up. "But I'm not that hungry, not really."

Be it the poor appetite she'd been holding the past few months, or the rot of the dungeons, Arya didn't have it in her to scarf down a heavy meal. If her insides took in any food, they'd only reject it later and she'd be sick for days. Jon wanted her to eat, thankfully someone cared enough to revive her senses back to their usual state.

When Jon felt her arm, it only reminded her of how frail she was. Instead of being able to pull away, it hurt her to be under his grip. She hated feeling so powerless when all she wanted to do was run down the beaten bath and slay the entire army of Harrenhall single handed. What kind of girl had that strength in the first place? Not a single name came to mind, but she wanted it to be her own. Arya Stark, slayer of the King's Dog. It didn't ring pretty in her ears, but the tune might be acquired by those who understood.

"I'm sorry." She sighed, standing and gripping his arm for support. "I didn't mean to frighten you. It's dark down here, and I'm spouting nonsense." Arya's eyes drifted to her feet. She was just a child in a man's war.

oathkeeper
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"Take the Black"

Posts: 63

The Hollow of Harrenhall [IC] Aug 16, 2014 22:38:22 GMT -6

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Post by oathkeeper on Aug 16, 2014 22:38:22 GMT -6

The shattered form of Arya before the deserter still haunted him in the darkness, clawing at the back of his mind like that of a feral beast. Doubt lingered and soon followed suite, the stoic eyes both Stark children held exchanging their gazes. As much as the Night's Watchman wanted to believe, he feared that there was little of what he knew of Arya remained. There was no joy, no sense of adventure, and the bravery she held burned with that of fury instead of childish passion. Revenge cried in her heart, and as much as Jon agreed with his beloved baby sister, the man wondered how willing Arya would go to get such revenge.

Wincing as he nodded softly to himself, the bastard crouched down before his sister. The grip on her arm had remained subtle yet stern, Jon's heart practically practicing at feeling the lack of muscle on it. Feeling her clench his arm for comfort, Jon daringly reached out to lift Arya up into his arms, intent on holding his baby sister like that a father would an infant daughter. Jon knew Arya was fiercely strong and independent, almost to the point where signs of affection whilst welcomed were shunned in the sake of honor and glory. So, naturally, the black-haired bastard knew he would get some sort of retribution for the pampering, but for now he felt it was necessary for his sister's sanity.

"Lets get you to bed and forget this happened. If you want, I can see if we can spar in the tomorrow morning before we leave...a'ye, Needle should be sharpen and ready by then." Jon proposed hopefully,, half-expecting a fury of fists to come sprawling at his bearded face for carrying her like this. Smiling confidentially, the oldest *Stark* hastily directed his way hopefully out of the dungeons once more, knowing that darkness was evident upon the surface.

"Oh, and I got another present for you as well before we leave but...well, I'll show you that later, and no, it is not another Needle." Jon heart-fully chuckled, trying to force the obvious masquerade of a sense of relaxation around the husk of a girl that was in his arms.

Nothing more than an act underneath a worried and war-torn sibling.

Lillian Gray
Lil'Meister the Admin

King in the North

Good god, let me give you my life.

Posts: 1,597

The Hollow of Harrenhall [IC] Aug 17, 2014 15:21:01 GMT -6

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Post by Lillian Gray on Aug 17, 2014 15:21:01 GMT -6

Fight she did. Arya hated to be the weak defenseless creature she currently was. Jon easily picking her up, carrying her in his arms, she thrashed around for a moment before realizing how truly exhausted she was. After having her moment of irritation, the Stark girl laid her head against his thick boiled armor and grumbled into the black leather.

"You didn't have to pick me up." She said.

Gifts were nice though, which perked her attention greatly. After all she was still a child, no matter how aged and ragged she seemed. Her head cocked back against his arm and stared up into familiar eyes. They may have only been half Stark, but he was her brother, her family.

"What is it then?" Her voice sounded a little more excited. "A sword? A bow? If not another Needle, what is it then?"

Jon couldn't pull direwolves from his pockets, not even gold for that matter. There was little she could imagine he could actually give her after spending so much time up North. Maybe he could give her Snow, but it would have melted in her hands, in his hands the moment he came any further South. A jar of water would've made sense then, but, she moved past the idea of Snow and towards the next day.

It was probably best she get out of this cursed place.

oathkeeper
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"Take the Black"

Posts: 63

The Hollow of Harrenhall [IC] Aug 20, 2014 21:02:36 GMT -6

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Post by oathkeeper on Aug 20, 2014 21:02:36 GMT -6

The protests were to be expected, and for the briefest of moments, Jon felt a smile curl up on his lips. Yes, he would surely feel the wrath of the Seven Hells for this, he knew; but for the moment, it was well worth it. "A'ye, I didn't, but I did." the bastard retorted cunningly, a very rare mischievous tone in the young man's voice. Arya was renowned for her pranks back in the warm days of Winterfell, and to an extent, the Snow had learned a few tricks and followed in the footsteps of the Underfoot.

With one arm wrapped snugged around the frail yet spunky stick of a girl, the Bastard of Winterfell tenderly and carefully navigated through the corridors of decrepit dungeon. Pale rays of sunlight beamed in the distance, the entrance to the labyrinth opened from when the deserter frantically bolted down in the search for his sister. Avoiding fallen stones and occasionally almost tripping on the overall uneven surface of the crumbling ruins, Jon warily continued and honestly hoped that the ceiling above him would not collapse due to the absolutely terrible condition of Harrenhall's infrastructure.

"Hah," Jon chuckled lightly and casually, glancing down at Arya who he ensured was snugged against his hard-boiled, blacken leather breastplate. Even with all of the suffering she had endured, Jon noted her excitement and couldn't help but feel a brewing sense of glee in his bosom. With every passing second, he saw more and more of the girl who he constantly mused her stoic hair and fenced with both playfully and seriously. "I'll show you in the morn', but I'll get ya a hint...it isn't a dress." Jon jokingly yet genuinely explained, once again reminding himself he would feel the wrath of his sister if kept up with this game.

Finally ascending upon the gray and mossy cobblestone that awaited the two Starks, the sun's rays were but almost all dimmed, torches blazing within Harrenhall and upon the countless stretch of war tents and other establishments forged around the ruins. The stone columns and structures around him, charred and blacken from the breath of the dragons centuries ago, appeared darker than the night itself. Stepping through the courtyard and out the front gate, Northerners scrambled busily and hastily gathered belongings to prepare for the long trek across the Riverlands.

Stepping down onto a dirt-paved road, Jon passed tent after tent as he occasionally glanced at passing soldiers. The Night's Watchman had seen his fair share of disturbing gazes, yes, but the amount of said looks seemed unusual for tonight. Murmurs of, "Winterfell" filled his ears, the shaking of heads and occasionally gaze into his own eyes meeting him. Discomforted and knowing it was best not to pester his troubled brother anymore, Jon scrambled into Arya's tent, which originally had just been Jon's.

"We got a long trip a'head, so try to get some sleep soon. Also, don't ever tell anyone your name, let me do the talking if anyone approaches us. Bad 'enough half the bannermen want me dead for deserting, they don't need to know you are here with us yet, Arya." Jon noted, crouching slightly down as he seated the traumatized child onto the bed. Holding a stern expression, Jon pulled a nearby chair and sat on it, dusting off his breastplate and pants. Feeling partially guilty for ordering Arya specific commands and pampering her, the bastard was at a loss for words on how to handle this situation. The girl needed help, he knew that, but Jon had not even the slightest of grasp of what suffering she endured.

How can I help her when I'm a coward in the eyes of the Seven Realms? Jon mentally screeched at himself, deep in his thoughts as he sat by Arya's bed and clenched his gloved hands together.

Lillian Gray
Lil'Meister the Admin

King in the North

Good god, let me give you my life.

Posts: 1,597

The Hollow of Harrenhall [IC] Aug 23, 2014 23:20:13 GMT -6

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Post by Lillian Gray on Aug 23, 2014 23:20:13 GMT -6

Arya thought she might have hated being on a horse again. She'd grown used to walking, liked the freedom it gave her, not having to give commands at a moments notice when she wanted to turn or stop. On the open road it was just her and her thoughts.

Gods she'd never been so happy to be proven wrong. She wasn't aware of the deal that'd been struck between brothers, and she rode far past the army of Northerners. Arya was reminded faintly of the Kingsroad, so long ago, when she'd tried to look for rubies. The afterthought only brought a sour taste to her throat. Just like last time, her friends were gone. Different reasons, different men, a different crime.

But it was all the same.

She never sank to the back if she couldn't help it, letting the wind tousle the small amount of hair on her head. This was how it was meant to be, she wished that she'd only had a horse for longer.

"Jon, come on, you're being slow!" Arya called back to her bastard brother, waving her hands like a fool. At least upon the mare she could find a little joy in the comforts of old, just the scenery as she raced by.

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daxam: At least I got $100 for my dad's sewer job :3 Jan 17, 2015 22:13:01 GMT -6

Lillian Gray: Ah, that's a bummer. Jan 17, 2015 14:30:55 GMT -6

daxam: Decided not to do it. It would just be for the console, no controllers, games or cables Jan 17, 2015 2:15:40 GMT -6

Lillian Gray: Nice! I'd be careful though, Ebay can be hard to deal with. Sometimes. Usually things work out. Jan 15, 2015 18:53:04 GMT -6

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Lillian Gray: Haha, I might not respond until late. LOTR is on, and well, it's pretty distracting. Then I've gotta read. Sorry kitsune! Jan 9, 2015 20:20:48 GMT -6

kitsunemage:

yaaaaay Clint bears <3 Jan 9, 2015 20:14:50 GMT -6

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