for the watch

olly is being moved into a multi-muse blog for some of my kids muses (for the sake of simplicity, easier access, and my sanity of not having to blog hop everyday)

Arya reached for the blade she kept at her hip and gestured the smaller sidearm in her back pocket. “Melee and ranged. Spare bullets in the backpack.” She only fired the gun a handful of times but she knew if need be she’d damn well shoot the thing. “It’s going to be alright. I promise. Now we got to move.” 

“Alright...now or never I guess...” Olly took a deep breath before moving out, trying to be as quiet as he could as they moved and avoiding anything that could be a possible threat or draw attention to themselves. They were so very close to their destination, just a few more feet.

“ ‘e’s useless!” One of the gang called out, anxious to sink his sword into one of the captives’ backs. Karl didn’t appreciate the interjection (and had his say about it), but realized he wasn’t wrong. The boy was scared useless, and would need some help to come to grips with his situation. Happy to adapt, the cutthroat pulled him closer, almost in an embrace with his blade resting against Olly’s ribs, just lightly enough to feel without piercing his clothes. 

“So he can’t decide,” he explained, feigning some disappointment as he rested his chin upon the child’s head. “Guess you’re just goin’ t’have to look on while you wait your turn.”

Once he gave his men the word, Karl’s hold tightened around Olly. The first to die would be the injured one, who wasn’t likely to survive much torturing in his state. With a mutineer hoisting each arm, they held him up like old livestock to be slaughtered. Before any final moves were made, Karl lowered his head to speak steadily into the boy’s ear. His breath was hot, and soaked in wine.

“You’ll have US decide how it goes, then? How these men meet their end? How much they’ll feel…when we make them into pig feed?”

Olly couldn’t help the whimper that left him when he felt the blade against his ribs. His heart beating so fast that the boy was sure that it would soon leap out of his chest by its own accord and leave him dead anyways.

Shaking and shivering, he wanted to close his eyes to all of this but he couldn’t do it, he had a feeling if he did, the man in charge, the monster, would do something even worse.

“Please...please...don’t hurt them....please...” Olly pleaded, scared and terrified and don’t know what else to do except beg. Karl cut a terrifying and unpredictable figure that Olly had no experience in dealing with at all.

          watching the overwhelming doubt and extreme confusion glowing in the boy’s eyes only had Jon feeling guiltier, himself. there was a war of his own within him, for he still firmly believed he’d not been in the wrong to give the free folk a chance to come past the gate — a chance to live, rather than to be turned into slabs of meat for the army of the Dead. nevertheless, he deeply regretted not having paid proper attention to Olly; not having taken the time to sit down with him and have a conversation from man to man, as corny as it sounded when put in such terms. to speak to him and open his heart to him, and at least try to make sure he understood why Jon was doing what he was doing… that it wasn’t for wanting to betray the Night’s Watch, that it wasn’t for shitting on the boy’s feelings and the memory of his family and loved ones. if only… 

          the punches, as harmless as they were deadly, as heartfelt as they were innocent, were not exactly enough to hurt in a normal situation — however, with the several stab wounds still so fresh and scattered all over his chest, it was no surprise that, even without trying, the younger one almost succeeded in making him keel over. trying to keep his gasps of pain to himself, however, and letting it out as winces only, for the moment belonged to Olly and to him alone, he wrapped the black-clad arms around his smaller frame and cradled him as well as he could, whispering in a soft tone.

‘ i’m sorry… i’m so sorry… ‘

“I want to go home...I want to go home...I miss them...I want to go home...” He barely even manages to get the words out between his cries of pain and grief. It’s a stupid and silly notion, Olly knows this logically, they’re dead, they’re all dead, and the land no longer belonging to his people. But he wants it back, he yearns for it, for the home that had been taken away from him, for the home that he knew would never be returned to him no matter how many more wildlings died in retribution.

Tear-filled eyes looked up at Jon Snow, “I just miss them...I’m sorry...I’m sorry...” He needs Jon to understand. He just missed his family so much, they consumed his mind everyday, and he wanted someone to pay. He knew now in this moment that he didn’t want Jon dead, he shouldn’t have done what he did. He was a killer and a monster and he was sorry.