#flameofthenorth

"Alright. The persons in the following list should be prepared for ...mails! I don't think it'll get in time of Christmas, but I'm making my race for New Year! I want to mail something to Eli too (I should have done that way, way back) but I'd still need Eli's address."

Jynx (Also, Emmy)

Pheebs

Em

"Oh hey!" Merida's face lit up and she grinned gleefully. "Yer like meh! Like they said! Kissed bah fire!"

The girl was still bundled in clothing from outside the North, and layers of it. She'd stumbled upon the camp recently, and well, she rathered like the free people and their policies.

"Easy...." The Lady Knight swallowed as she came face to face with the Wildling Woman. "...I'm not here to battle. Not with you or yours people."

Happy Ending - Mika

Long cloaks, heavy furs and a monochromatic world only colored by the black outfit contrasting strongly with the thick snow or tall icy wall; Joffrey never thought he'd get somewhat used to all of it. It's amazing what the human mind can do when it knows there's nothing else to do anyway. In the end, King or lowborn, we all have the will to survive, Joffrey thought, looking on to his raper, thieves and other criminal brothers.

Surviving was a bit of a stretch, this barely considered as living to him. But it's always more than what would have happened had he stayed in King's Landing and not yielded to his uncle. A clean death in best case, and a worst case he could not image. But as the days dragged on, between training which was taken by most as a free opportunity to take out their frustration on him, who had only held a sword by it's handle when it was sheathed at his hip, or serving senior brothers that should just be left to die by their old age, Joffrey was starting to wonder if he didn't pick the worse of the two evils.

It came as a surprise than when his name resonated in the Castle's training area, earning him a few glances by brothers still in disbelief that the previous King was in their midsts, But what truly surprised him was the rank : Ranger. Sure with the training, he had learned to wield a sword without getting disarmed at the simplest block, but he was nowhere near the average of the recruits. Joffrey was expecting they'd make him a steward and revel in the joy of having someone who sat on the Iron Throne serve them their dinner. But no, he was a ranger now. They must want to get rid of me quickly, he thought somberly, fear gnawing in his stomach. 

And that's how Joffrey found himself, well beyond the wall, walking along with his brother on the cold path, eyes wide open for any sign of activity, wildings or worse. Far worse, or so the rumor went. He never even saw it coming, when the grey dressed figures came rushing out of their hiding places, the clang of metal and the scream of men ringing in his head before his mind could even register what was happening. 

He was trained though, to know how to react in those situations but his limbs were frozen, not from the cold but from the sheer terror and panic coursing in his veins right now. He could feel his sword in his hand, he just had to swing it, and yet he couldn't even move his hand, and the weapon felt incredibly heavy in his arms. He had never been in the heat of the battle, and this was much to close for comfort. And thus he just looked on, powerless as the blood was spilt and he counted down the seconds until someone went for him.

Turns out it wont be the monochromatic world that will be impossible to get used to. It's the streak of red covering it. Blood spilt here seemed suddenly much more precious than the one sliding off the King's Justice great sword. Maybe because the risk that it would be his coating the weapon was much higher.

A large body pushed him though as a fight got too close and Joffrey felt himself falling backwards, his body hitting the snow and his sword falling out of his hand. With a large oomph, he landed in the cold, looking up at the sky, willing his body to move, to do something. He had nothing left of his reputation, of it had any good aspect to start with, but he didn't want to be known as the King who just laid there and died. He needed to get up. Mustering all his strength and clearing his mind he pushed himself off of the floor with his elbows before searching somewhat blindly the snow for his sword.