#v;1

The young woman's room was small but cozy. The walls were a sheer grey color, the floor a thin layer of fake parquet covering the concrete, but she could still feel its coldness when she walked barefoot. The left wall used to be covered by drawings, but the guards would tear them from the walls and that made her very sad.. And angry. They were nothing special, just a Skull colored in red. It was pretty, it changed from the usual drawings, right?

The girl went by the name Erica Holstein and she used to have serious issues before her incarceration. The doctors said that's what she needed and they knew better, they were health workers and Erica wanted to be healthy. They helped through her nightmares and filled the void in her mind she couldn't fill herself. She couldn't remember much of her past life but they had helped her so much it was starting to slowly get back to her.

She had a routine of her own in addition of the one set by the workers of the facility. 6 am she would wake up, get dressed with clothes bought for her (they were always a little large but it didn't really matter). She would make her bed and go to the self-service restaurant where she and all the other residents shared meals every day. Three mornings each weeks, she had blood analysis before breakfast. After that, she would go to 'class' where she learned how to speak English correctly and how to behave in the society. Each one of the residents had a job at the facility to prepare them for the outside world.

Nobody knew exactly how long they had been there but they were told they'd be out soon enough. There were armed guards everywhere but they were there for their safety. She was told she was a very special girl and every special girls had to be protected, that's why she always had someone armed following her everywhere she went. That used to make her feel uncomfortable but it had become a routine.

When she was done with her chores and reeducational activities, she'd pace around the garden at the very end of the yard in search of red flowers. The girl was obsessed with red but she didn't know why. Whenever she'd see someone wearing red she would grin happily like a little girl who found candies. She heard the doctors say that it triggered something in her but she couldn't put her finger on it...

Today was a good day, she came back to her room from a check up and the doctors were proud! She remembered her life perfectly and made big progresses in class. No angry outbursts or delusional moments whatsoever. The machine they used for her nightmares ( little sticky patches connected by wires to a computer, painful but effective) was starting to show results and she'd sleep so much better now. They told her she'd be out of there soon, but they still had to run some tests. Each test was a painful one but they were for her own good.

                      “𝖜𝖍𝖔'𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊?“

✧ - They had been sitting in the cafeteria, enjoying their lunch in silence. It wasn’t an uncomfortable one, just two friends too tired with exams and homework to really care too much about conversations.

Though.... speaking of homework...

      the hall was loud; the   e c h o     of men howling with laughter, of forks scratching plates and of joyous conversations filled the air surrounding jon, yet the young boy was not hungry. with every quick glance up his eyes met with either one of his siblings, his father or lady stark; the former two looked saddened and almost guilty with their gaze, but the latter had a look that jon would be foolish to mistake for anything but spite. although her disapproving looks and harsh quips hµr† him, the bastard knew she was right to feel such a way about him; he was the living embodiment of his own fathers mistakes; the flesh and blood that made him was full of regret, shame and of dishonesty — everybody knew it. the honourable ned stark knew it, the bitter lady stark knew it, but most of all, the bastard himself, jon snow knew it.      shock had taken over the boy’s body when his father extended an invitation unto him —— the shock did not come in the fact that he was shoved in the back with the other low-born’s lord stark respected, or rather, PITIED, enough to invite to the feast, but the fact an invitation was given at all. he was certain that lady stark would not have wanted it. he had heard her hushed whispers, telling her husband it would be disrespectful to the royal family to have a  𝓫𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓭  in their presence, but ned insisted his son was to be present, even if he was to sit on his own in the back of the hall, looking up at the only family he’d ever known  — it was a metaphor come true.      fork dragged across his plate, moving around the meat that took up most of the room upon the dish; bitter eyes fixated on the table, fed up of meeting the glaring eyes of his family. jon was in a BAD MOOD. he’d rather be brooding outside where he could at least shoot arrows and let out some of the anger that had swelled within him for 18 years, not ʰᵘᵐⁱˡⁱᵃᵗᵉᵈ in a hall where everybody else appeared to be having the time of their life.      the distraction of his thoughts had left him unaware of the world around him; the bastard hadn’t even noticed footsteps approach him until they paused and a figure stood towering over him. eyes did not leave the table; at this point, jon didn’t care who stood there. he just wanted to be left ȶɦɛ ɦɛʟʟ ALONE.

DID HE? no. of course he didn’t. there had been a brief moment when sam had told him the  T R U T H  of who he was that jon had considered himself upon the iron throne; even in his wildest imagination, the metal was uncomfortable beneath him; he was not built to rule the seven kingdoms. daenerys was. he truly believed that; he had not bent the knee for love as sansa had suggested —— he had bent the knee because he knew that daenerys was the  ONLY ONE  who he wished to see sat in that metal chair; she was the one who would do good, the only one that would break the wheel that had  DESTROYED  the seven kingdoms. jon had never had the single intent of taking the throne for himself ( he could imagine NOTHING worse ); all he wanted was for his people to  SURVIVE,  to  THRIVE,  to  LIVE.  rule was not an interest for him; only what was right. and the mother of dragons with a crown atop her silver hair? that was 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓.

the castle had been silent for days; from the moment the dead had fallen and the war had been won, the sun rising in the east and the winds of winter halting to a final stop. THEY WERE ALIVE, but each had lost so many. the air was thick with loss, quiet sobs stifling in every corner of winterfell. THE GREAT WAR HAD BEEN WON AND NOW IT WAS TIME TO WIN THE LAST WAR; the war against the lannisters, or more specifically, cersei. daenerys had proclaimed herself as the rightful heir to the iron throne before the war, and yet even days after the dead had been lay for their eternal rest, the two had hardly spoken. in fact, jon had hardly spoken to anyone at all. his time had been evenly spread across morning the men, the BROTHERS, that he had lost ——— and his own siblings. they had wondered through the halls of the castle that had been their childhood home, through the crypts of which their family had been lay to rest and had once more risen, trying to piece together what once was. the damaged seemed on the verge of irreparable, but no one had quite gathered the heart to admit it.

now, he sat by the fireplace, tankard of ale in hand, chestnut gaze fixated on the flames. THE FLAMES. the same orange glow that had lit the arakh of the dothraki before they had ridden into the night and gave up their lives for the living. the same orange glow that had engulfed huge chunks of winterfell, that had burned from the mouth of rhaegal and drogon and killed thousands of wights. the same orange glow that the red lady had once looked upon and claimed to see SOME BIGGER PURPOSE for jon snow. what bigger purpose was that? killing a few hundred wights? hardly being able to protect his men? or perhaps it had nothing to do with the great war. perhaps it had something to do with what sam had told him in the crypts just two nights before the dead had arrived.