“You’re wrong,” Kirith hissed at his accusations. It was all wrong. She’d never cared to grow stronger for the sake of power itself. “Is that what you think I came here for? I came here,” she began, but her words failed her, rendering her unable to speak the simple truth: she’d come all this way for him.
Do you want to lose him? the raven had asked her. That had been all she’d ever cared about, attaining enough power to stay by his side, to fly after him even if he crossed oceans.
“I’m leaving in two days. I won’t ask you to follow me.”
All the anger boiling inside her suddenly came to a cold stop. Leaving? In two days? What felt much like panic lurched up within her as the words sank in. “My training--my training isn’t over yet,” she stammered out, too stunned to sound spiteful. He didn’t meet her eyes.
I’m not going to leave without you again. I promise, he’d said. “Griff,” she uttered numbly, grasping his arm.
Griff, she called him still, the name she’d spoken more than any other throughout her life.
Griff! A mischievous whisper from outside his tent.
Griff! A joyous laugh falling from her lips as he crashed into her on the shore.
Griff! A fearful, frantic cry piercing the night like an arrow. He’d always turned to her voice calling his name, no matter what, but this time--this time he did not. This time he wrenched his arm from her grasp, twisting away without so much as a fleeting glance at her horrified face. Like a heartless stranger he walked away from her, leaving her behind and disappearing into the woods.
I’m never going anywhere without you, as long as I live.“Hodor,” the large man said softly, jolting her out of her stupor. He shifted towards the entrance of the cave, gesturing. “Hodor?”
She shook her head. “No, it’s fine,” she answered, swallowing with difficulty. “I can find my own way.” Yet she was rooted to the spot, unable to find the strength to move even one inch.
“Hodor,” he repeated, concern in his voice. Laying a gentle arm around her shoulders he led her back through the caverns like one would a child, and she walked along mechanically, her thoughts a blank white page.
He’s leaving you, the mocking voice started again.
He’s leaving you behind, silly, foolish girl. As the two returned to the wide cave the young Stark immediately looked up, relief crossing his face. “You’re back,” Bran started to say, but she was not looking at him or Meera. Instead, she stumbled straight over to the twisted figure on his weirwood throne like a sleepwalking girl, her grey eyes fixed on the ancient being.
“My training--” she began, her face pale and drawn.
“I know what it is you are asking,” the ancient creature answered, his one eye staring down at her knowingly. “And it is impossible.”
“But he’s leaving in two days,” she choked out, “I can’t stay.”
“You are not ready yet. You cannot fly yet, you cannot see yet--you are but a blind fledgling. If you leave now, it’ll all be for naught. You might give chase, but you will plummet and drown.”
Kirith shook her head, sending her flame hued locks swinging. “There has to be a way,” she pleaded imploringly, but there was no sympathy in his expression.
“There is no such way.”
She backed away from the wizened being, dizzy with despair. No, how could this be? How could it end like this? She’d come here...she’d come here because… Someone called out to her--Bran? Meera? She couldn’t tell anymore. Why?
Why? Unable to do anything else, she turned and did the only thing she could--she ran. Bereft of the one she had always run to, she ran blindly through the caverns uncaring of the footing, uncaring of the direction, uncaring of the destination. Twice she stumbled and fell, but each time she rose and threw herself forward. She ran and ran until she was hopelessly lost; she ran until she couldn't, until she had reached a dead end and her legs gave way underneath her.
Crumpled before the tangled roots of the heart tree that blocked her way she burst into tears. She cried like a child, cried like she never had even as a child, shamelessly letting her sobs and wails ring out into the darkness. A tear for each false word she had been fed, a tear for each false hope she'd been given, a tear for every secret gone unspoken, an ocean to fill the bottomless hole that had opened up in her chest. Nothing had changed--she was just as helpless as she had been on Skagos, just as helpless as the child on the shore. No matter how far as she stretched out to match his stride, she would always come up short, she would always be left behind. Her last shining hope snatched away she cried until she had no strength to do so, until she had no more tears to shed--and then at last, exhausted and numb, the girl fell against the white roots and surrendered to sleep.
As her eyes fluttered open, Kirith was not surprised to find herself on the snowy plains with the Three Eyed Raven beside her. "You lied to me," she said dully. Her voice was void of spite or hurt, filled with only a defeated acceptance. Her grandmother, her aunt, her dearest friend--why should there be a fuss over the addition of a mentor to that list? There was only so much she could muster an emotional response to, and now she was too drained to muster any.
"I've only spoken the truth to you," he insisted stonily.
“Have you? I came here so I wouldn’t lose him,” she reminded the raven, a trace of bitterness in her voice as she admitted to him what she could not say to Griff. “You promised me you’d teach me to fly, but I’ve lost him anyway.”
“And fly you shall,” the decrepit figure responded, not a care for the despair brimming in her gaze. “Human child, did you think it would be painless for you to sprout wings? For you to gain a thousand and one eyes? Did you not think there would be a price to pay for such power?”
“You could’ve taken anything else--you could’ve taken everything else,” the flame-haired girl spoke listlessly, her eyes falling to the snowy ground. “He was the one thing I couldn’t lose. He was the one thing I wouldn’t sacrifice.”
“A sacrifice beneficial for both of you,” he noted matter-of-factly. “You would only be a hindrance to him as of now, unable to do anything to help. But in due time you will see. You will fly.”
She looked up at him, but now her eyes had hardened to steel, her fingers balling into fists. “No, I won’t,” she shot back, a newfound edge in her voice. She was tired of riddles. She was tired of seeing. “No more. I’ve had enough.” What was the point of wings and eyes if they didn’t take her where she needed them to? As the ancient being opened his mouth to speak another cryptic line, her own voice rose to a shout, ripping through the winter air like a howling storm.
“No! Get out of my head!” The twisted man froze at her words, frosting over and shattering into a shower of snow before her very eyes. Chest heaving, she stood in the abrupt silence; his presence was gone--no voice, no trace of his ancient energy. No more. She was tired--tired of everything--lies, riddles, dreaming, heartbreak. Sinking to her knees, she folded into herself on the barren landscape and buried herself in the snow. The powdery white had never felt more like home, the chill wrapping around her and soothing her burning heart. Slowly, it numbed her to the pain, and the young woman closed her eyes as the world dissolved away into darkness, into oblivion, into a sleep free from mysterious dreams.
*******************
“Kirith,” she heard her name being called, felt a hand shaking her to wakefulness. “Kirith, wake up.” Recognizing the voice, she refused to open her eyes and rolled away from the source. She wanted to be left alone--how hard was that to understand? The voice persisted and she begrudgingly cracked her eyes open, her expression settling sullenly as she regarded the child of the forest before her. “Kirith,” Leaf repeated, holding out a bowl of what smelled like rabbit. “You have to eat.”
“Go away,” the wildling girl retorted hollowly. “I’m not hungry.” While she was being childish, she wasn’t lying--it was difficult to tell anymore. At first she’d woken with pangs in her stomach and her throat burning with thirst, but now she felt nothing. Kirith wanted nothing more to go back to the darkness she’d been pulled from; for the first time in what felt like ages, her dreams were blissfully free of anything to do with truths or long-forgotten pasts or the blasted future. After forcing her mentor out of her dreams, she continued to resist any such mental connection with a venomous ferociousness.
“It’s been more than a day,” the creature informed her, her sweet, high voice heavy with implication. Kirith knew what Leaf was alluding to, and she hated her for it. There was no time left. He would leave in another day, washing his hands clean of her folly and returning to his secrets. If it had been unlikely that he’d return to Skagos, she knew he would never return to this place of snow and ice. What was it that her aunt had said?
Kneelers, they don’t fare well in winter’s embrace for long. She’d never thought she end up having to admit that her aunt was right, even in the secrecy of her own mind. While Kirith had no intention of letting the woman getting the satisfaction of seeing her return to Skagos crushed and alone, she could not even begin to think of what she would do from now on. Perhaps she’d wander the land of her birth until she met a group of Free Folk, or until she was done in by an undead monstrosity. Or maybe she would just wither away here, a foolish and useless death for a foolish and useless girl. Her thoughts were beginning to fray.
Will you let him go then? the voice returned, ringing tones of iron.
He’s leaving me regardless, she replied despondently. She couldn't distinguish whether this was truly the raven or just a product of her wandering mind.
What of your destinies? it pressed.
It’s clear he doesn’t need me. She felt a streak of hurt run through her, but even that was very far away now.
He’s spent most of his life away from me anyhow, I don’t see why he can’t fulfill a destiny without me. And should he meet his doom because of you? Will you remain ignorant then too?I don’t care anymore, she threw back petulantly, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to block out the voice within. She didn’t care about anything anymore. The raven’s promises had set her soaring high above the clouds, but now she could see that the higher one climbed, the harder they fell--now she was utterly broken. She was so tired now, so weary. She didn’t want to care about him or herself, or this nonsense about fates and destinies.
Leave me alone. Then Kirith could feel the pull, the tug at her consciousness and she resisted, struggling for control. “Stay out!” she hissed, but her physical strength had depleted long ago and now her mental strength was beginning to fail, weakened by hunger and anguish. Even as she tried to stumble up and away from the roots of the heart tree the ground and cave were melting away, sending a rushing river sweeping against her body instead.
Wild-eyed she turned about, drinking in the sight that had replaced the dark, damp caverns. Recognizing it she shook her head, though this time it was terror twisting in her eyes, not childish stubbornness. “No, no, no,” she repeated, her words dripping with dread. “No, stop it,” she pleaded, raising her voice to the sky. “Please!” Her begging was abruptly drowned out by the sound of battle; men crashed into enemy lines, shouting their battle cries, falling by the sword and axe. Even though she was standing in the middle of the chaotic scene her attention was fated to be drawn to a lone figure locked in combat with another--a silver-haired warrior, decked in black and red. She knew before she even looked that this time, it was not Rhaegar Targaryen. “Stop it,” she cried, wanting to cover her eyes, to look away, to wake up. “I don’t want to see this!”
Why not? The silence seemed to mock.
You don’t care. Unable to argue she watched, her breath sticking painfully in her throat as the form of the man he fought twisted up into a nightmare--she knew how this would end, she knew how this would play out. Instead of taking the form of a pitch-black stag however, the vortex took on a glacial blue hue, exploding outwards to blanket them all. The enemy soldiers around her staggered awake in a different form, decayed and cold; the opponent that charged at the pale-haired boy was now no longer human, but a terrifying and ethereal creature white as snow with eyes of an unnatural glowing blue.
The sight of it struck a chord of terror within her, the kind of base fear that fueled an animal’s survival, adrenaline racing through her veins like lightning.
Run, every fiber of her being commanded.
Run! And yet, despite it all, despite the visceral fear clawing at her gut, she could not. “Griff,” she whispered, her feet propelling her forward before she was fully aware of what she was doing. Unfortunately for her, as she began to rush through the water she found that the cold emanating from the monster had spread at a fearsome speed, freezing the river and trapping her in place. Feverishly she clawed and beat at the ice, bloodying her knuckles, but the unforgiving ice would not yield.
Once again, she was rendered helpless to do nothing but watch from afar as the pale otherworldly monster attacked her childhood friend, a wickedly sharp crystal sword in hand. Helplessness. It was a wretchedly familiar feeling, one she hated so vehemently. As a child, she had gone out of her way to prove that she was not helpless, that she wrought her own choices and consequences, bad and good. The only helplessness she’d felt was whenever he’d be taken away from her. No amount of thinking or pleading, plotting or struggling she’d done had been able to change a single thing; there’d been nothing to do but stand there and watch the ship pull away. Every single time, she’d been powerless. At the time she’d believed that only if she became older, stronger, more capable, she would no longer be helpless. When that too failed, from the depths of her dreams she’d been offered what had appeared like the true solution by a mystical raven. But where had that gotten her?
“What do you
want from me?!” the redhead lashed out, a dark fury flashing in her stormy eyes. The raven was nowhere to be seen, but she bared her teeth all the same as she continued to thrash in her icy prison. “What are you trying to say? I want to be with him, you know that--you
always knew that! But you won’t let me go and he’s not going to wait, so what do you want me to do?!” Almost as in response to her rage the ice around her split, finally releasing her. Frantically scrambling up from the pit she rushed forward, skidding through the raging battle and the animated dead grabbing for her to make her way to the dueling pair. He hadn’t been the only one to make a promise to her that night. No, she’d sworn an oath to herself as well, hadn’t she? She’d sworn she’d never resign herself to letting anything tear them apart--and as all bad habits went, she’d caved. No more.
Blind. Flightless. Helpless. Why do you fight? Why do you struggle? the voice returned to taunt as the swarm of wights clawed at her.
"I don't care!" Kirith spat back desperately as she tore herself from their cold grasp, scattering bones and flesh. She could only catch fleeting glimpses of his form from between the chaos, but she never looked away. "Flightless, helpless, I can't--I won't lose him." Never, never, never.
A noble thought, but how will you follow him without eyes to see where he is? “I’ve found my way to him for my whole life,” she gritted out, wresting her arm from the clutches of another frozen hand. “My feet know the way. My heart knows the way.”
How will you follow him without wings to carry you over the sea? he insisted.
“If I can’t fly, I’ll swim. If I can’t swim, I’ll sail,” the girl retorted, her ragged words punctuated by her movements as she fought her way forward. She was close, so close she could hear the sound of blades clashing together. “If I can’t sail--even if I have to drain the oceans dry, I’ll crawl my way to him.” And all at once she realized she had made it through the throng of the dead and dying to the heart of the battle--he was but a short dash away. She raced towards him, shouting his name, but he seemed deaf to her voice. Though she was battered and bruised, she was not too far gone as she rushed over to notice that every time the crystal sword clashed against his blade ice was creeping over the steel.
“Watch out!” she cried out, but as the warning left her his sword shattered like glass under a mighty swing, rendering him weaponless.
How will you save him from doom without a weapon? Without the power I’ll grant you? The raven was right--she had no spear, no knife, no shield. Helpless. As the creature drew back with its frozen blade however, Kirith realized she didn’t need a weapon or anything else of the sort to save him. No, she already had everything she needed. Throwing aside all her doubts, she thrust herself directly into the path of the whistling blade. The sword plunged straight through her back, the deadly point coming to a quivering stop a mere inch from grazing the young man who stood before her. As she let out a sound that was half gasp, half laugh, as his violet eyes finally filled with a terrible recognition, time itself seemed to come to a sudden stop. In a whirl of inky feathers her wizened mentor appeared before her, his red eye glowing bright, and struggling for breath she met his gaze with a feral grin, her eyes smoldering with a gloating defiance.
“Is this your choice?” he demanded sternly. “You would forsake it all and remain powerless?”
“It is,” she spoke unflinchingly, her tones ringing with finality. “And I will make the same choice again and again.”
“All for a boy who lied to you all this time?”
“I...I don’t know the truth,” the wildling girl admitted haltingly, her features turning grim. “I don’t know how much of it was made up, or how much of it was real. But--but if there’s one thing that I
do know with certainty, it’s how I feel.” Kirith glanced away from the Three-Eyed-Raven to the frozen visage of the boy she’d known as Griff. At the bottom of all that hurt and anger, she was still too much of a fool to cut him out of her heart. How could she, when he was the very thing that comprised so much of it? “I don’t care if you say I am helpless or stupid, I know I’m both of those things,” she remarked, letting out a weak, breathless laugh. “But if you ask me to choose between him and anything else in the world, it’ll always be him.” She turned to the ancient being once more, lifting her chin in stubborn rebellion. “So keep your wings, and keep your eyes, too--I don’t want them.”
The raven stared at her wordlessly, his eye glowing with a frightening light, but Kirith refused to back down, glaring back with the bite of winter in her pale eyes. Then the world began to dissolve like snow in the sun; the sword in her heart, the surrounding battle, Griff and the frozen monster all faded away to a blinding white.
“Now you are ready,” the Three-Eyed-Raven’s voice rippled out through the emptiness, ringing still in her ears as her eyes opened again.
“Come to me, Seer--it is time for you to take flight.”