Northvow - Tumblr Posts

@northvow

❝ 𝕳𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖑𝖆𝖞 𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖘 𝖔𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚? ❞

The flames burn bright in the night, the cold in Castle black is haunting. She can see men trying to find any source of heat to guard themselves from it, the red witch massage gently the arm where Davos hold her, his fingers still linger in her pale flesh. Their discussion today was loud --- Well, it was more like he was shouting and she was merely listening, the onion knight doesn’t seem to understand that she has no ill intentions, nor toward him, nor Stannis, not any living creature. 

But her thoughts are promptly stopped by the young commander, her heads turn in his direction and she smile sweetly at him, ruby eyes gleaming in the dark night. “Lord Commander”  Hes question seems to point he heard or was witness of the bruises in her forearm, what made her play with her sleeves. “Don’t worry about me. I see you make no heed to my worries, keep your wolf close.” she could see it still, dagger in the night, snow covered red, the howl breaking the silence, like a cry for help.

northvow‌:

“ 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄.” Part of him, his white wolf is. Closer than a friend. The direwolf had travelled with Jon from Winterfell to the Wall, and then through the wild North.. At a certain point, he’d even seen through those red eyes…. Red eyes, as red as the ruby gleaming in the night. But the Red Woman’s reassurances deter him none. He looks past that sweet smile, dark eyes fixating again upon her arm, more insistent this time. “What happened?” 

The snow falls and she stares at the men whose footstep leave a print of their boots in the white pale soil, her fingers drum softly in the wood. “A man’s temper” she says, she had known of this in the past is not new to her and she believes the onion knight did not meant it, he was just upset and scare. Melisandre is aware of what her words, her action cause in other people. Some might even brand her as a mad woman. A zealot but she is none of that, power is power. What ever shape form or source it comes from one must not denied it.

“But worry not, I heal fast...” she gives him a phantom smirk “Have you considered Stannis proposition? He thinks very highly of you.” Stannis told her of Jon and his background, she often ask why do westerosi culture is so strange when it comes to bastards. In other places, they don’t even get to live beyond infantry here they get to live but in such an horrific way, she pity them Why keep something that’ll be treated worse than a street rat?

@northvow

  ❝ 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖍𝖆𝖘 𝖇𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖎𝖓𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖉?❞

The priestess has been making concoctions for the days to come, poultices that will help to heal those who have been wounded in battles and even help with those who are struggling with the cold. She let the bowl on top of one of the shelf's and and returned to one of her many books, her red eyes did not look up when she heard the commander speak. “Yes, he has” she said with a heavy sigh.

When she finally looks up there’s a smirk in her face. “Do not worry, commander. Mance and the king know what they are doing and my glamours have never failed” the ruby in her necklace shined at the word. “You’ll have your sister”

S N O W‌:

❝ I DON’T TRUST YOUR VISIONS, my lady. this is between life and DEATH, not idle whims and wishes.  ❞  he’s unceasingly suspicious of that which he cannot see. and why shouldn’t he be? as lord commander it’s his task to face the truth HEAD ON, prepare his men for the actual threat marching toward the wall. 

your sister. he pauses then, offering the red woman his peripheral. the hands at his side flex and unflex, chest rising and falling HEAVY beneath boiled leather. the last he’d seen her she’d been but a small girl with messy brown hair and skinny limbs. who was she now?  ❝ you know that she is ALIVE, then? where is she?  ❞

She claps her hands together and removes the dirt that the powders left, when she is done her red eyes like blood fix on him. “A girl is coming on a dying horse” her voice rich with certainty “R’hllor didn’t show me more.” 

She wishes she could tell him more, but snow covers mostly of her visions. Snow and smoke. “Don’t be hasty in judgement, lord commander” a smile grew on her lips. “My visions you may not trust, but trust my power over glamours. They are not easily to be perceive” she touches the ruby on her collar. “Or you forget Mance?” she stare at him playfully. “Not even the King knows of it” 

Melisandre has only confessed to Jon who is the wildling giant that comes and goes from her bedchambers. Jon and the wildlin’ princess, The priestess has never spoken of why she decided to fool the king, that truth remains unspoken. 

@northvow​

❝ 𝖇𝖊 𝖖𝖚𝖎𝖊𝖙! 𝖎 𝖍𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖉 𝖊𝖓𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍. ❞

She doesn’t often flinch when men scream, it is their way to cope but sometimes there’s something in their eyes that make her step back, even if it’s just a little, a small gesture from her that she does subconciously. Something thta makes her close her eyes and grip the fabric of her robes, or simply something that makes her look away. This is one of those moments, when Jon’s scream and demeanor makes her look away, even her body trembles and she turns to not hear nor say anything, even if Davos is fuming in the same room demanding her head to be severe from her shoulders. She had no other words to say, no more to give, no more guilt to feel. No, she did had a lot of guilt in her heart and yet the few phrases she was able to muster were promptly silent by Jon.  Mel summons all her courage that she has left and speaks again, even if she can’t face the snow that falls on her like a storm. “What I did, was for the good of all of us.”

🪐 — lil starter for  @northvow​ 

         IT HAD NOT BEEN HER CHOICE to reverse death itself  &  pull jon snow back from the darkness that had taken him. melisandre did nothing of her own accord. she was but a servant to her god,  &  r’hllor’s will was absolute. & unlike oft before, this time, his wishes had been undeniable. in life or death, the bastard boy was little more than his tool ( as were they all ), but it seemed that the lord of light had determined that jon snow served his purpose better alive.  or rather, reborn.  she held a torch high aloft as she made for his chamber, its flames lashing out to chase the shadows back into the corners where they belonged. it was the only weapon she carried; the only one she needed.                                                                  when she reached the door, she rapped her knuckles on the wood to warn him of her presence before she entered. but when she saw the boy, her breath caught in her throat, her ruby necklace growing warm against her pulse. only days ago he had been a corpse, pale  &  stiff  &  cold to the touch. but now his eyes were alert  &  bright  &  trained carefully on her as she entered the room. such was the power of r’hllor. this was his work,  & it never failed to bring her a sense of awe.

                   ❝  you’re looking well, jon snow. ❞  she greeted him with a warm smile, red lips curling upward at the corners as her curious scarlet eyes regard him closely.  ❝  how are your wounds healing ? ❞

🪐 — jon snow​ :

he  traces  the  ugly  rugged  scar  across  his  now - beating  heart,  while  grey  eyes  gaze  deep  into  the  fire.  the  memory  of  sharp  steel  plunges  into  his  skin;  warm  blood  smoking  in  icy  air.    why  me  ?  he  asks,  for  the  thousandth  time.    his  brother  died  at  a  wedding  feast  —  and  now  his  bones  lay  with  his  wolf’s  corpse  at  the  bottom  of  the  river  (  if  the  tales  were  true  ).      i  could  have  gone  to  join  him,  and  ygritte,  and  our  father.  and  yet  .  .  .               coming  back  to  this  world  is  his  destiny  —  and  his  curse.    the  gods  were  seldom  good. gentle  rap  at  the  door  causes  him  to  startle,  feet  hitting  the  floor  before  he  stands  upright.  in  the  corner,  ghost’s  red  eyes  gaze  out;  watchful,  but  seemingly  unthreatened.     the  red  woman  is  strikingly  lovely  and  ethereal,  but  jon  still  does  not  know  what  to  make  of  her,  or  her  abilities.    he  holds  to  the  old  gods  of  his  father,  yet  her  lord  of  light  seems  to  have  the  power  of  life  and  death.  for  what  cause  did  she  bring  him  back  in  the  first  place  ?  he  inhales,  swallows.     ❝  well  enough,  ❞    voice  scrapes  through  an  unpracticed  throat.    the  former  commander  gestures  broadly  to  the  tankard  of  spiced  wine  on  the  table.        ❝  i  can’t  decide  .  .  .  whether  i  wish  it  were  otherwise.  ❞

       SCARLET EYES OBSERVE HIM CLOSELY,  for even the most devout of r’hllor’s servants could still find themselves surprised at his power. nothing was impossible for her god, for life  &  death alike were his alone to bestow. this she knew, &  yet, melisandre still found herself in awe of the closed wound on jon’s chest, the warm tint of blood in his cheeks that was an undeniable sign of life.                     ❝  unfortunately, what we wish for means very little, jon snow. ❞  she responds, the ruby at her throat pulsing, scorching her skin when she speaks his name. &  though she smiles politely at his gesture, melisandre ignores the wine he offers. she has little desire for food or drink as of late. ❝ our lives are not our own — we are but tools for the lord of light to use as he deems necessary.  &  it seems that he still has need of you. ❞          a movement in the corner of the room draws her attention,  &  melisandre notices for the first time his wolf’s presence, its crimson eyes tracking her every move. the priestess can tell that it is protective of its master, but the blistering heat of its red gaze upon her is more comforting than threatening. after all, she means jon no harm. if r’hllor had decreed that he should live, she would sooner cast herself into the shadows forever than disobey his will. &  this creature too was part of her god’s design, much like jon himself  — she could see that much in its blazing eyes.                           ❝ still, i do regret that you had no choice in the matter, ❞ melisandre continued as if she had not paused, turning away from the wolf  &  back to jon himself. he was still young, after all,  &  still scarcely more than mortal. she herself could hardly remember what it had felt like to be so young  &  so human; that life given to the flames long ago. ❝ none of us do. ❞

🪐 — jon snow​ ;

once  upon  a  time,  he  believed  fate  was  his  to  seize  and  to  steer.  just  like  daeron  the  young  dragon,  who  conquered  dorne  at  fourteen,  so  too  would  jon  conquer  his  fears  and  lead  men.  but  now,  he  starts  to  wonder  if  the  red  woman  isn’t  right.  had  it  always  been  his  fate  to  wind  up  at  the  wall,  just  as  it  had  it  been  robb’s  fate  to  die  ?  could  a  man  truly  steer  his  own  course,  or  was  he  simply  a  pawn  in  the  gods’  games  ?    he  inhales  deeply,  eyes  falling  closed.  such  questions  are  beyond  him;  despite  his  glimpse  beyond  this  world.   ❝  my  lady,    ❞    he  begins  carefully,  index  finger  tapping  on  the  wood  of  the  table.      ❝  if  .  .  .  it  was  the  will  of  your  lord  that  i  return,  surely  you  can  tell  me  what  need  he  has  of  me.    ❞    grey  eyes  bore  into  her.    from  this  distance  he  can  smell  her  heat,  as  red-hot  as  the  iron  from  mikken’s  forge.    part  of  him  suspects  that  r’hllor’s  will  shall  line  up  with  melisandre’s  in  a  .  .  .  suspiciously  convenient  way    (  as  often  kings  and  lords  and  priests  appeal  to  the  power  of  their  gods,  when  it  is,  in  fact,  their  own  own  human  power  they  wish  to  wield  ).     ❝  i  should  hope  it  involves  war,  because  i  still  mean  to  ride.  ❞

         SHE KNOWS WHAT HE WILL ASK  before he speaks, though this particular prediction required no blessed vision from the flames. they all wanted to know the path ahead. melisandre herself was no exception; it was that longing to see the way forward that kept her awake night after night staring into her hearth for a glimpse of her god’s will.                                                             but it is the determination in his voice that does surprise her, red lips curling into a smile as he speaks his intentions. it pleases her to hear. jon snow is r’hllor’s chosen; that much cannot be in question any longer.  &  her god required a warrior’s heart of his champion.

                       ❝ i cannot tell you how this will end for you. r’hllor only shows me what i need to see in order to to serve him. ❞  melisandre weighs each word cautiously, sensing he will be disappointed with her answer, yet unable to give a better one.  ❝ but please understand, his light is a gift as much as it is a duty. ❞  her body turns away from the table, eyes drawn to a torch alight on the wall. it seems to pulse under her gaze, a fourth heart alive  &  beating in perfect synchronization with the three of flesh  &  blood that were present in the room.

                                    melisandre had been so certain that the wall was the place the darkness would descend, but then, she’d been certain of stannis, too. she may not see the path, but she would never doubt her god’s will again. &  with her resolve steeled, the priestess straightens her spine  &  turns back toward jon in a graceful sweep of crimson silks. ❝ you cannot escape it, but nor will you be held prisoner by it. if it is your will to ride south, then go  —  as soon as your wounds allow  —  &  the light will follow you. ❞

hiiii just casually dropping in to say that ily 😘

i'm putting ' colleen loves me ' under special skills on my resume.