When winter comes, her flame will light the way.
Growing up in the North was something people did not take for granted; her family ruled the Icelands and the people that came with it. They trained the girls alongside of the boys, knowing the dangers...
Chapter Fifteen: The Nurse Game of Thrones, Season 2
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THE TWINS FOREST THE RIVERLANDS
The morning mist clung to the ground like a shroud, veiling the battlefield in a ghostly pallor. The Northern forces had completed their assault, leaving only the dead and the dying in their wake. The air was thick with the scent of blood, the cries of the wounded, and the restless neighing of horses. It was a victory, but there was little joy in it.
Lord Roose Bolton, Nyssa Ember and Robb Stark walked through the aftermath, their boots crunching over the trampled earth, followed by a handful of Northern soldiers. Nyssa's eyes showed guilt at the dead Northern soldiers, though she'd only lost one of her's.
"Five Lannisters dead for every one of ours," Bolton reported, his voice as cold as the mist that hung in the air. "They're dead. Take everything they've got. We've nowhere to keep all these prisoners. Barely enough food to feed our own."
Nyssa halted, her jaw tightening at the sight of the defeated men who now knelt in the mud, their hands bound, faces drawn with fear.
"We're not executing prisoners, Lord Bolton," Nyssa stated firmly, her voice leaving no room for doubt.
Roose Bolton and Nyssa Ember did not like each other. It started when Nyssa noticed that every time she spoke, he'd glance to Robb as though he still needed to give his approval...as though Nyssa's words meant nothing. She had began to be stern when he was around and often glared down at him.
"Of course, Your Grace. The officers will be useful. Some of them may be privy to Tywin Lannister's plans."
Robb shook his head.
"I doubt it," he replied, his tone heavy with scepticism.
The Lannisters were many things, but carelessness was not one of them. Bolton's lips curled into a thin, humourless smile.
"Well, we'll learn soon enough. In my family, we say, 'A naked man has few secrets. A flayed man, none.'"Bolton explained.
Nyssa turned sharply to face him, a flicker of anger in her eyes.
"Ned Stark outlawed flaying in the North. For a good reason too."
"We're not in the North," Bolton countered, his voice as smooth as silk, yet edged with steel.
"We're not torturing them."
Bolton's smile vanished, replaced by a look of cold pragmatism.
"The high road's very pretty, but you'll have a hard time marching your army down it."
"The Lannisters hold prisoners of their own. I won't give them an excuse to abuse my sisters," Robb added, agreeing with Nyssa.
Their exchange was interrupted by a nearby commotion. A wounded soldier, his leg mangled and infected, struggled against those tending to him. His cries of pain cut through the fog like a knife.
