Winter's (GOT) Nothing on Me #82

Hurrying to Threya's side, Gale knelt beside her, his voice laden with concern. "Are you... are you alright...?" he asked, a note of hesitation in his voice. 

Threya managed a bitter smile despite her obvious pain. "I've got a foot-long gash in my stomach..." she uttered, her words interrupted by coughs that expelled blood. "Of course... of course I'm not alright..." she added, her voice strained with discomfort.

Gale winced, his expression pained at Threya's condition. "Hold on... I'll take you back, have one of the healers take a look at you..." he offered, reaching out to assist her, but she intercepted his gesture, gripping his wrist firmly and shaking her head weakly.

 "Be realistic, you fool. I won't make it halfway through the way... the Weeper's blade cut deep. The only thing keeping my insides from turning to outsides is my hand at this point..." Her attempt at humor caused a wince and more blood to seep from her lips. 

"Not to mention they're--" She paused, interrupted by a sharp pang of agony.

Gale's resolve solidified. "I can freeze the wound... buy enough time for us to get to the healers..." he proposed, ice materializing around his outstretched arm.

As Threya spoke with firm resolve, Gale listened attentively, his eyes betraying a glimmer of hope. "Even if you freeze the wound... the wildling healers aren't miracle workers," she insisted, her tone resolute. 

"Unless you know someone capable of miraculous healing... you'll only be prolonging my suffering," she continued, her voice strained with pain.

Gale persisted despite her doubts.

 "The Three-Eyed Raven and the Children of the Forest... they helped save Qhorin's life," he argued optimistically. "Surely, if I take you to--" He paused abruptly, silenced by Threya's interruption.

"Will we reach them within a day?" Threya's calm inquiry hung in the air, and Gale hesitated, his expression sinking with realization as he shook his head. "Then there's no use..." She added with a sigh as she removed her hand from the wound, a gesture that spoke volumes. 

Gale's gaze flickered downward, the sight of her grievous injury and the state of her internal organs sending a wave of despair crashing over him. He tried to speak, to offer comfort, but found himself at a loss for words, not knowing what to do or say.

The weight of helplessness bore down on him, unlike anything he had experienced before in this world.

Threya noticed his despair and managed a chuckle despite her weakening state. "What's with... that look?" Her voice, now feeble, carried a hint of amusement. "I'm half dead already... do you expect me to console you?" Her bloodied lips curved into a wry smile.

Gale felt a pang of guilt, realizing how his distress might appear selfish in comparison to her dire condition. He mustered a weak smile, trying to reassure her, though the helplessness still lingered in his eyes.

"It's not that... I just..." Gale stumbled over his words, grappling for something, anything, to offer comfort or solace, yet he still found himself at a loss for words. 

Threya's smile softened, a glint of understanding in her eyes despite the pain. "Save your words... I lived as a warrior, and I'll die... a warrior," she assured him gently, her voice weakening with every passing moment. "I won't lament my death, and neither... should you," she urged, her breaths becoming more labored.

Gale took a deep breath, momentarily glancing down before meeting Threya's gaze with a forced smile. "I must look pathetic to you... I'm sorry," he admitted softly, the weight of helplessness evident in his eyes.

Threya matched Gale's smile with a feeble one of her own. "Don't let this... break you... be the fierce warrior I know you are... that everyone needs you to be," she urged, her voice faltering slightly.

Gale nodded in understanding, unable to do anything else. "Is there anything you want?" he asked gently, his voice tinged with sadness.

With a serene expression, Threya continued, her words punctuated by labored breaths. "Bring peace between the Night's Watch and free folk tribes... and piss on the Weeper's corpse... once you've burned mine," she requested, her voice filled with determination despite her weakened state.

 "And take care of... my clan," she added, her gaze fixed on Gale with unwavering trust.

"I can do that..." Gale replied with a bitter smile, his heart heavy with the weight of her requests.

Threya hesitated, her hand trembling as she reached into her belt and retrieved a knife. "There's... one more thing I need of you," she murmured, her voice barely audible as she weakly placed the weapon into Gale's hand.

Gale's expression contorted with pain as he accepted the knife from Threya. He understood the gravity of her request but found it immensely difficult to comply. 

"Your can to be... too kind... too soft... remember the... bitterness... remember... the pain... it'll help you... make you into... the man you need... to be," Threya whispered, her voice fading with each passing moment, her gaze unwavering as she watched Gale bring the knife toward her chest.

Gale closed his eyes briefly, fighting back his emotions, then forced himself to do what Threya had asked. With a heavy heart, he carried out her request, knowing it was her wish, her last contribution to his journey in this world. 

Tormund trudged through the aftermath of the battle, his expression a mix of curiosity and slight disappointment at missing the action. He observed the scene with a critical eye, noting the carnage left in the wake of the skirmish between the wildlings and the renegades.

Most of the renegades were dead already. The few survivors were restrained by the wildling warriors with the intent of sending them back to the wildling encampment near the Frostfangs to face Rayder's judgment. 

His attention turned toward Val as he approached, her demeanor carrying a mix of surprise and inquisitiveness at seeing him. "Tormund? Aren't you supposed to lead the rangers to an ambush?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow in bemusement.

Tormund scratched his head, a lopsided grin forming on his weathered face. "Aye, I was, but it seems it's all wrapped up now," he replied with a shrug. 

"There was a fierce warrior among the crows. Gave me a good scrap," he explained, his tone carrying a hint of admiration and respect. "I figured I'd come around to ask Gale about him and join the fun while I'm at it, but it seems I'm late to the party," he added, chuckling softly.

Val nodded, acknowledging his words. "Aye, it's nearly done. Only the Weeper remains. Threya and Gale went after him, though," she informed him, her voice carrying an air of confidence. "I reckon it won't be too long before they return the bastard's head," she added with a determined nod.

Before the conversation could deepen, Val and Tormund were alerted by the clamor of the wildling warriors. They swiftly moved to investigate the commotion. 

As they approached, it became apparent that the cause of the uproar was Gale's figure, trudging back toward the battleground with an expressionless face, carrying something substantial in his arms.

Val and Tormund exchanged knowing glances before hastening to Gale's side. Tormund was the first to notice Threya in Gale's grasp. "What... what happened?" he inquired, a frown etching his features.

Gale looked at Tormund, his expression hollow yet tinged with bitterness. 

"I'm still not entirely certain," he murmured, shaking his head as he grappled with the shock of Threya's demise and series of events that lead up to her fate. "But the Weeper is dead... and so is Threya," he uttered, his gaze shifting down to Threya's lifeless face. 

"I'm sorry," Gale apologized, lifting his head once more to meet the gaze of Val and Tormund.

Val's smile was tinged with bitterness, a testament to the weight of the loss they shared. 

Tormund, wearing his usual grin, shook his head but spoke with a matter-of-fact tone. "You've got nothing to apologize for, lad," he reassured Gale. 

"Threya lived her life with a blade in hand, knowing full well that she'd meet her end fighting... she'd tell you as much if she could..." he added, his voice carrying a hint of respect for Threya's resolute nature.

Gale's bitter chuckle resonated softly as he recalled Threya's parting words. "She did indeed," he affirmed, a solemn nod accompanying his words. A heavy sigh escaped him, a reflection of the weight on his shoulders. 

"Let's attend to her and the fallen... There's much yet to be done still," he declared, moving past Threya and Val, his gait determined despite the weight of sorrow he carried.

His steps were deliberate as he moved forward, each stride filled with resolve and a sense of duty, a stark contrast to the mourning heart within him. Threya lay cradled in his arms, her features serene in the aftermath of battle.