Plot: The reader has the greensight as well, and she sees a rather disturbing vision, which saves Jojen, but puts her in danger (with fluff)
It was a vision. That much you were sure of, seeing as you had the greensight, just like Bran, just like Jojen, the boy you secretly loved. You felt your muscles lock into place, and you were frozen in time. This was what always happened in your visions; unlike Jojen, you didn’t have seizures. You simply immobilized. You were a ghost in your own vision; you couldn’t alter them, or even take part in them. This time, you were in a snowy valley-esk place. And directly before you, on top of a hill, stood a Godswood; the biggest one you’ve ever seen. But it was what happened next that would haunt you for the rest of your days.
“Jojen! Jojen, look! We’ve made it!” You heard a familiar voice call. You spun around in place, to see Bran in his sleigh, being pulled by Hodor, and Meera supporting a very sick-looking Jojen. You gasped, your heart being struck with a flash of pain at the thought of Jojen being that sick. He was already in a very bad condition, so you could only imagine what would happen if he got any worse. That’s when you got a bad feeling about this particular vision. You saw Bran, Hodor, Meera, and Jojen walking towards a cave of sorts directly underneath the huge tree, when suddenly, a rotting hand burst out of the snow, before grabbing Jojen’s ankles, tripping him, and dragging him backwards. “JOJEN!” You heard Meera scream as she ran towards him. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you witnessed them fighting off wights that popped up and out of the snow. You witnessed Bran warging into Hodor, and then Jojen getting pushed away by Meera. He tried to get up, and that’s when the wight stabbed him the first time. You let out a scream, as your heart got ripped into a thousand pieces. You saw Meera run over, cradling her brother in her arms, as the wights burst into flames. “He is lost! Come with me, of die with him!” A little girl yelled. A child of the Woods, no doubt. “Go with them,” you heard Jojen say to Meera, and you spun around in him to see her plant a gentle kiss on his forehead, before placing the knife she had found at his throat. “NO!” You closed you eyes tightly shut, before falling to the ground, screaming in agony.
“(Y/N)! (Y/N)! Wake up, please! Come on!” You heard somebody calling you from a distance. You jolted awake, your heart beating a thousand beats per second. You felt sweat dripping down your brow, and you looked around to see your arm was bleeding from five little crescent-shaped wounds you had no doubt created during your nightmare of a vision. You were shaking violently, and you looked up to see Jojen holding you in his arms carefully, his eyes worriedly scanning your face. “W-What happened?” You stammered, as he brushed away a single lock of your hair, which was clearly drenched in sweat, before stroking your cheek gently with his thumb. “Seven Hells, (Y/N), you were screaming bloody murder!” He said, clearly wanting an explanation. You just sighed, before sitting up slowly, your head spinning and your heart hurting, “It’s nothing. Just a nightmare.” You felt bad lying to him, but how could you possibly look at the person you loved most in the world, even if they didn’t know it, and tell them you just watched them die?
You saw in his eyes that he didn’t believe you, but you plastered a fake smile on your face, before getting up and helping Meera pack up. “I have a feeling that we’re getting close to the Three-Eyed Raven,” said Bran, smiling. You saw Jojen and Meera smiling as well, so you forced yourself to copy them, to make sure they didn’t suspect anything. On the inside, you felt your heart dying piece by piece.
After a couple hours, the group had scaled a rather large, snowy hill, and suddenly, when you reached the top, the sight you saw stopped you in your tracks, your blood frozen in your veins; it was the valley from you vision, along with the Godswood, and the cave beneath it.
“Jojen! Jojen, look! We’ve made it!” You heard Bran shout to the boy trailing behind you. You saw him, and Meera supporting him. You felt the blood leave your face, you heart going numb. You couldn’t say anything, not yet. But the ending of the vision you had came to mind, and in that moment, you decided that you weren’t going to let Jojen die. Not today, not for as long as you lived.
About halfway through the valley, you heard the ice cracking. Suddenly, you heard Jojen yelp, and Meera scream, “JOJEN!” You quickly drew your dagger, and started fighting off the wights as best you could. The one you were currently fighting had a longsword, and it had managed to cut your arm badly. You gave out a scream, before stabbing it through the ribcage, and separating it head from the rest of its skeletal body. It fell limp, and you felt the adrenaline rushing through your veins. Suddenly, you saw Meera about to push Jojen out of the way, but you started running FAST. “MEERA, DON’T!” You screamed, just as Meera made contact with Jojen. You dove underneath him, and he landed on you, and you quickly rolled him off you, just as you felt a sharp, agonizing pain in your stomach. Then another, then another.
Yet, the agonizing scream that pierced the air wasn’t yours. It was Jojen’s. He quickly dispatched the wight that stabbed you, before cradling you in his lap, tears spilling down his face shamelessly. ‘God, (Y/N), why did you do that?! Why?!” He cried, trying to keep you awake. “I saw…..y-you died, Jojen……my vision….” you couldn’t say more, since the pain in your the stomach was agonizing, and it was sapping your life force. He just let out a pitiful sob, before hugging you closer to him, his lips resting by your hairline, “Don’t give up, (YN), d-don’t give up!”. You felt his tears on your skin, and you took the moment t say what you needed to before you went, “Jojen…..I-I lo-love you….” You managed to mumble, your energy sapping more than before, your eyes closing. You heard the boy’s breathing hitch, before you felt something soft brush over your lips; Jojen was kissing you. As much as you wanted to respond, you couldn’t find the energy to. But you were glad that you got to tell him you loved him. As everything was fading away, you suddenly heard, “She can be saved! Get her to safety now, or die with her!” It was the voice of the Child of the Woods. And it was the last thing you heard.
But it wasn’t. You could feel, you could hear people talking. So there was no way you were dead. You heard a soft female voice, and a weak male voice reply. You became a bit more conscious, and you could hear their conversation. “…She’s very weak, Jojen. Chances are that she will die, so don’t get your hopes up,” you heard Meera’s distinguishable voice, but she sounded sad. “You don’t get it, Meera. I love her, and she loved me too. It was the last thing she said to me. She wasn’t supposed to die in my place! She changed both her fate and mine….” You heard Jojen reply, his voice quivering. There was a silence, and in that moment, you decided to stop being rude, “I wish people would wait until I was actually dead before burying me six feet under.” You opened our eyes slowly to see Jojen and Meera standing in stunned silence, Jojen’s eyes filled with tears. ”(Y-Y/N)?” Jojen said disbelievingly, before approaching you slowly. You smiled, before trying to sit up. Only problem; you had half a dozen stab wounds in your stomach, so it was practically impossible to do that. You hissed in pain, and Jojen caught you as you fell backwards. He hugged you tightly, burying his face in your hair, and you heard him mumbling, “I love you, I love you, seven hells, I love you.” You smiled, before pushing him away a bit, only to kiss him. For real this time, “I love you too.”
The day before, my eye got slapped by a limb while we were clearing a trail. I couldn’t even open my eye… so I wore glasses (and eventually ended up with a bandanna eye patch). I was basically in misery… then a friend came over as asked us to go hiking. As ridiculous as the idea sounded, it also sounded like exactly what I needed. To get my mind off being blind. So we wandered into the forest, and was soon greeted by a snow shower.We were on a mountain, it was so cold (but I was cozily bundled up), looking down into the snowy valley was breathtaking… joy filled me, no matter what physical state I was in. It was extremely beautiful, even if I only had one eye to see it with.
As for Lafayette, he strove to live as frugally and be as self-denying as any of them. More than forty years later some of his American friends had proof of how well he succeeded; for an old soldier came up and reminded him how one snowy night at Valley Forge he had taken a gun from a shivering sentry and stood guard himself while he sent the man to his own quarters for a pair of stockings and his only blanket; and when these things were brought how he had cut the blanket in two and given him half.
To have a Libra friend, is to have a whole friendship group in one Because she thinks in so many directions as so many people, sideways, backwards, into valleys and snowy altitudes. The Libra has the exquisite beauty of Venus, radiating from her heart like a Pandora’s box of Disney stories She is the blossoming flower of Aphrodite Seducing, charming, elegant, and more And she is double, triple bodied, an air lady who can translucently glide into any shape and form, fusing refined intellect and justice, ambition, power, and law. Beyond the beguiling skin, the Libra’s passions, love, and intelligence runs into the blood of the Warrior spirit that exists in her bones and this swirls with the colour wheel of a dainty forest fairy, sitting high on the clouds blowing tranquility into every calamity. The Libra is the stranger you have known for decades, the arms and the voice that everybody seems to know. She should be treasured for her brain, her most powerful ally, because her wit and charm is an aphrodisiac that can be impossible to deny or neglect She follows these twists and turns into confusing spirals, it’s almost dizzying. The way she takes you on a ride through every double thought and opposition She has made comfortable in the split life of duality and radiates like the beauty emerging from the clam, a portrait of a delighted muse that one day inspired God’s mind
We arrived at Mt Count Cook village, staying at a backpack lodge. The weather was bleak with rain and low hanging clouds. I had planned extra days to wait for good conditions, so I was stoked to find the forecast for blue skies in the morning. The aim was to climb Mount Ollivier. Mount Ollivier is a peak in the Sealey Range west of Mount Cook Village. It is also a very significant summit, as it is the first real mountain Sir Edmund Hilary climbed. With huge panoramic views and history, I was really excited to experience it. As the alarm went off at 5am, I stuck my head out of the sheets to see nothing but the pale reflection of a cloudless sky. Today was on, yes! The sun was still rising, and with the surrounding valley filled with New Zealand’s highest mountains, it had yet to make its way through. The first hours of climbing followed an endless amount of stairs that have been cut into the mountainside. Hard work, but the indescribable beauty of watching the landscapes rise with the elevation made it feel painless. As I edged upward along switchbacks and ridge lines, the view gained with a similar effort. Mount Cook towered across the skyline, lakes and glaciers occupied the floor, and the valley shaped onwards in a coliseum of summits. This was combined with the early morning light and sun rays shadowing across, and the lack of hikers and climbers yet, except for a young French couple slightly ahead. It was the moment that I live for.
There is only one direction ever walked when climbing Mount Ollivier. Up. It is relentless. This also makes for a fast ascent, which is cool. After the stairs fall away, it came to a mountainside lake and alpine flowers covering the ground. The trail then continued upwards, crossing across rock fall and recent snow. A little more care was needed to halt any accidental knock of rocks, or a slip downside. The ascent continued on for another hour, until finally it seemed to edge across a ridge line. Up until this point, the view above us had been entirely hidden, and when we rounded the corner, we were greeted with a breathless sight. An entire wall of mountains, covered in glaciers and leading down into a deep, cavernous gorge. The early summer was causing avalanches on the adjacent mountains, and their collapse roared and echoed through the area. We sat and watched with amazement, trying to locate the avalanches every time they fell, becoming immersed in the ice shelf on Mount Sefton. The natural setup of the mountainside had created a sonic amphitheatre, and every creak and groan was echoed with clear punctuation. Completely awestruck with what I was witnessing, it was one of those rare experiences.
Continuing upwards, there wasn’t much more distance to cover. After a short climb, the distance shape of Mueller’s Hut appeared, a red shaped building on a snowy valley. Mueller Hut is one of the most scene huts in New Zealand. it is the fifth version to be built since 1914, as previous iterations were either swept away by an avalanche or deteriorated over time. The current hut sleeps 28 people and is a home base for many mountaineers and trampers. Deciding not to stop at the hut, we pushed towards the last section, a scramble up boulders and rocks. Making sure that each step was sturdy, the sun was now high above and the surrounding views were even higher.
The summit of Mount Ollivier. Complete magnificent views in all directions. We just sat there and took it all in, while eating the peanut m&ms that came along on the journey. You will need to get there one day yourself, to feel what it is like. After thirty minutes of the best seat in the land, back down we went.
A/N: I had this drabble stored in my drafts because it needed some major editing, but after looking at it some more, I ended up hardly changing anything. It’s a bit longer than my drabble “Sesshomaru Hates” but it’s basically the same thing. Sesshomaru being an aloof uncle. Except this time, it’s with his niece Kaede.
Where the first born had been insufferable but manageable, the second was
excruciatingly intolerable and unavoidable at best.
She had picked up on things earlier than her brother had,
and she wasn’t much for talking. She’d merely stare for long stretches of time
and keep you suspended in that gaze, scrutinizing you, observing you as if you
were the pages in a book.