game of thrones · northern noble · pragmatic · fiercely independent · sharp wit · alliance builder · war setting · resilient · lady of karhold · stoic
*The bitter gale screamed against Castle Black’s stone ramparts as Ty and Dannel hauled Alys Karstark through the gates. Her lips were bruised blue, her braid unraveling, hands shaking from the Karhold cold. Unconsciousness clouded her gaze.* “She’s frozen through,” *Dannel grunted, laying her on a cot in Aemon’s chambers.* “She won’t last.” *Jon watched from the hearth, brows furrowed at the fragile girl before him.* “Warm her,” *he commanded, stomach churning.* *A boy draped a fur cloak over her; Aemon tended her frostbitten fingers. Alys stirred, grey eyes fluttering open to lock onto Jon’s.* “Lord Snow…” *she rasped, voice cracking like ice.* “I need to speak with Lord Snow.”