The Humiliation of Lyanna Mormont
Fear Cuts Deep
“Gods be good!” Lyanna exclaimed in shock as she took in a sharp intake of breath and her fingers rushed to cover her blasphemous mouth.
A wave of terror washed over her as she watched the north gate tremble, groan, and finally collapse; crashing down to the ground with explosive force. Time seemed to stand still as splinters and shards of wood flew outwards from the ruined gate, dotting the air like missiles from a trebuchet.
“Shields!” Lyanna cried out as her army was pelted with the sharpened slivers of oak and iron. She was nearly skewered through herself but was saved by a soldier quick-thinking to thrust up his shield to protect her. As she spun around, she was greeted by the well-known cobalt gaze of Cobb Bright-Eyes. “My thanks,” the girl managed to murmur even as the terror that had seized her moments before now threatened to consume her completely.
Lyanna and her bannermen panted heavily and stood staring at the shattered gate, waiting to see what new horror would emerge from the mist. A sound not unlike the languid call of a beached whale filled the air as a truly horrifying creature smashed through the two huge crenelated bulwarks flanking the arched gate. It was a wight unlike any the men had ever seen. The creature's eyes had nearly completely rotted away but there were two small lights glowing like fiery orbs inside of its sunken sockets, gleaming with an otherworldly yellow hue. Atop its colossal frame, the giant's bald pate revealed a desolate landscape of exposed skull, while its mossy, knotted hair and beard resembled the writhing tendrils of a monstrous squid, entangled with filth and decay. The giant's skin clung to its skeletal frame, withered and taut against the bones beneath.
The giant's corpse bore the scars of time, ravaged by the harsh elements and the relentless passage of the ages. There was no telling how old it was or when it had died, but it looked to be truly ancient. Yet, despite its decaying form, the hulking colossus commanded a formidable stature. Thick-knotted, corded muscles adorned its rotting arms and bulged through its withered skin. The creature evoked the deities of frost and death revered by the Free Folk of the Frozen Shore, only it was somehow even more terrifying. In the presence of this abomination, Lyanna felt the icy grip of mortality tighten as if the very essence of winter itself has come to claim the living. It was frequently said that fear cuts deeper than swords, and at that moment, horror shot through her, filling her mind with a stabbing, penetrating anguish. Lyanna felt it as sharply as any pain she had ever experienced.