[ .. Vida And Myself R Not Okay At All .. ] - Tumblr Posts

DRABBLE. vida & dorren [ @sovlbound ] [ 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 ] .. vida waters is missing the deceased dorren mormont.

she heard the old news in wintertown as she purchased passage to bear island, but she didn't believe it. vida's brain scrambled to conjure up an explanation, or an excuse. some of the talk said that the heir had died of an illness, others day he was mauled by one of the bears, some laughed and said that he'd become so sour and bitter he'd just faded away. vida didn't laugh, she turned her eyes downwards with a twitch of her cheek, and slipped something unsavoury into the laughing man's drink.

vida didn't want to listen to any more of the gossip, and she boarded the small ship and spoke to no one. she felt sick, for the first time ever, at sea. she slept uncomfortably, unable to settle, too warm considering the northern chill. she wanted the vessel to hurry up and get there, to bear island, but after this alleged news .. she never wanted arrive at all. vida was out at the railing when the snow started, she'd blanketed herself in her winter cloak, she saw the island draw closer and closed her eyes at the change in temperature; icy winds whipping along the sea and carried from beyond the wall. sunrise came, cold and bright, and she was tired already. she'd long given up blaming it on just a poor sleep ...

she kept her head down as she approached, even her darling brego unrecognizable under his winter blanket and the snowy flurry — she paid someone to leave her wagon by the inn .. she'd camp away, hidden. she needed to know before someone saw her face, and she was noticed .. she needed to know if the rumours, (they weren't rumours, she was deluding herself), were true. she needed to know .. if it was true that dorren was gone. vida knew her way around, she knew which stable boy to trust with her beloved steed — she knew which path to take to get to the crypts without alerting anyone. she knew because of him.

      and there he was.   his serious brow, the roundness of his chin,     even the cleft upon his nose.

he wasn't smiling, he never would again. vida pulled off a worn leather glove and rested a hand against the hard stone, cupping a face with no warmth and looking into eyes with no light .. a harsh statue, for a harsh man. "you should be somewhere snow can find you," she found herself murmuring aloud, "but your mother will be happy to see you again. speak to her warmly of me ... if you do." vida's words were somewhat clipped, the emotion that filled her .. drained out of her voice. her hand trembled against his stone features — and vida remembered when he told her of his secret .. how his hand trembled in hers, as her fingertips explored his scars; how the lines on his face showed with each vulnerable, painful emotion; she'd adored those lines. his features were still now, placid & serious, as she looked up at his face. it seemed a long, long time ago now. vida's back twinged from stretching upwards to reach for his face, and so she settled back down on her feet and dragged her hand down the arm of the statue and towards the boots, and the stone crypt that contained him; dorren.

vida followed the letters with her hands .. her sight had become blurry with tears, she didn't make a sound as wept; only her harsh breathing and the sound of her boots as she gently rested herself upon the likeness of dorren's booted feet. she couldn't sit on .. him .. but she wouldn't be able to rest in herself in his lap again, nor stand on his feet so he could teach her the stupid northern dances, or feel his arms around her anymore; she closed her eyes, catching her breath as best she could, as tears slipped off her cheeks and down onto her clothes, reaching up to find the unyielding stone hand. she wanted to hold it one more time, but that wouldn't happen. not ever again. "i'm sorry," she said quietly, barely audibly. the healer felt exhausted. from the now undeniable grief, from the length and duration of travel, exhausted from life. — "i'm so sorry," vida wiped her face roughly and found her fingers utterly frigid. vida'd been there, weeping, for over an hour.

there was a wet patch of tears on the cloth of her neckline, creating a chill to the warmth of the furs. they'd fallen upon her dress, two damp uneven circles stomach that she stared at for a while. the evidence of her weeping was cold now, but her tears were dry, she had none left it seemed — her eyes, her cheeks .. even her face hurt. vida's hands slipped down now, over her face and touching the furs that lined her hood (she wished they still smelled like him, they had. once...) and downwards. vida's cold, trembling hands smoothed over her stomach, fingers splayed over the growing bulge; the tiny babe inside her shifted around as if it knew her hands were there .. had she been apologising to dorren, or to his child that'd never meet him? — maybe to both. she was approaching seven months now; and no matter what happened now she would bear a snow, even if she left immediately she would still be in the north. but she knew that already, because she carried a bastard regardless. vida could have attempted to return earlier, but she didn't want to present as someone trying to weaponise a babe for a title — she: an adept healer who didn't take any contraceptive? laughable, unbelievably stupid.

    and now .. her mind roared, in agony and panic ... maybe she should have returned sooner? dorren may have been alive, maybe it could have circumvented his death, maybe she should have come back the day she realised that she was with child. maybe... – maybe. the word circled her brain like some bitter-sweet, mocking laughter, haunting her. she'd never wanted to be a mother. her own childhood has been torn apart and tarnished, nonexistent. she never planned to wed either; she always knew any child of hers would be a bastard. maybe she hoped, somehow, the child would be protected in the north. never claimed by the man; dorren would marry a lady and be lord of bear isle .. but vida believed in her soul that the child, their child, would be protected by its' father, likely even loved – even if in secret.

she'd planned to go to dacey, maybe even before seeing dorren — but now she can't begin to contemplate how to face her. because, truthfully, vida didn't deserve a child, not the way dacey she did .. how could vida go to dacey, who already mourned her brother and would then have to face vida, swollen with a child that dacey already knew she never endeavoured to have; vida would now become a twisted reminder of dacey's own lost son, and elder brother. aching, violet eyes closed as a shuddering sigh wracked her, a dry sob burning her throat. moments ticked away, the healers brain spiraled into a deeper well of grief; beyond the expelled tears and beyond the physical exhaustion, she felt the weight of everything settling in her bones. shame, guilt, fear, rage, crushing hopelessness as she contemplated how suddenly alone she was. her body wanted so desperately to buckle under the agony of the knowledge that dorren was dead; to run and run, and run, and scream until her throat hurt and sounds came no more — but how could she? it wasn't just her anymore. horrible coping mechanisms were outside of her grasp, she could hate herself infinitely from this point on — maybe she would — but she couldn't let that hatred affect the child, it will be the little part of dorren she had left. she couldn't do that, she must not.

her body ached from sitting on the hard stone for so long, vida stood with a soft groan — her bones ached, and she was drained from sobbing, her throat ached with screams yet unreleased. the breath that now escaped her, white puffs of air floating in the dark crypt, felt hollow. she trembled, frozen in place — vida knew if she turned around, she'd see the pale likeness of the man she had loved so deeply, and recklessly, and stupidly. she forced herself to turn, lift her gaze to the carved features .. even though she could feel pieces of her soul crumbling away with each second she lingered; her jaw trembled and her eyes stung — it wasn't FAIR .. nothing ever had been fair for her. vida choked back the bile that rose in her throat; all the while the gods laughed at the comedic tragedy, the farce, that was her life. the sound of fabric ripping pierced the air as she tore a lengthy strip of purple fabric from the sleeve of her dress, the dye one she used often in her wardrobe .. distinctively hers .. and tied it around the hilt of the stone sword. a parting gift, a piece of her to rest with him, an apology. whatever she had planned to say, she couldn't remember, because she looked up at his stone gaze again and her bottom lip trembled as though she was a child .. even though her eyes burned, more tears force their way from her swollen, red eyes .. "i can't do this alone anymore, dorren. i– i'm .. scared," she whispered, croakily, her voice so small she didn't even recognise it when it reached her own ears. vida stared desperately at the statue's face, trying to bend the world to her will, unwrite what had happened .. the inescapable reality of beholding his crypt as she wept helplessly threatening to unravel her (if not for the child, it was all that kept her somewhat tethered).

    " .. look at me, p-please," she begged brokenly

she reached out for the cold, unyielding stone. begging him to come back, begging the statue to come to life, twist the laws of the gods and men, so she could feel him hold her again; so he could smile and look at her; speak her name and make her feel strong, and loved. so she could hear him say i love you, and so she could say it back. "    "please .. just look at me!" her breath caught in her throat as her tone flared in furious, pointless anger. it flashed like hot oil, and was gone as quick. the helplessness returned with an icy vengeance, she covered her face with her hands and sank slowly to the ground, legs curling underneath her — "why won't you look at me?" vida all but whimpered into her palms, she wasn't going mad (not yet) but she was desperately in pieces. and terrified, and ruined by all the blows that life had dealt her. she let out an aching sob; a scream was strangled in her throat and muffled by her hands, but it echoed into the crypt's darkness. she began to hyperventilate, tear-soaked face resting against unforgiving stone as she covered her mouth again — because vida knew the horrible truth burning in what's left of her heart: she doesn't have it in her to live anymore, not after this .. but the life in her womb means she no longer has a choice. she has to keep living, even if colours will never seem as bright nor the air as sweet. vida loathed herself for the next words that she whispered weakly against her lost love's tomb; a hoarse and fragile voice so unlike the one he'd once adored. "help me, dorren. — help me .. to not ha-hate our child for keeping me here. if not for it .. i would already be growing cold next to you. gods help me– i was never meant to be a mother."