This is based on an idea I found on reddit the other day. I would give credit to the poster, but the username is deleted. Disclaimer: I don't own ASOIAF. That belongs to GRRM and associated parties. I'm not making any money off this, blah blah blah. The only thing I own involved in this project is my computer.

Gared did not like this.

He and two others had set out from Starbase Black ten days ago in a small rangeship, and ever since had been traveling. They had found no signs of life, not even of the savage Wildlings, who were so primitive that they didn't possess warp drives.

That is, until now.

"We should start back," he urged. The faint light of the faraway suns were fading by now, casting the many small, icy worlds of the Ice Nebula in darkness. "The wildlings are dead."

"Do the dead frighten you?" Knight-Captain Ser Waymar Royce asked, a smile threatening to appear on his face.

Gared ignored him. At seventy four, considered just around middle-aged, he had seen pompous, privileged recruits come and go. "Dead is dead," he said. "We have no business with the dead."

"Are they dead," Royce asked quietly, cocking his head. "What proof is there?"

"Will saw them with his oculoscope," Gared retorted. "If he says they are dead, that's proof enough for me."

Will sighed, not wanting to get involved. "My mother told me that dead men sing no songs."

"My wet nurse said the same thing, Will," the Knight-Captain replied. "Never believe anything you hear at a robot's tit. There are things we can learn even from the dead."

"We have a long journey ahead of us," Gared pointed out. "Eight standard days, maybe nine. And night is falling."

The knight glanced at the sky dismissively. "It does that every day at around this time. Are you afraid of the darkness, Gared?"

Gared tensed, rage welling up inside him, only barely held in check. Gared had spent sixty years in the Night's Watch fleet, barely a man when he joined. He did not take such insults lightly. But after a moment, his wounded pride and rage were soothed by something much rarer- a small bit of fear.

He could see that Will felt the same. There was something wrong with this particular world orbiting the cold star at the center of the nebula. Something was… off- the cold was strange, unnatural. Gared felt that they should board their small rangeship and set off for the safety of the Night Wall as quickly as possible. But that wasn't something that he could tell his commander.

Knight-Captain Royce was the youngest son of a long line of proud lords, one that now found itself with too many members. He was merely twenty-seven, with eyes greyed by implants and a slender form. He rode upon a large synthosteed, equipped with weapons that made those Gared and Will possessed seem like toys.

He wore a long black strongsilk cloak, with the telltale glint of cheap durasteel underneath. On his left arm was mounted a mid-quality Power Gauntlet, a telltale sign of a noble. By his side hung the hilt of a plasmablade, another mark of high status.

Royce had been a Sworn Sailor of the Night's Watch Fleet for less than half a cycle, and not a single brother could say he had not prepared for this ranging, at least when one considered his wardrobe.

"Lord Admiral Mormont said that we should track 'em, and that's what we did," Gared told him. "They're dead, perished, and they aren't going to be bothering anyone no longer. The ship's sensors say that we're in for a rough journey, what with the gas storms approaching this sector. We'll be lucky to skirt the edge. If we get stuck in it, we could be immobilized for days, and there's a possibility of a cosmic rift within the week.

Royce ignored him, instead opting to focus intently on the gas giant this world was slowly being pulled towards, its destruction inevitable within a century. Drumming his fingers on the hilt of his plasmablade, he ordered, "Tell me again what you saw, Will. Everything- don't skim over any details."

Will had been a non-human bounty hunter before he joined the Night's Watch Fleet, hunting down and killing dangerous creatures for a hefty sum. However, he hadn't had a license, and when Governor Mallister's men had caught him, he had the choice between fifteen years in a deep-space labor camp or joining the Fleet. Will was the best tracker in the Fleet, and one of the stealthiest, too.

"The settlement is two miles from here, over that ridge, beside an ammonia stream," Will said, frowning through the glass visor that obscured his face. "I got as close as I could without being detected, maybe two hundred feet. There's eight of them, both genders present, with no women as far as I could tell. They erected a shelter against a big cliff and put up a field to protect it from the elements. The field's down now, so the place was almost entirely covered with snow, but the sensors on my oculoscope could still make it out. The thermal generator was down too, but still in working condition. Just deactivated. Everyone was dead- my 'scope picked up no life readings."

"Did you see any wounds, or did your scope determine a cause of death?"

"Well, no," the ranger admitted.

"Did you see any weapons?"

"Some repeaters, a few rifles. One man had a cannon strapped to his back. Heavy one- maybe a gamma ray gun. Some fuel cells were in the snow next to him. None had shields."

"How were the bodies?"

"Most looked like they'd fallen, but a few were propped up against a rock," Will shrugged. "Looked like they had been moved there, almost."

"Maybe the ones on the ground were sleeping," Royce suggested.

"No, they'd fallen. They were splayed all around," Will insisted. "There was one woman up in the trees, with a sniper blaster. I made sure she didn't see me- disguised my thermal. But when I got closer, I saw she was dead too." He shivered a bit. It looked involuntary to Gared.

"Your equipment not working right?" Royce asked.

"No- it is. The wind's getting through it, though."

The Knight-Captain turned dismissively to his other ranger. "What do you think caused their deaths, Gared?"

There was a cold conviction in Gared's voice when he spoke. "It was the cold," he stated. "I saw men freeze many a times on these worlds, and the wildlings have few portable heating units. If they ran out of fuel for their generator… it wouldn't be long before they began to feel warm rather than cool, as if some power above had pitied them and decided to warm them. Before much time had passed, they would have simply passed away, feeling for all the world like they were in a Dornish cantina."

"Beautiful words, Gared," Royce remarked dryly. "I would've never thought it in you."

"Well, the cold's getting in me too, ser. I know- I've felt it before." Gared checked his portable thermal field generator. "Lost power in one of these years back. I've got a cybernetic hand now because of that. And I've known far too many who've frozen to death with smiles on their faces."

The Knight-Captain shrugged. "You should take better care of your equipment, sailor."

Gared glared at the man, his opaque visor hiding his hateful eyes. "We'll see how well you fare on a truly cold planet." He turned away, hunched over, and fell silent.

"If he says it was the cold that did them in…" Will began.

"Have you served a shift on patrol this week, Will?" Royce asked.

"Yes, ser." Will had notorious bad luck with the patrols. He spent more time in a starfighter than out.

"And how did you find the Wall?"

"Weeping," Will said, referring to when the cold star at the heart of the nebula was unusually warm, disrupting the orbits of the many asteroids that made up the Oort Cloud known as the Night's Wall. "I doubt they could have froze, if the Wall was weeping. This isn't an especially cold world, so if the star was warm, then it wasn't chilly enough."

Royce bobbed his head in assent. "Smart lad. We've had a few gas storms recently, and a cosmic rift the other day, but nothing indicating temperatures low enough to kill grown men. Men clad in Wyon fur, with a thermal generator, let me remind you." The knight was confident, an easy smile gracing his face. "Will, lead the way. I would like to view these dead men myself."

The code of the Fleet bound them to follow the order, so Will took the lead with his synthosteed, the robotic beast hardly making a sound in the snow. Terrain didn't much matter, as even the cheapest synthosteeds could easily adapt to nearly any ground. The most expensive ones, which perhaps Royce could have afforded back when he was a real lordling, simply hovered, bypassing any issues of the sort.

The night grew darker as they traveled. They were only thirty million miles from the cold star, but its light was so weak that night lasted most of a rotation on this world. Stars and other worlds began to appear, pinpricks of light in the sky.

The gas giant reflected some of the cold star's light, bathing the land in a soft glow. They were all grateful, as the synthosteeds' headlamps could only do so much.

"We can do better than this for speed, surely," Royce said after the gas giant had reached its peak of light.

"Perhaps your mount can, but ours our not of the same standard," Will shot back, fear removing most of his deference. "Perhaps, ser, you would prefer to go on ahead?"

The Knight-Captain snorted, affronted, but said nothing.

Somewhere nearby, a pack of icewolves howled.

Will leapt down from his steed, landing ungracefully in the snow.

"Why are you stopping?" Royce asked.

"It's right over the ridge, ser, and in case they are alive, as you suspect, it's better to travel on foot, in case they hear our steeds."

The Knight-Captain paused a moment, his visor reflecting the cold light of the gaseous world above. A strange wind whistled through the trees.

"Something ain't right here," Gared muttered.

"It isn't? Pray tell." Royce's visor was clear, unlike Gared's and Will's, and a mocking smile crested his face.

"Can't you tell?" Gared asked. "Listen."

Will suddenly tensed, and Gared knew he understood. Fear was in the air. He could nearly touch it, taste it, see it. Something was very wrong.

"A great many sounds, yes, but none which are out of place. Do the leaves rustling truly bring you so much fear, Gared?" The ser chuckled as he asked the question. Gared didn't reply, so Royce dismounted his steed, holding the hilt of his plasmablade in his hand. Gared had seen the likes of those few times before, and it was a beautiful thing, with jewels scattered along its length. It looked unused.

"There isn't much light here, ser," Will said in a warning tone. "If you activate the blade, it'll give us up to anything within a mile. Better go with some durasteel- I have a dagger in my pack."

"If I decide that I wish to be instructed, I will tell you," The Knight-Captain commanded. "Gared! Stay, guard our steeds."

Gared nodded. "I'll set up a comm beacon, so we can report back to the fleet."

"A beacon, you fool?" Royce asked in disbelief. "If there are any wildlings within communications equipment on this planet, they'll pick up our signal instantly."

"A beacon will keep away animals, though," Gared countered. "Animals and… other things."

Royce's face became a mask of grim resolve. "No beacon."

Gared said nothing for a moment, then relaxed. "No beacon," he agreed, quietly.

Royce turned away, starting up the hill. "Lead the way," he commanded to Will.

A moment after they climbed the ridge, Gared followed, watching from the top by a great sentinel tree that stretched hundreds of feet into the sky.

"Gods," he heard Royce swear as he hacked his way through the trees. Looking around, Gared realized that he could see no sign of all the bodies Will had spoken of.

Will whispered something that Gared could not make out, but from its tone, it was something urgent. Royce didn't move, laughing a loud, clear laugh and declaring, "Your dead men seem to have decided they didn't approve of this locale, Will."

Will didn't speak. Gared followed his eyes, watching as they landed on the gamma ray cannon he had spoken of earlier. The wildlings would never leave that behind, stupid as they were, without a fight. And Gared saw no sign of such a struggle.

"On your feet, sailor," Royce ordered. "I don't see anyone. I won't have you hiding from men that aren't there."

Slowly, Will got to his feet.

Ser Waymar looked around, dismay evident in his eyes. "I refuse to return to Starbase Black a failure on my first expedition. We will find these savages. Up the tree, and be quick. Look for a thermal field nearby."

Gared watched as Will scurried up an ironwood perhaps two hundred feet in height.

The ranger's attention was ripped away from his long-time comrade as his commander called out, suddenly, "Who goes there?" Although his tone was confident, there was an undercurrent of abject fear.

He could see Will stop moving as well, uncertain.

No answer came, and for a moment Gared thought that the Night-Captain had lost his wits. But then he saw movement, to his right, barely visible.

Glowing white shapes were moving through the woods. When Gared tried to look directly at one, it disappeared. Gared couldn't move- fear had gripped him, seized control of his body. If Will said anything, he didn't hear it.

He was brought out of his trance by Knight-Captain Royce's clear voice. "Will, where are you? Can you see anything?" The knight was turning slowly, plasmablade ignited and casting the clearing in a soft red glow. "Answer me!" As a sudden chill swept the area, seizing the clearing its cold grip and holding tight, he shouted once more, this time exclaiming, "Why is it so cold?"

Gared's thermal generator had overloaded from the effort of trying to keep him warm, and would remain inactive until he got to warmer temperatures. As he frantically tried to restart the piece of machinery, he saw it.

A glowing shape slid from the woods. It was tall, and was nearly transparent. It almost looked like it was made of light, and Gared thought he could make out flowing lines of code running across its skin in intricate patterns. At the same time, it also seemed to camouflage as it moved. It was like Gared was seeing two beings at the same time- one a pale white ghost, the other a rapidly morphing shape that took the color of the scenery around it.

Ser Waymar exhaled sharply, nervously. "Come no farther!" The Knight-Captain's voice was full of fear, cracking like a boy of three-and-ten. He threw his cloak back, revealing the light durasteel plate, and Gared heard shields whirring to life as the lordling pressed a button on his Power Gauntlet.

As the Other began to glide forward, Royce raised his Gauntlet. With a hum and a flash, a burst of blue light flew towards the Other, but harmlessly dissolved a few inches from its skin, with the telltale blur and shimmer of a shield visible for a few seconds. The Other stopped for a moment, and then the strangest plasmablade Gared had ever seen appeared in its hand as if from nothing. It was long and white, with occasional swirls of ice-blue light flowing around it.

Ser Waymar Royce looked at his Gauntlet for a moment in dismay, but then straightened. When he spoke, his voice was devoid of its earlier fear. "Dance with me then," he declared, in a moment of bravery that surprised Gared. He lifted his plasmablade high, defiance shining in his eyes. In that moment, and forever after, Gared was proud to call him a comrade.

The Other stopped, its eyes flickering around faster than Gared could track. They were pure blue, shining like miniature suns. For a moment, Gared was lost in their sheer beauty, but he awakened from the spell as more Others floated in from the woods around the clearing. Five at least, perhaps more.

Gared wanted to warn the ser, to do something, but couldn't speak, couldn't move. His mind wasn't frozen in the same way as before, but his body certainly was. The Knight-Captain showed no fear, grim in his duty. And then the Other moved.

A pale, glowing blade moved silently and swiftly through the night air.

Royce met it with a blade of his own, but unlike the usual electric sound that resulted from two plasmablades clashing, a high, piercing wail echoed through the woods. The Other kept striking, impossibly fast, and it spoke to Ser Waymar's skill, speed, and intelligence that he managed to parry the blows. Still, he was pushed back a step. Then another. And then once more.

The remaining Others watched silently, impassive spectators to a battle between man and something beyond him. They made no move, content to stand still.

On and on the battle went, and thirty seconds felt like an eternity. The sound of the blades meeting was nearly driving Gared mad, and he could see Will covering his ears.

Royce was getting tired. He panted as he was pushed back yet another step, feinting at the Other's right, striking at its left, deflected. The Other swung, Royce parried. The cycle continued.

Until the Knight-Captain moved a millisecond too slow. The plasmablade grazed his side, cauterizing the wound it made and filling Gared's nostrils with the terrible smell of burnt flesh. Royce touched his side, crying out in pain.

The Other spoke then, in a language that sounded like a mix between ice cracking, a computer whirring, and a beautiful song. Gared could tell, however, that the words were mocking, humiliating the brave knight.

Ser Royce moved forward with renewed fury. "For Consul Robert!"

He snarled, lifting his red-hued plasma blade and swinging it in a savage sidearm slash, putting all his weight behind the blade. The Other moved to parry before Royce even lifted the sword, predicting his actions.

When the plasmablades met, Royce's overloaded, burning out. The hilt exploded, taking the knight's right hand with it.

The sound was too terrible for Gared to describe, but it stayed in his head for the rest of his brief life. Royce fell to his knees and screamed himself hoarse, covering his eyes, blood welling from a thousand tiny cuts across his body.

And then the rest of the Others moved, swinging at Royce in cold silence. If his shields were still active, they had no effect, as the plasmablades cut him to ribbons without even a single shimmer.

The Others were laughing.

Will had closed his eyes, but Gared still had no control of his body, so he was forced to watch his commander die a gruesome death. He looked so small there, a mere boy. As Gared watched the Knight-Captain's body, the Others seemed to vanish.

Will climbed down from the tree, picking up Royce's shattered hilt. He looked around, not noticing Gared. As he stood, Ser Royce rose behind him, blue eyes glowing, the same lines of numbers crossing his body, although his skin was still that of a man.

Will turned, and then seemed to close his eyes right before Royce grabbed his throat, squeezing it.

Gared ran.

A/N: So I know that Will is the POV character of the prologue, actually, but I accidentally started writing as Gared and then just ran with it. Please read and review, and I would prefer no flames, although I realize that the haters need to flame to keep themselves warm.

Cheers,

TGLD