Summary: Instead of simply knocking Jon out Craster tries to kill him prompting a series of events that will forever change Westeros.
Disclaimer: Game Of Thrones is the property of George RR Martin.
This fiction is completely finished, new chapters will be added every Friday.
Chapter One
The Boy Lost In The Snow
Jon knew that Craster was going to kill him. One or two blows would glance off his chest or legs, but the majority of them would land on his head; his dark curls becoming soaked with blood.
"Father, I hope you can forgive me for dying like this." He thought, his body going limp and waiting for the next blow that would surely be the last.
Agreeing with this, Craster raised the club over and behind his head, but when he brought it back down his wrist was seized in a pale grip.
"Wh-what are you doing?" The wildling gasped, the white walker shoving him aside in reply.
Even though his vision was blurry Jon could see that this walker was different from the one that took the baby: It was tall, but not skeletal, and garbed in plate armor that blended with the shifting shadows. The Snow knew he should have been afraid as it bent down to peer closely at his face, but he was too far gone to feel anything but pain.
"Let it end." He croaked, a droplet of blood landing on the Other's cheek.
The ice demon swiped it off and sucked the finger into its mouth, a grating sound filling the air as it rolled the taste about its tongue.
"Is it going to eat me?" Jon wondered. "Please let it kill me first."
Having come to some sort of conclusion, the Other scooped Jon's body up into its arms.
"What are you going to do with with him?" He heard Craster ask as the creature started carrying Jon away.
If it answered Jon didn't know, for the darkness creeping about his vision finally grew too thick and he passed out.
When he next awoke he was in a cave with the pelt of an animal, still holding the metallic scent of blood, cushioning his body against the stone floor. When Jon made to pull his cloak-which was draped over him like a blanket-tighter to his body he noticed that his wrist were bound by cuffs made of glowing frost. The one who put them there was sitting at Jon's side, watching him with glowing blue eyes that rested on a face so beautiful it made him want to weep.
"What do you want?" Jon croaked.
Instead of answering him the Other reached down and picked up a bundle of rags. When the bundle started squirming Jon realized it was Craster's son, and snatched it from the creatures proffered hands.
"Shush, it's okay." He hushed, hugging the baby tight to his body. There was no fire in the cave, just a mound of crystals that gave off a soft blue light but no heat; three, more skeletal, looking Others sitting around it watching Jon as intently as the fourth. Jon meant to stay awake, in case they tried to attack, but the throbbing in his head forced him back to sleep.
When he awoke again the baby was still in his arms, but the cave ceiling had been replaced by a tent, and yet another pelt was draped over his body.
"Where are the people who owned this tent?" Jon questioned, noting the clothes that looked like they could fit a small child. Again the fourth Other didn't answer, but he-it was too bulky to be female-crawled cover with a bowl filled with a blue, snow like, substance. "What is that?"
The Other furrowed his brow, and scooped a bit of the snow onto a slender finger. Making sure Jon was watching, he smeared the snow on a jagged scar marring his outer arm; the blue snow seeping into the cut and leaving a pale line on the flesh.
"Are you going to use that on my head?" Jon questioned, touching a weeping scar at his temple.
The Other moved the finger away, and smeared the salve on the wound, Jon gritting his teeth at the freezing burn that followed. He had passed out by the time the salve was applied to the fourth cut.
This time Craster's son was being held by one of the skeleton Others, who cradled him in one arm while the other steered his undead mount.
"Where are we going?" Jon asked, seeing nothing but blinding white snow for miles around.
The Other holding him in the saddle said something, that might have been soothing, but sounded like breaking ice to Jon's ears.
Jon came to three more times during the journey, and he thought for sure that he wouldn't awake for a fourth time. The Others were moving further and further North where it was so cold that Jon doubted a fire could warm him even if the creatures allowed him to light one.
"The baby will freeze to death." He tried to reason. "I will freeze to death."
The fourth Other shook his head, and left the shelter, returning about a half hour later with a bowl of half frozen jerky and a blanket that looked like it had been stitched out of different articles of clothing. Jon would tell himself that he took them off of dead bodies he'd found in the snow. However Jon did wake up for a fourth time, and he found the baby alive as well...although he wasn't sure if he would stay that way.
"What are you doing?" Jon gasped, the fourth Other holding him down when he tried to stand up. Not too far away was an altar of ice where a Other robed in black stood holding Craster's son. He had the same physique as the fourth, but with a far more demonic appearance; a row of white horns making a crown on the top of his head. For a moment the baby fussed and wriggled-so used to Jon's tight embrace-but went eerily quiet after the demon Other put a finger upon his cheek. "Y-you killed him! Why would you bother doing your best to keep him alive if you just planned to kill him?!"
The fourth Other tried to shush him, but Jon had already drew the demon's attention; a crackled command prompting two skelton Others to drag him to the alter. Jon struggled as they laid him upon the altar, but he was too weak from scarce rations and his throbbing head.
"No, don't! Please, don't!" He begged, the demon Other seizing his head in between his cold palms. The sky above him was choked by dark clouds, and a ghostly green light that swirled about them like a sewing needle. The musing made him think of the time Sansa had helped him mend a tear in his breeches which in turned led him to memories of his other siblings. "I'm sorry,I'm so sorry!"
The demon Other frowned, and looked back at the fourth who shrugged and tapped his own head. The demon shrugged and turned back to Jon, squeezing his head until they locked eyes with his. Like blue stars, they were, and seemed to pull Jon in like a fish on a lure. Slowly his struggles to get free ceased, and the cold fear was replaced by pure cold; his veins turning to ice, and his breath feeling more like frost than actual air.
Once again Jon passed out, but not before he felt the strange cold filling his eyes.
[You said you wanted another child.]
There was a loud slap.
[THAT IS NOT A CHILD, THORVALD!] A woman shrieked. [He looks old enough to have a mate and children of his own. The Council could have had your head for bringing him here!]
[But they didn't.] Thorvald argued earning him another slap. [He's special, Tola, the fact that he survived the transformation is proof.]
[How do you even know he made it?] Tola argued. [His brain had started drowning in its own blood when you brought him here, and he could have died during the ritual and simply be another wight!]
[Wights don't have beating hearts.] Thorvald reminded. [And they certainly don't have the sense to pretend to be asleep either.]
Jon's eyes snapped open before he could stop them. He was laying on a palette of furs in the corner of a room that would be like one found on a wealthy homestead if not for the fact that the walls, floor, ceiling, and furniture were made out of solid ice.
[Good to see you awake, young one.] Thorvald grinned.
With a start Jon realized that he was the fourth Other who had saved him from Craster; wearing silk like robes of black and blue. To his left sat a another male Other who looked to be around ten, and on his right stood a female Other cradling a baby in her arms.
[H-how can I understand-] Jon clapped a hand over his mouth as the forgiven words flowed off his tongue.
At the table Thorvald gave Tola a smug look, and turned to the boy.
[Alrik, go tell the Council that your cousin is awake, and I will be bringing him down to meet them.]
[Yes, uncle.] Alrik nodded, hopping off the chair and rushing out the room.
[Cousin? Why did you call me that? And how in the seven hells can I understand and speak your language!?]
The yell proved too distressing for the baby who let out a bleating cry.
[I'll go settle Erda down, and find the boy some clothes.] Tola sighed. [I expect you to explain what is going on by the time I get back.]
[Yes, my love.] Thorvald sighed, leaning up to kiss both his wife and child as they walked out the room. He then rose and walked over to Jon, a chair rising out of the ice floor.
[How did you do that,?] Jon gaped.
[With this.] Thorvald replied, tapping his temple. [We Skrothians have the ability to manipulate ice with our will. It is a bit of a trial but something you will get good at with practice.]
Jon frowned. [I will? But how? I'm human.]
Thorvald let out a heavy sigh. [Before I begin, can you please tell me your name?]
Jon hesitated before he told him: [I am called Jon Snow of Winterfell.]
[It is nice to meat you, Jon. I am Thorvald, son of Alti, captain of the Frostgate guard. The city where you are currently in.] He added at Jon's confused look.
[Why did you bring me?]
[Because you would have died if you had stayed completely human.] Thorvald held up a hand when Jon made to speak. [One of the gifts of our people is the ability to change the members of other races into ours, however we can only do so to babies and very young children.]
[How come?] Jon inquired, sitting up.
[Well,my mother once said it was because their blood was thin whereas older children and adults have blood so thick that they die before our magic can finish transforming them.]
[Then how come I am still alive? I just turned eight and ten.]
Thorvald rolled his eyes. [Just so you know, you won't be considered an adult until you are eight and one hundred, and as to why you survived.]-The Skrothian shrugged.-[There is something in your blood Jon-what it is I do not know-, but whatever it is it not only allowed you to go through the transformation but come out with half of your humanity intact. Something that our kind has never seen before.]
[But why? Why did you bother bringing me here in the first place?] Jon clarifyed.
Thorvald's face became lined with sorrow, his hand clutching an opal pendant around his neck. [I lost my elder brother, Ulfar, two years ago. We were doing battle with the humans in the mountains and accidentally triggered an avalanche. His wife, Maeva, was so heartbroken by the lost that she took her own life leaving Tola and I to raise their son, Alrik.]
[I am sorry for your loss...recently I lost my father.]
[How?]
Jon's hands clenched the bed furs.
[He found out that the queen of our country had conceived our princes and princess with her own twin brother. When he tried to reveal this fact they had him executed as a traitor, and took my two half sisters hostage.]
Thorvald placed a comforting hand on Jon's shoulders, the flesh not as frigid as he remembered.
[To lose a loved one is to finally know true pain, and could be even worse knowing that they were lost for no reason at all.] He grimly remarked. [Despite what your people have told of us, the Skrothians are not completely impervious to cold. The Council has foretold of yet another century long winter, and we will perish if we do not get south before this summer comes to an end.]
Jon's head jerked up, thinking about the cold and ice he had journeyed through. [That is what your summers are like?]
[I know it might seem harsh in your eyes,] Thorvald chuckled. [But true winter can get so cold that Skrothians have been known to freeze to death beneath the sweep of a single breeze.]
[That's horrible.] Jon recoiled.
[It is beyond horrible, which is why we have to get south. Usually the cities and settlements we have beyond the Wall are sufficient, but in the past decade our population has grown so massive that only the lands the opposite side of it will be able to support us until spring comes again.]
[Which is why you have been increasing your attacks.] Jon summarized.
Thorvald nodded. [Many say that the scars the humans and Skrothians have dealt each other has created a wall too thick to ever pass, but I do not think that is true. I believe that the largest of barriers is the fact that the humans can not speak our tongue, and are too fearful of us to take the time to learn.]
[Which is where I come in.]
Again Thorvald nodded. [Even the oldest of human children we have transformed have been too Skrothian in their look, but you don't have that problem. You can translate between our two races; be the bridge that connects us.]
[But that doesn't mean that we will be able to make peace.] Jon argued, raking his fingers through his hair. [Just getting near the Lord Commander without him trying to kill me would be a miracle!]
[I know that, but it is a risk we must take.] He stared into Jon's eyes. [As we speak a battalion of soldiers are preparing to march on your comrades stationed in the mountains. They have been ordered to kill them all, and turn them into wights.]
[They can't!] Jon gasped. [My friends are at the Fist, th-they don't deserve to die, none of them do!]
[I know that, which is why I need your help to convince the council to try for peace.] Thorvald explained. [They are the oldest members of our race, and many of them are as set in their ways as the mountains are set in the earth.]
Jon frowned. [Then I don't see how I can help. Bastards are not known to have moved many mountains.]
Thorvald gave him a pitying look. [It breaks my heart to see how small the world has taught you to see yourself. The fact that you are here talking to me is proof of the wonders you can do!]
[But that doesn't mean I can do them!] Jon insisted. [I can try to convince the Council and the Night's Watch to make peace, but that doesn't mean I will succeed in doing so.]
[And I am not that foolish, nor that cruel, to expect you to succeed.] Thorvald confessed. [But I am begging you on behalf of my wife, daughter, and all those whom I have loved and lost to try at least once.]
Jon worried his bottom lip. [But what if they say no?]
[Then countless innocents, from both of our races, will perish either by the sword or by winter's cruel grasp.] Thorvald replied frankly. [However, the same thing will happen if you do not ask at all.]
Jon threw up his hand in exasperation. [Then why should I ask!?]
[Because there is a chance that they will say yes.]
Alrik stood in the doorway, twisting the hem of his tunic.
[Uncle Thorvald feels guilty that he wasn't able to stop my mother and father from leaving this world, but I will never be able to hate him because I know he tried his best to save them...and I won't be able to hate you either, Jon, even if the Council and your Night's Watch does say no.]
Jon's heart stopped in his chest. In that moment he did not see a beautiful ice fey, but Sansa. He had heard tales that his half-sister had begged, with all her heart and soul, for someone to save their father. For someone to stop a sadistic monster from murdering a single man. Now Jon found himself being asked by two creatures-who his people swore were even greater monsters-to at least try to help save not only their race, but his race as well.
[...I will never know for certain , but I have a strong feeling that my father would want me to try as well.]
[Do you not like the clothes, Jon?]
Jon shook his head. [No. In fact I think they are very nice.]
Besides being good human-hunting-mounts, ice spiders were also able to produce a silk that was as soft as snow, but strong as steel. Tola had given Jon a long sleeved undershirt the color of frost with a midnight blue jerkin that had bell sleeves and silver embroidery, with white trousers, and grey boots that went up to the knee.
[Then how come you are frowning?] Tola inquired.
Jon let out a sigh. [Because I look so different.]
Of course Jon still looked like himself, but it was as if an artist had come and chiseled out the imperfections in his face, and balanced out his features. His skin was a shade away from white, and his hair had darkened to true black as well as grew out so that it fell below his shoulder blades; the length perfect for hiding the pointed tips of his ears. Since he was only half Skrothian his eyes were not a glowing blue, but the grey did fade into a light cobalt around the edges.
Tola rolled her eyes and started twisting the top layer of Jon's hair in a fishnet braid.
[You look beautiful, Jon, both human and Skrothian women will be fighting for a chance to be your mate.]
Jon blushed, but was kept from ducking his head by Tola's weaving fingers.
[Can you tell me more about the Council? Who is their leader?]
[Technically they rule as equals, but Vethorn usually holds the most weight in their decisions. He is also the one who conducted your transformation.] She added, plucking a crystal bead from a bowl to thread on the juncture where the strands crossed. [Which came as a big shock to everyone since he hates humans with a passion, especially members of the Night's Watch.]
[How come?] Jon gulped.
Tola shrugged. [Word has it that a member killed his mate, but it is really just a rumor.]
She finished off the net into a single fishtail, and marked it amongst the waves of loose curls with a clasp of curled, silver, wire.
[I suggest you get used to Tola playing with your hair,] Thorvald smirked, when Jon walked back into the main room. [She is obsessed with braids.]
That explained the intricate plates in Thorvald's, Alrik's, and even baby Erda's hair.
[Put this on, Jon.] Tola said, handing him a cloak made from the pelt of a snow bear. [There was a minor collapse in the eastern tunnel that has let in the worse of drafts.]
Jon frowned as he clipped the cloak about his shoulders. [Tunnel?]
Instead of explaining, Thorvald ushered Jon outside where he could get a look at their city.
[Seven hells!]
Frostgate wasn't only massive-stretching for miles around-, but built entirely underground; a large crystal hanging from the soaring ceiling acting in place of the sun and bathing the city in a pale blue light. Columns of mile-wide ice acted as both support beams and housing to the Skrothians who moved about them using bridges, and cage elevators that rose and descended with no help from winches or cables. Thorvald's and Tola's residence was located on ground level, and opened up into a bustling marketplace. Like a human one, the market was filled with stalls and shops offering everything from food to arms with the only exception being the material they were made from and the people who purchased them. Stopping by a food cart, Thorvald purchased a bag of ,what looked like, dark blue plums covered in swirls of frost.
[You eat it like this, Jon.] Alrik explained, peeling back the skin and popping a light blue wedge into his mouth.
Jon did the same for his fruite, and nearly swooned after taking a bite.
[Wh-what is this?] He asked in awe.
[Glacier berry.] Thorvald answered, steadying him on his feet. [I didn't know you would find it this sweet.]
To say the berry was sweet would be like calling a thunderstorm a sunshower!
[Where do you grow them?] Jon inquired, popping another wedge into his mouth.
[In a cavern a mile from this one.] Tola answered.
Jon frowned. [They don't need sunlight?]
[They don't require as much sunlight as the human crops do.] Thorvald corrected, pointing up at the crystal. [The light diamonds are part of a chain that reflects sunlight from the surface down to the city, and we have bred our crops to thrive on that supply. We even have plants that need only a cup of water to grow, although they taste is pretty bland.]
[Better than nothing.] Jon mused, starting on a second glacier berry as they entered a lift.
[The Council hall, please.] Tola requested.
The elevator attendant nodded and placed his hand on the wall, the cage rising as blue light pulsed out of his hand. Jon's question was stopped when he noticed a large group of skeletal Skrothians assembling in a raised courtyard.
[Why do those Skrothians look different from you?]
[Because they have decided to be Shepherds.] Thorvald sighed. [The magic used to create and control wights is one that takes a great toll on the users so it is usually criminals, or those who have brought shame to their family, who become Shepherds as opposed to being executed or banished.]
[So they are the Skrothian version of the Night's Watch?]
Tola nodded. [However instead of swearing away the warmth of a mate, or the joy of children, the Shepherds give up their free will, and exist only to obey the will of those who command them.]
A shiver went up Jon's spine that had nothing to do with the cold. After rising the length of five broken towers, the elevator stopped on the end of a bridge that led to a castle consisting of jagged shards of ice. The castle had no walls or gates, but the steps leading up to the front door was blocked by an angry crowd of Skrothians.
[What are you doing, Glenre?] Thorvald scowled.
[Stoping you from disgracing our race further by bringing that boy before the council!] The leader said, jabbing a finger at Jon. [He is unworthy to even stand in this courtyard!]
The words brought back an old pain that burned like fire in Jon's heart.
[How dare you speak in such a way, Glenre!] Tola barked. [Two of your five children were begotten from the transformation, and your eldest son married such a woman mere days ago!]
[My kin are full blooded Skrothians.] Glenre growled. [That abomination still has fire in his blood, and should either be sent away or killed!]
When the crowd cheered in agreement, Thorvald pulled out his sword.
[That "abomination" is now my son,] He snarled, leveling his crystal blade at the man. [And I will gut you where you stand if you even try to touch him!]
Before Glenre could draw his own blade they were stopped by a booming: [Enough!]
At the top of the steps stood Vethorn, looking like a king or malevolent god.
[Come boy,] He ordered, crooking a finger at Jon. [The rest of the Council has been waiting for you since your transformation.]
Jon was suddenly assaulted by nerves, and he glanced up at Thorvald.
[You will be fine, Jon.] He promised. [You of our people now, and the Council shall not harm you.]
Glenre scoffed, but shrunk when Vethorn shot him a pointed glare. Nodding, Jon took a deep breath and walked up the steps, the Skrothians parting in his wake.
"You have to try." He reminded himself, as he stepped through the doorway . "For the sake of those you care about north and south of the Wall."