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Game of Thrones is owned by George R.R. Martin
Destiny is owned by Bungie
"Never expect anything, Guardian, 'cept a whoooole lotta things that wanna shoot you… or eat you… or steal your Light… or… well, you get the point."- Cayde-6 on pre-mission preparations.
It was a good week for Jeb the bandit, all things considered. He and his crew had managed to set up a 'toll road', and they were making a decent haul. Food, coin, hell, they even got a few good fucks out of it! Of course, all good things must come to an end. Today would be their last haul, since they wanted to stay ahead of any guards. Still, with how well this went, maybe they should try further South…
"Hey boss! Look at this mummer!"
Jeb walked out of his typical spot behind a tree, and almost laughed. The man had a helmet that looked like a gold bird beak and a wolf head on top. His only armor was a chestpiece and a few bits here and there. He had two knives on his belt and right arm, and a hilt peeking over his shoulder. The golden wolf head on the chestpiece made Jeb snort.
"Look at that, boys! The honorable Lord Stark sent someone to greet us!"
The four men behind laughed. They'd handle him the same as everyone else. Jeb and four others would distract their target while eight others would get around them. Even a knight wouldn't-
"Huh. Bandits. How quaint… "
'…Is that a floating eye?'
'Shit shit shit! He fucking pulled lightning from the sky! Oh gods oh gods oh gods-'
When the eye had appeared, his men rushed the stranger, wanting nothing to do with whatever magic or trick he was using. As soon as five men got to him, lightning coated him, and they turned to ash. Jeb ran as soon as he saw this, hoping to get to their camp and get the other 20 men he had. He knew they'd probably die, but it would still buy him some time to get away. What he saw when he got there made his heart nearly burst. Long scorch marks were all over the camp, all his men missing.
Jeb began backing away, 'No, he couldn't have gotten here before me! He, he musta-' Jeb backed into something. He pulled a knife and turned, staring into two golden eyes…
Most men would call Rickard Stark honorable, though stoic, cold even, much like the lands he ruled. He was a man who believed that you should look another in the eye when you pass judgement or executed them. It was why he rode with his men to deal with some bandits that had taken up residence near one of the roads. However, even the most stoic and brave people had a breaking point.
A floating, green-spiked eye was that point.
"Oh! Hello, you must be Lord Stark!"
The talking didn't help.
"Aye, I am Lord Stark, who, what are you?" His men shifted on their horses, trying to find anyone who could be making the eye talk.
"I'm Ghost. Well, I'm a Ghost. My Guardian told me to wait for someone to come by and ask them to send a message to you. I'll let him know you've come and to bring the bandit leader."
Lord Stark's brow rose as his men began whispering of magic, "A… ghost? You do not look like any ghost I've heard of. Who are you the ghost of, and what of this guardian?"
"I'm not that kind of ghost. It's just what I'm called," seeing there confused looks it continued, "I'm an advanced machine, like a catapult but millions of times more advanced."
A twig breaking brought their attention to a stranger coming out of the forest. He held a rope that was binding a rough looking man behind him. The man looked at the Stark men in fear, but the gag prevented him from making any noise besides frantic grunts. Rickard motioned one of his men to secure the man to his saddle, then looked to the eye and stranger. "You will come with us to Winterfell." His tone left no room for argument, and the stranger merely nodded. Before he could call for one of his men to take the stranger, there was a flash and the stranger was seated on a floating piece of metal.
The eye gave an almost cheeky sounding "Ready to go?"
It was an odd procession that arrived at Winterfell. Lord Stark's men were all whispering to each other, while the Lord himself looked troubled. A stranger rode with them, and when he dismounted, his mount disappeared in a flash of light and a floating eye appeared. As some of the men dragged a bound man to the dungeons, Lord Stark hailed a servant and ordered them to send his wife and Maester Walys to his solar, before nodding to the stranger and heading inside with the eye. The stranger took a look around the courtyard before sitting on a nearby stump, legs crossed into one another.
He drew a strange sword from his back. It had several slanted holes near the top, a large blue crystal embedded above the guard. What really drew attention was the lightning that would sometimes dance across it. The stranger seemed unworried about this, and laid the blade across his knees, one hand loosely on the hilt and the other on the blade. A few guardsmen looked him over.
"He don't look so tough, Garret."
"He's a fuckin' witch, Willem, I'm tellin' ya!"
"So he's gotta fancy sword, big fucking deal. I'm more pissed that he's gettin' a reward. We kill a few bandits and we don't get shit! He just walks on in and it's almost a fucking feast!"
"…Maybe he owes us for stealin' our glory. That gem on his sword will do good for 'compensation', eh lads?"
"Listen Lud, you and Willem wanna die go ahead, but I'm staying here!"
"Fine! C'mon Willem, let's go get what's ours."
Everyone stopped to stare as two guards walked up to the stranger. They stopped a few steps from the stranger.
"So you're the mummer that's got everyone thinkin' you took down those bandits? You don't look so tough, eh Willem?"
"He's a fucking twig, probably scared that bastard we dragged in to thinkin' he was tough!"
"Way I see it, you owe us. I say that pretty blue gem'll do nicely."
WHOOSH
Everyone had blinked, and the stranger's boots were planted in each of the two men's crotches. The stranger slowly returned to his cross-legged position. The two guards were still for a moment, before one passed out, the other vomiting before doing the same. Ser Rodrik Cassel, Master-at-Arms for Winterfell, shouted for the two to be carted off to the maester. He gave a long look to the stranger before giving a small nod. He had a feeling the stranger's lax posture was just a front, years of experience giving him a hint of the coiled serpent underneath…
"…And that's our story." The eye- Ghost, Lord Stark reminded himself, finished describing how he and the Guardian had arrived in their world. The Vex, a race of metal beings that lived within the gaps of time, tried to take control of the powers of the Hive, a race who wielded dark magics that could tear apart reality. The Guardian had a shard of the blade of the Hive's king, Oryx, which had been forged into his own sword, Bolt-Caster. The Vex intended to use this shard to control Oryx's power for their plans. When they arrived aboard Oryx's ship, the Vex had attempted to trap them in one of their portals, but the sword started to glow, and next thing they knew they were here.
His wife, Lyarra, and Maester Walys were just as stunned as Lord Stark. The world Ghost described sounded like a mummer's tale. Bountiful food and pure water, heat in homes at any time, even travel through the sky and above! But near constant warfare, the wounding of what many to believe to be their God, and being reduced to one city when they used to have planets…
Lord Stark sighed. From what he knew, the pair had spent most of their… lives fighting for humanity. Without this Darkness to battle, that left one question: "What will you do now? There is no Darkness here, no enemies as you described…" He prayed they did not intend harm, he wasn't sure the armies of this world combined could even slow them.
Ghost blinked once, twice, before speaking slowly, "…Lord Stark, the Darkness is here. Isn't that why you built the Wall? To keep out the Darkness north of here?"
Lord Stark was about to respond when a dark pit settled into his stomach. He began remembering stories from his childhood of the Long Night, of the winter that lasted a generation, of the dead rising to serve demons of ice and death…
"White Walkers…" he heard Lyarra breathe out beside him.
Lord Stark quickly explained to Ghost, who merely responded with, "That definitely sounds like the Darkness…"
A tense silence passed over the group, eventually broken when Walys asked, "My Lord, with no offense to your guest, how can we be certain this is true? White Walkers haven't been seen in thousands of years, if they even existed, and while his technology is certainly impressive, we only have the word of this, this thing about whom they are and where they come from…"
"I'm a Ghost. I'm pretty sure I explained this."
"Whatever you are," the maester ground out, "the fact remains that you have no real evidence to back up your claims."
Rickard decided to speak up, "Maester Walys has a point, Ghost. As impressive as what you've shown has been, I cannot just rally the North's forces over your word alone."
"I'm not asking you to do anything, Lord Stark. Your people faced extinction against a force bound to your planet's pole and beat them back with fire, steel, and magic. Considering what we fought against daily, dealing with the White Walkers when they appear will be a cakewalk." One could feel the smug smile as Ghost finished.
A servant knocked and opened the door before anything else could be said, "Er, I'm sorry milord, milady, but there's a problem and we need the maester…"
The Guardian sat upon his stump, now surrounded by groaning or unconscious men. Several of the guards had tried to fight him as he sat there, either to avenge their comrades or to prove their skill. Ser Rodrik decided it would be a learning experience for the men about the difference between overconfidence and skill. He was also intrigued by how the Guardian fought, if what he did could be called fighting. The Guardian never seemed to truly move off the stump, always having one of his hands, feet, or even his upper back on it (human necks were not supposed bend at that angle!), looking as though he was performing a strange dance. He never once used his blades, only lashing out with his limbs or using the men's momentum toss them into one another.
Personally, it warmed his heart a little to see the men be reminded about underestimating opponents.
"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!?"
Lord Stark was considerably less warmed by it.
"A few men decided to see if our guest was as tough as the rumors say," Rodrik looked around at the men on the ground, "I say the evidence speaks for itself, milord."
Lord Stark shook his head and sighed, "Right, bring them to barracks and put them on kennel duty for a week," he turned to the Guardian, "I apologize for my men. Rest assured I will try and make sure this does not happen again. For now, I have a few questions for you." The Guardian nodded, and they walked towards the guest house.
Lyanna watched the man walk away with her father. She had slipped away from her tutor and saw the man fight off the guards. She quickly rushed through the castle and out into the courtyard. She carefully followed them, everyone either not seeing her or choosing to ignore her. They eventually reached the guest house, and Lyanna swore when they entered. She made sure no one was looking and slipped up to the door, placing her ear against it to listen in.
Or at least that was the plan.
The door opened and she fell in, the stranger and her father looking down at her.
"Lyanna…" Rickard took on a stern tone, "You're supposed to be with your tutor."
"But it's so boring! And I wanted to meet the knight!"
"I am no knight, little one." The stranger spoke, and Lyanna and her father snapped to the man.
"Then, what are you?" Lyanna stood up as the man shrugged.
"A Hunter. A Guardian. And countless other things, depending on who you ask." The man said softly.
"Oh… What's your name?"
"Devon."
"Where-"
"Alright, that's enough Lyanna. Head back to your tutor." Rickard cut in.
"But I-"
"Now, Lyanna." The girl grumbled, but did as her father asked. He turned back to his guests, "You said you had a ship, correct? Will we need to haul it here?"
"I got it." Ghost replied, and after a moment of silence a strange roar was heard. Something that was shaped reminiscent of a blue prong flew in above the walls and hovered in the courtyard before lowering itself to the ground. Everyone had stunned looks on their faces, the guards holding their weapons in shaking grips. Rickard looked at the duo, one of whom shrugged.
"We did say it could fly, Lord Stark." Ghost reminded him.