I do not own Game of Thrones
Long before men roamed the earth, the Gods roamed free across the land, choosing where they would lay claim. If Man should happen upon their land and offer them tribute, then the Gods would lay claim to them as their followers.
Gods, whether people know it or not, can live and die. Their lives depend on the people who still believe in them, who still whisper their name, who still pray to them.
There are some who are born and die as quickly as a fading star and then there are those who have been around since the beginning of time, their hold on the land so strong that even in death they are reborn.
There are people who believe that the Gods walk among them, that sometimes they allow themselves to be born into human bodies so that they might walk among their people.
When children are still small enough to be carried within their Mother's arms, they are told a tale of a time long since past. They are told the story of a boy and of a girl, and how they belonged together. They speak of how the boy knew of the girl's arrival long before she had even been conceived, of how her name fell from his lips long before she was even a thought, and of how he would whisper to her while she still lay within her mother's womb of a life they had once lived together long ago.
They say the old Gods have been together since the beginning of time, but it was Man who would tear them apart.
Once, the land of the North was a glories realm, filled with life and growth, but long since passed are those days and the people have forgotten that it was not always a wintery land they lived upon. They say the Old Gods are two beings born together as one. That they are life and death, good and evil, winter and summer.
Many believe the weirwood trees to be a mirror of their image. They are thought to be fair of skin, with hair as red as the setting sun and that the heart trees were craved so that the Gods might gaze upon them while the people were at prayer.
Jon hadn't believed in the Gods, not truly, but coming back from the dead can change a person.
"Tell me," Jon began, gazing out at the wide-open stretch of snow-covered land while both Tormund and himself stood alone atop the wall. "What do you know of the Old Gods?"
Tormund grumbled deep in the back of his throat, the sound becoming slightly lost to the wind that whistled around them.
"The Free folk believe that in the beginning, there were two. Two souls intertwined as one. A man and a woman, a husband and a wife, a brother, and a sister. King and Queen." Jon listened carefully to the words the free folk man spoke, how the words were chosen carefully as if one word wrong might bring their wrath down upon them. "When I was still a boy, the elder woman once told me a story about the Gods. Of how a great crime was committed against them while they walked among us in human form."
Jon, curious about the crime, waited silently for Tormund to continue.
"They say that she was stolen away and that they bound her in human bones so that they might have control of her, but they forgot him. Some of the free folk believe him to now be the Night King, still seeking his love who was taken so long ago, others, other's believe him to be the monster the Gods sent to punish them for a crime commits eons ago."
"What did she look like?"
Tormund's laugh was taunting, his eyes holding something sinister within them.
"They say they both were touched by fire, but that she was the most beautiful woman to have ever walked the land, and that all men who gazed upon her beauty became entrapped, but you see she was already in love." The wind which had been a whistle had turned into a mournful howl. "She had freely given him her heart so long ago, that to tear them apart meant not only were they torn apart from each other, but she was torn apart from the very world they were so connected too."
"I saw something," Jon said, pausing as he allowed his hand to run over the wolf head of his sword. "In the dark, cold abyss, a hand reached out to me. It pulled me back."
"Something brought you back, Snow," Tormund said, his eyes meeting Jon's. "Wheather it was the witches God or the Olds one's, it matters not, because you were brought back for a reason." Seeing that Jon was not satisfied with his words, he carried on. "I don't have the answers you so obviously seek, but the Gods do, ask them." He said and decided it was best to leave Jon Snow alone with his thoughts, for Tormund could not give him what he sought.
Alone, Jon turned his gaze back out to the wide open white land that stretched out further then the eye could see. This land belonged to the Old Gods and though the Red woman claimed it to be her God which brought him back, he couldn't help but see a red tear stained face, a face which belonged to the tree which stood in the Gods wood of Winterfell.
It was then that he knew, that the answers he sought could only be found in the ancient castle, and he knew it was time to return home.
"Will you stay with me?" She couldn't help but ask, unable to tear her gaze from the body that lay before them.
Entwining their hands, he answered her as he always did. "Forever."
Winterfell was once the most magnificent castle in the North, but now ash lingered on the walls from when the iron born had burned it down, skins of what were once loyal Stark men and women still lingered across the castle, and yet, the gods wood remained untouched, as if the hand of God had reached out to stay the flames before they could travel across the archways that lead into the woods.
The Boltens hadn't touched it, and the Iron Born who were said to despise the other Gods hadn't dared to touch it either. The further he ventured inside what had once been his families childhood playing ground, the more he felt like there were eyes watching him, following him along the familiar pathway that led to the hot springs and more importantly, the Gods tree.
Eyes dripping blood-red sap seemed to stare at him from an impossible angle. The wind which had howled outside the forest seemed almost nonexistent now that he stood before the Gods. The moonlight casts the snow porcelain white and gave light to what should have been darkness.
Kneeling, he placed his hand on the tree bark.
"I come before you as a man of the North, a man who has always followed the teachings of the Old Gods," his eyes closed, his mind conjuring up the image of the being who had pulled him from the abyss. "I seek an answer to a question I know only you can answer."
"You seek answers," the voice startled Jon, causing instinct to take over and without his know-how, he found himself leveling his blade with a pale neck.
A cruel smirk graced a pair of out of proportion lips, the top lip is too thin, while the bottom lip was overly large. The face of the woman was hard but clean, and freshly washed hair hung unevenly around her face.
"You'd best remove that blade, boy. We wouldn't want you to die before you could give us answers." She spoke as if it were her blade being held at Jon's neck and not the other way around.
Her speech was that of the North beyond the wall, but Jon could not understand why she would threaten him if she had been one of the spear wives to take part in the battle.
"Us?" He asked, eyes trying to see who else lurked within the dark. At first, he came across nothing, but then from within the darkness, the crunch of snow alerted him to the glowing eyes watching from mere feet away. The silhouette of a large wolf, blacker then coal prowled forward, its build larger then Ghost, but definitely a direwolf. Its eyes, a startling green now that it stood within the view of the moonlight are familiar as is the figure that sits upon its back.
Grown and with hair wilder than before, Rickon sits upon the back of what had once been the pup Jon had last seen him with when he had left Winterfell to join the Nights Watch so long ago.
"Rickon!" It's said as almost a plea because he has lost too much for this not to be real.
"You look like my Father," Jon can tell he's confused, so he takes the blade from the free folk women's neck and takes a single step in Rickons direction, only to have a blade pressed to his neck by the very women he'd just released.
"You'll not take another step." She warned.
Jon gave her a quick glance. "Rickon, "He carried on as if the blade wasn't there. "God, you were so small the last time I saw you, but you've grown, your almost a man." He couldn't help but smile as the moon cast its glow upon him, allowing Jon to finally see him in full. "I thought you were dead."
"Who are you?" The woman hissed.
"Your Jon," Rickon eventually spoke, his brows tugged down as if doubtful if he was right or not.
"That's right, I am." Jon couldn't help but smile, he had worried that maybe Rickon was to young the last time they saw each other to remember him.
"She told me about you," Rickon said, shifting to climb down from Shaggydogs back, the snow crunching noisily underneath his boots. "She said you would return."
The blade finally lifted from his neck and the woman peered at him with slightly less suspicious eyes.
"You've been keeping things from me," she said, stepping away from Jon yet still keeping himself within her sights.
Rickon was silent as he made a hand gesture to Shaggydog who retreated back in the darkness, melting seamlessly into the shadows until his hulking form disappeared altogether.
"She?" Jon asked looking to the free folk woman.
"The one within the tree," Rickon answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"She came to him in his sleep, told him that it was time to return." The woman said, her gaze fixating on the Gods Tree. "I know enough from the other little Lords dreams to know when we should follow the dreams heed."
"Bran said she would call us home, that I was to wait until she came to me."
"Bran! Do you know where he is? Why did you separate?" Jon was desperate to know of his other brother's whereabouts.
Rickon looked uncertain, but the woman nodded for him to carry on. "She wants him to find where they took him, find the one who stole him away. There's someone waiting for him there, someone that he needs to find." He spoke as if in a trance as if the words were not his own.
"I don't understand, who is she?" Jon asked, looking over his shoulder to the blood dripping eyes that stared out at him, his breathing picking up slightly as the feeling of eyes watching him washed over him.
"Her name was forgotten long ago," Rickon began walking forward until he stood before the tree upon when he turned to face Jon.
Jon turned completely and felt his spine stiffen. A figure slowly slipped from the Gods Tree, the body slowly turning from whitebark into pale skin until a pale naked body appeared, long red hair whipping around it like a cloak as snow lifted to create a simple white shift to cover the naked female body.
"I had many names," the figure slowly raised their bowed head, red hair falling like a curtain to reveal a pale face. "I was Sister, friend, lover, wife, but my beloved brother Robb named me Sansa when first we were together."
Flashes of the darkness came to mind, the pale hand reaching out, the red hair flowing like silk thread, this wasn't a woman stood before him, this was a God.
"Humans like to believe that they know history quite well, but they're wrong. A human who lives mere years compared to the life a God can live, cannot pass on history very well. Time changes their view of the events which happened and each time it passed down to another the events once again continued to change until the truth became a mixture of lies.
I do not remember much of my birth, only that upon opening my eyes he was there, my brother that is, and from then on I knew we would never part.
Mortal beings came into our lives and left just as fleetingly as the seasons. We had but each other as a constant.
I fell in love but once in my immortal life. He was a mere man, nothing outstanding, but he was kind, and brave and held a sweetness that I could not overlook. It had been painful for me to see him die so quickly, mortal lives flickering out of existence like a candle, while my own may very well last forever.
With such fleeting lives, I would have been lonely without my brother by my side.
My brother, the immortal king, and I, his Queen."
Jon brought a hand up to his head, a flicker of the red-haired figure becoming clearer in his mind. "I don't understand?"
The free folk woman looked uneasily between Sansa and Jon, moving slowly to Rickon's side.
"I know you?" Jon questioned, trying to clear the images from his mind.
Sansa smiled, a tilting of the lips really, but Jon felt as if he'd seen such an expression cross her lips a thousand times.
"You do, or you did,"
Frowning, Jon straightened and tried to will away a headache that had suddenly come from nowhere. "I don't understand what you mean, your not making any sense."
"You never did have a mind for tactics," Sansa said, her eyes roaming over Jon being. "You've not changed at all really, your eyes are still," She paused, head tilting as if trying to find the right word. "So sorrowful."
"Sansa, do you know Jon?" Rickon's innocent voiced questioned and Jon hadn't even noticed that his younger brother had moved to pull at the sleeve of Sansa's shift.
"I did, once, but perhaps he is no longer the man I remember," Sansa said without taking her eyes from Jon, leaving him that much more confused.
Her words were riddles which he could not untangle, her gaze a snare in which he could not escape, her beauty entrapping, his breath struggling to leave his chest.
Another flicker in his mind, this time there was no darkness, this time there was only light, bright sunlight and a field of golden grass that swayed with the wind. Again, he could see the image of the red-haired figure with their back to him, a hand reached out, his hand, but he was too far away and the figure did not turn.
Teeth clenching, he fell to his knees, one hand on the ground keeping him up, the other cupping his head which felt like it would explode.
"Perhaps you should find someone to bring him back inside," Her voice was fading in his ears, as his arm gave way beneath him, and he found himself curling in on himself in the snow.
Forcing his eyes open before the blackness took over his mind, he caught sight of her again, Sansa. She was watching him, eyes empty of emotions and only one thought crossed his mind before he blacked out.
"Why? Why are you alone?"
She had been in a dream sleep, listening to the prayers of their people, watching over them through the many eyes of the Gods trees that were spread across the land, when she felt the bond which linked them together snap.
Like a mighty crash of thunder, she jolted from her resting place to find Robb gone. Without warning or cause, pain exploded in her chest, bringing her crashing down to the ground. Blood poured from her mouth and eyes, like life itself was trying to flee her body and then cold, coldness unlike she had ever known spread across her skin, stealing with it the warmth of summer, covering the grass in a frosty coating of ice.
The blood spilled would later be found by a mortal family who would tell a tale which was false. They would speak of how the queen was stolen from beneath her sacred tree where she lay sleeping, and that the King in a rage had torn his heart from his chest, refusing to live without her. If only they knew the truth.
"I swore an oath," they are the words that come spilling from his lips as he searches for her in the woods. He had awoken with memories of a life long ago, of a woman with whom he had made a vow to love always.
There is not but stillness in the woods, not even the howling wind which had echoed through the castle can reach this place. She's here, he knows it within his soul that she watches, yet she hides from him, like his love for her had not once, so long ago, thawed her cold exterior.
"I made a vow!"
"So you remember," her voice is soft as she slips from the woods, her appearance has not changed, her eyes as still hauntingly beautiful, her skin still pale and soft, her hair seems brighter then he remembers, but Gods did he miss her while they were parted.
"I swore,"
"I know the vow you made," she cuts him off softly, and he notices the sadness that now lingers in her eyes where once there was a burning brightness. "I would release you from your vow, if only so that you wouldn't suffer like I know you will, but I have need of you and your sword, my love."
He'd discovered long ago how to break down her walls, but somehow this was different. "I can understand why you'd be here, but why are you alone? Where is Robb?" There's a sickening feeling clawing at his chest. "Why did my brother share his face?"
"It wasn't him." Sansa's answer is guarded like she doesn't want him to understand the truth. "They shared a remarkable resemblance, but they were not one and the same. The boy you called brother, who called himself King. He could never be my brother, and he was never my King."
There's so much Jon doesn't know, so much that has still not become clear. His memories are merging together. He is not only the man who had fallen in love with her and lived his life so long ago, he is Jon Snow now too. He has new memories, his body altered and yet the same.
"Sansa, where's Robb?"
"They took him," she utters broken. "They took him from me, and I wasn't capable of saving him." She turns away in shame.
"You brought me back for reason, why?"
"You once swore a vow to me," her voice has taken on a more serious tone. "Before I had your heart, I had your sword. I have need of that blade once more."
At once he is kneeling before her. "I swore an oath, that time nor distance could break."
She is there then, before him, and he hears it, the sound of steel being unsheathed.
"I have kept it with me, close to my heart as you had asked, but you should have it back, for it won't be long until you shall have need of it again."
She had gifted him this blade long ago, a blade that gleamed brightly, for it had been brought to life using the golden blood of the Goddess before him.
No mortal should wield such weaponry, should hold such authority, for this blade could slay a God.