Lord Commander Kozmotis Pitchiner stands on the front line, the ragtag army of the Night's Watch at his back. Some amongst the ranks are warriors, knights and lords; others are whores, thieves and cut-throats. To a man, they stand behind Pitch, swords drawn and ready for battle. Those who would have fled are gone already. These are the men that make up the realm's last stand.
The battle begins. The undead make the first move, an army with blue eyes and black hands and half their faces torn off by wolves, or slashed by swords. Theirs is a silent attack, but the response of the Night's Watch is anything but.
"For the Watch! For the realm!" cries Pitch, and the Night's Watch answers, loud and fierce, courage in each breath.
And so the battle begins. It seems hopeless - so few black brothers against the horde of undead – but Pitch is proud of them. This might be their last stand but they'll damn well do their best.
The fighting goes on for hours. His own men fall but Pitch cannot hesitate; the time to grieve will come later.
His sword is black with blood, but when he turns around there is a White Walker behind him, watching. Pitch freezes. He never thought the White Walkers would be so beautiful. Frost-white hair, piercing blue eyes and pale, pale skin.
"Join me," says the White Walker and puts a hand around Pitch's throat. Pitch feels the breath freeze in his lungs, feels the goodness wrenched out of him like the Other had ripped out his heart.
When the White Walker's dark magic is complete, Pitch is a shadow of his former self. Not mindless like the horde, but just as changed, become dark and cruel. All that is left of the lord commander of the Night's Watch is fear and hatred; and desire for and loyalty to his White Walker.
(A/N: I am beyond honoured that KS Claw has created a STUNNING comic of this story! Please please please go here and show some love 3 3 3)
