Hello ladies and gentlemen, and welcome back to another of my crazy ideas lol. Before anyone asks, yes I plan to continue my other tale, I just need to get inspired for it again is all. In the meantime, I thought I'd try something a little less complicated lol. In all seriousness, I've noticed a disturbing lack of Young Justice crossovers not just here, but also on in regards to GoT, and personally I think it'd be a pretty good mixture myself. ;D I might not be the best man for the job, but I'll still give it a go.
Chapter 1; Old Game, New Players
Winterfell
Artemis Lian Crock
It was another clear and crisp morning in the Northlands, and while it was colder than she'd have preferred, the fur coat, cloak, boots, gloves, trousers and heavy undershirt she wore was more than enough to keep her warm as she prepared for her morning walk. It hadn't taken her long to adjust to the heavier clothes the Northerners wore, and despite how strange this world was compared to her own, Artemis Lian Crock couldn't help but look to the clear skies above with a measure of contentment she hadn't felt in a very long time.
A stray breeze tugged at her long blonde hair that was still in its customary ponytail, but she paid it no mind as she hopped off of the walkway to the guard barracks and landed lightly on the dirt path below. She had yet to take the stairs going down in the mornings, and the few people that were up right before the sun began to shine over the horizon still jumped a little when they saw the archer's acrobatic ability in play. Almost two years and you'd think they'd get used to seeing that.
On the other hand, two years in Winterfell and Artemis could still find enjoyment in the simple things that surrounded her. City life had been incredibly different from the slower and far more peaceful way of life that dominated this land. People actually paid attention to other people out here in the North and weren't nose deep in their Facebook pages and Twitter accounts. She missed her mother, the friends she had made on the team, and she especially missed Wally, but the Starks had filled in some of the void since they had taken her in.
She had never been a religious woman, especially after losing Wally, but something about walking through the Godwoods near the main castle grounds of Winterfell made Artemis stop and pause. The faces in the trees themselves never ceased to amaze her, regardless if someone had taken the time to carve them out of the trees or if they were a naturally occurring phenomenon. She had never asked anyway, preferring the mystery than the simple truth of how the faces were made. Whatever the case, they were an interesting sight to her as she ran a fur lined gloved hand over the pale white wood, aware of the company she had as she turned her head and smiled at the Lord of Winterfell, Eddard Stark. "I didn't expect to see you out here Lord Stark."
It was their normal routine. Every morning before sunrise, just as they had today, Artemis would wander out to the Godswood as she had since getting settled in at Winterfell and walked through the small forest located not far from the castle walls. Eventually, the entire Stark family knew of her habit and despite her insistence that she didn't want company, Eddard, Robb, Catelyn, Jon, Arya, or on occasion Brandon or the Seven forbid, Sansa, would join her. Today it was Eddard, and despite his usually stern demeanor, she knew of the honorable and steadfast man underneath and respected him a great deal. He was slightly amused by her greeting today, which meant that he most likely had warmed Catelyn's side of the bed the night before. It made Artemis wistful for her lost love, but she pushed those feelings aside. "I had hoped to talk to you Artemis."
She had a feeling she knew what he wanted to talk about. "Hey, talk to Greyjoy, he's the one that couldn't keep his hands away. Be glad I only broke his nose." Eddard sighed and shook his head at the passionate if combative blonde archer before him. The smile never faltered though, having seen the tail end of that particular exchange. It wasn't a new story with her, and any man that tried to do anything foolish as Theon Greyjoy had wound up in the dirt with his nose gushing blood. There had been at least five other occasions of such, and all because Artemis Lian Crock was a woman, yet she was able to fight better than most of the guards put together.
There were female knights and warriors, but they were far from Winterfell and the main kingdoms around King's Landing, and thus, unheard of in most of Westeros. It was a constant fight for approval among her male peers, but Artemis had managed not to kill anyone under the Stark roof, so far. "Iron blood he has and iron blooded he'll remain I fear. Still, I think he finally got the point that you're off limits. That was not what I wanted to talk about however. When we first met, and we had to earn the other's trust, do you remember?" Artemis remembered all too well. It was the night back in her home dimension that her life, and the rest of the team's lives had been turned upside down by one overzealous Lord of Chaos.
It had been two years since Klarion the Witch Boy had attacked their new hideout. He had stolen them, quite literally, out of their beds and put them here, in Westeros. In that time, Artemis had not heard anything, not even a whisper, of her old friends' existence in this world, but news traveled slower than a snail's pace. Anything was possible as far as she was concerned though. She might have no idea where she was, but at least there was a chance she might see her old friends again one day. "Yeah I remember Lord Stark, why do you ask?" Artemis finally replied, leaning against the tree she had been running her hand over only a few moments ago. Her long bow and quiver were at her feet, leaning against the far older mighty pale white tree.
"Because I have a feeling I'm going to need people I trust at my side. You protected my family for almost two years, and you're a better marksmen than any I've ever seen. There was a rider from one of the neighboring Lords, a deserter is heading this way." She didn't need to hear more than that as Artemis slung her bow and quiver onto her back. She knew the way the world worked in this dimension. She also knew how Ned always acted with honor and gave respect only when it was due. The fact he was asking her to join him on the ride out to the field showed just how much he respected and trusted her.
"When do we leave?" While she didn't agree with the law of the land, more specifically the King's law, she couldn't change it. Besides, she had no right to protest anyway because of the simple fact the Starks had taken her in with almost no hesitation on their part. Even her old friends had not been so quick to trust her, except perhaps Dick. Catelyn Stark had surprised her especially, at first, but after getting to know the matron, Artemis understood why she had been so quick to trust the stranger. That was for later consideration though.
"We have a few hours yet Artemis. I need to get my family together and have horses prepared for the ride, but as soon as the man is captured, we will ride out and do what must be done." Ned put a hand on her shoulder when he saw the troubled look in the young archer's pale gray eyes. "I know you don't agree with his punishment Artemis; hold onto your compassion as long as you can. It's what truly makes you far stronger and braver than most men I have fought beside."
It was moments like this that she was grateful beyond words to have met Eddard Stark and his family as she offered a strong smile and a nod of her head before pulling her fur cloak closer around her body. "It's your law to execute deserters, and as long as you carry out the sentence to your own laws, it takes some of the sting out of the whole thing. I might not agree with it, but you've proven you're a man of your word more times than I can count Lord Stark. It's probably why I like you so much." It was also no secret, although she had to color some of her past to fit with this world's lack of technology, that her home life had been pretty bad. When your older sister was an assassin, your father was a master thief and career criminal, and your mother was a retired criminal, it was best to stick with the simple facts.
It was therefore no secret that Artemis had taken an instant liking to Eddard Stark and saw him as the father she wished she could have had growing up. To his credit, Stark had almost instantly perceived this and had made a habit of happening by to speak with her when she seemed distant or overly aggressive. It had taken most of the two years she had known them for her to admit anything beyond small snippets about her old life, but when she had, a lot of old questions finally had answers to them.
"Have I ever told you why I enjoy your company Artemis?" She didn't even get to venture a guess as the man continued without pause. "You aren't afraid of anything, or anyone, even me. You tell me your true feelings, not whatever you think I wish to hear. It's refreshing to talk with a person, besides my family, that doesn't feel the need to kiss my arse at every opportunity."
"It's a nice arse, or so I'd wager your wife thinks so." Artemis smirked as she got a rare laugh out of the normally stern but fair ruler beside her as they made their way back to the main castle grounds. "I've always been a straightforward type of person, that's one of the few good things I got from my family."
Before they reached the practice fields, Ned put a hand on Artemis's shoulder again and stopped her. "You're not your family Artemis Lian Crock. And I would have been a fool to judge you by their actions, instead of your own."
"Does that silver tongue work on everyone or just our own personal Crock O Shit?" Judging by the angry look Theon cast the blonde, he was still indignant over his freshly broken nose. "Since you spend so much time with this arrogant little bitch, maybe it's being used for more than talking. Or so the rumors would have us believe."
Her bow was out and knocked before Theon could draw another breath, as an arrow flew over his shoulder and found the practice target's center. Robb and Brandon Stark were impressed, needless to say, while Theon Greyjoy was pale as a ghost from the purposeful miss of his person. Eddard was still mainly focused on the man's insult however. "Good form Artemis. The next time that mouth of yours opens Theon, I might be tempted to let her put one of her arrows in it." Artemis's arrow was quickly joined by another, a display of talent that impressed even the highly gifted blonde archer.
"Maybe she won't have to." Arya Stark glared at Theon before taking a small bow, much to most of the gathered people's amusement. It looked like the young girl had been paying attention to Artemis's lessons after all. It was no secret that the youngest daughter of the Stark family was always underfoot of everyone, sticking her nose where it didn't belong at times. Artemis had merely given into her incessant pleading and, with the head of the Stark household's permission, had been teaching Arya and Brandon the art of the bow. Even the elder Stark boys had taken an interest after a while, and despite Theon's arrogance and belief women didn't belong on the battlefield, he at least took notes whenever Artemis was teaching.
"Thanks Arya Underfoot." Arya blushed at Artemis's pet name for her and the older archer just smiled at her young pupil. "Make sure to lift your strong arm higher next time Lady Stark." Artemis hadn't needed to actually see Arya's form and posture to know what she needed to do to improve her next shot.
"For the hundredth time, call me Arya!" Robb had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing at the indignant look on his sister's face. Catelyn Stark, joined by her husband on the walkway that was part of the inner wall, only smiled and shook her head at the antics of the blonde archer and her youngest daughter.
"That girl is tempting fate as always I see." Ned only chuckled and shrugged at his wife's comment since it was true. "And you do nothing to stop them, as always." There was only amusement on the woman's face, especially after she felt her husband's arm fall across her shoulders.
"Whatever you say...Lady Stark." Artemis only added to the fire by giving the irritated girl a small bow of respect of her own. She merely stepped to the side when Arya charged her, a giant smile on her face, and tripped the young Stark girl as she passed. Holding her hand out to the now dirt smeared girl, Artemis helped Arya to her feet even as she tried to wave her away. "Mind your feet there Arya Underfoot, maybe you should pay more attention to Bran?"
"Ah Arty, mother never likes me climbing around, you know that." The young Stark belatedly realized what he had just said in front of his mother. "Not that I ever climb on things." Artemis had purposely lead the young Stark into that verbal trap, and now he was in over his head and he knew it.
It only took a moment for Catelyn to join them on the field and bend down so she was eye to eye with her young son. "Oh I'm afraid your confession has already sealed your fate Bran." Catelyn said with a wry smirk as she ruffed the guilty looking boy's hair. "Don't do it again, or Artemis will be shooting apples off your head to entertain us."
"Really?! Can she? That would be amazing!" The Stark matriarch just rolled her eyes at her overjoyed son and shook her head in amused irritation. It took every ounce of willpower the archer had not to laugh at the exuberant look on Bran's face as Artemis met Catelyn's gaze.
A hint of a smile graced the archer's lips. "Don't worry, I hate to waste good fruit Lady Stark. Especially apples." There was a personal reason for that, but it barely flickered across Artemis's mind as she turned her gaze just in time to catch sight of the literal bastard of the family.
"It's about the only thing that grows out here in the North." Jon Snow said, a small smirk on his face as he passed by to talk with the castle's blacksmith.
"I've noticed...I'd kill for a decent kiwi." Artemis suddenly tensed up at the curious looks the other family members gave her. "It's a fruit from home." She rubbed the back of her head in mild embarrassment, a red tint coloring her cheeks that had nothing to do with the cold.
Robb Stark was the first to pick up on her mild discomfort, and quickly decided to cheer her up. "No need to be bashful Artemis, you're much better at bashing. Maybe today is the day I finally best you in a match?"
"If she doesn't cheat." Theon muttered under his breath, but luckily Artemis didn't hear him as she pulled the castle forged sword from the sheath on her back and smirked at the eldest of the Stark boys.
As the steel glinted in the sunlight, her wolfish smile sent a pleasant tingle down Robb's spine. "Well, shall we find out if you're man enough Robb? Or you could just concede now and save me the time of putting you in the dirt."
"Do you always talk this much before you lose?" Robb smirked as he raised his own sword. For the purpose of their practice fight, they knew only to use the flat of their swords so as not to dull the razor sharp edge of the blades themselves. "Well, come on then, are you going to attack or just stand there looking stunning as usual?"
Everyone wisely took several steps back to give the two the room they'd need, as Artemis hung her cloak on the fence by the archery field. Her smirk only grew wider as she took her stance before charging forward. Training with heroes of all sorts back home had honed her body to the peak of physical condition. She had never trained in heavy armor like Robb Stark however, so what he lacked in speed he made up for in stamina and endurance. As Artemis charged towards the confident swordsman, he prepared himself for any of the various tricks she always employed.
Today she had a new one planned however. Just as he was about to meet her head on, she slid on her right side, less than an inch away from the edge of his sword, making Robb hesitate just long enough to allow her to get her sword's point lined up with his groin. At first, he was amused and simply thought she had tripped, then he looked down at her true target. There was no way he could get out of the cleverly implemented maneuver without losing his 'sword'. Sighing, the elder Stark sibling saluted her with his blade, ending the match. "I yield Artemis."
"A little lesson for you to remember Robb, never trust me to fight fairly." She could fight with honor if she wanted, but in her experience, honorable men tended to become dead men. That was the only fear she had for Eddard Stark, that his honor would stop him from making a decision that could very well save his life later. "Thanks for the match, you lasted a few seconds longer this time." Artemis quickly got to her feet and gave the already mortified man a playful tap on the ass with her sword as she walked by.
Their fun and merriment came to an end however when the messenger that Eddard knew would come when rumor reached him of the deserter finally appeared. "My Lord and Lady! They have captured the deserter, a man of the Night's Watch as we thought."
"Robb, Theon, Jon, Bran. Get ready to leave." He didn't have to look at Artemis or Catelyn to know neither approved of his order to take Bran with them to see a public execution, but Artemis at least agreed with him on some level. Brandon wouldn't be a child forever, and winter was coming.
King's Landing
Zatanna Zatara, and Megan Morse.
Today was a bad day to be in King's Landing. Lord Hand Jon Arryn, husband to Lysa Arryn, Defender of the Vale, Warden of the East, and the Lord of the Eyrie was dead.
"How can you stand listening to Tyrion's thoughts all day I'll never know M'gann." They were on the other side of the main hall where the latest King's Hand was laid out on a stone slab, unaware of Cersei and Jamie's presence not thirty paces away. It didn't come as a surprise to either of them that the King's Hand had been poisoned, but because of their very tenuous situation they weren't in a position to deal out justice to his killer. They were in a city full of vipers; everyone was out to improve their own standing, and alliances had a tendency to shift and change at the drop of a hat. Hat tricks might have been Zatanna's specialty back home, but here, it took every shred of her training to stay ahead of the dozens of schemes that threatened their new lives in this new world.
If not for their unusual relationship with Tyrion Lannister, the Imp as he was called behind his back, they might not have done nearly so well as they had. When Klarion's spell had been cast, they had wound up falling on his balcony to his private quarters in the capital of Westeros. And the rest was history, as they say.
"I would rather listen to the lewd thoughts that pass through his mind then the web of lies and deceit that coats this city like dust, Zatanna. I thought Gotham was corrupt, but King's Landing? We can't prove that the Hand was poisoned, let alone who ordered it done, for fear of having our heads removed and put on spikes over the gates." Megan sighed as she looked down at Jon Arryn's corpse as the priestesses made one final pass over his body with their incense bowls and banners before departing the hall. All the proof they needed of how far the city was from being saved from its own corruption was laid out on display.
Then there was the more physical proof that their stay in the corrupt city had changed both women quite a bit. Playing the part of Tyrion's 'guards', and supposed whores, had required a drastic wardrobe change for Zatanna at least. M'gann and her bio clothes allowed her to change her entire outer appearance with a thought, but she still kept a chest full of clothes to keep up appearances.
Matching Zatanna's height and weight was depressingly easy for the alien shapeshifter, but she kept her human appearance from her time on Earth. The freckles had disappeared, but her amber eyes, short red hair, and light skin had remained. Her general appearance had matured slightly as well, to appear as a twenty year old human girl in the prime of her youth.
Zatanna's already alluring form had only grown more so in the two years of being in Westeros. Deciding to allow her raven black hair to grow to the small of her back, the magician's curvaceous and slender frame fit the profile of one of Tyrion's bedmates far better than Megan's. Her bright cyan eyes only finished the overall pleasing appearance that Zatanna pulled off with very little trouble or effort. Of course, the low cut dresses made of some of the finest silks this side of the Narrow Sea also helped to complete the image they had crafted for their 'roles' in the Game.
Speaking of the littlest Lord, both women turned their heads to the small man that approached them when they 'felt' his presence moments later. "I find that insulting, not all of my thoughts are lewd in nature. Most I'll grant you, but not quite all. And you're absolutely right my dear. Your heads are far prettier where they currently reside." He wouldn't admit it, even on his deathbed, but Tyrion felt a pang of concern for his rather 'unique' guards. Megan, or rather M'gann, was ill suited for the nest of vipers that King's Landing truly was. But, her strange powers more than made up for the former naive nature she had when she had first arrived. Stranger still was the fact the other, Zatanna or Zat as he sometimes called her, had genuine magic behind her, much like the Children of legend. "Two years in this pit and you still manage to hold onto your morales. I almost envy you two. Almost. Having a conscience is going to ensure things end badly for you, and possibly me as well. And I'm particularly fond of living."
"Try all you like Tyrion, but you can't hide the fact you care for our safety, and the fact that you care about the people of this city. Even if half of them would rather see the royal family pissed on after being burned to ashes." Zatanna smirked at the Imp, who had joined them by the railing. As usual, he tried to feign boredom, but his thoughts, as always, gave him away. Or perhaps, he purposely let his 'guards' hear them at times. Even M'gann wasn't entirely sure on that point.
Regardless, the only reason they suspected he had been poisoned was because Jon Arryn had been a good man, but he had started asking questions. Questions they feared that had gotten him killed. Surviving the Mad King apparently hadn't endeared him to his new enemies much. "Robert Baratheon, and the army he raised in rebellion, did King's Landing and the whole of Westeros a favor by removing the Mad King. No country deserves to be ruled by a tyrant." Even Tyrion Lannister agreed with the strange girl's assessment. He knew Jamie would never admit it, but being in that man's service had nearly broken him. If nothing else could be said about him, Tyrion Lannister loved his family, no matter how fucked up they happened to be.
"Unless that tyrant happens to be me of course. And are we speaking from experience M'gann? Queen Bee of your world's Bialya must have been a nasty cunt, for you to have such venom in your thoughts. I find this darker side of you positively...stimulating." Tyrion could almost feel the secretive girl's eyes boring into the back of his head. Getting her to show the slightest frustration was a game he readily enjoyed playing. Even so, he put a hand on her back and sighed as he looked to the dead man below them. "As much as I might hate my father at times, he would not have had the Hand poisoned. He was too useful and well liked by the people to be tossed aside. Arryn found something out, something that got him killed. We'll have to be extra cautious from here on out I'm afraid."
"We weren't already being cautious?" Zatanna asked, already hating the Game with a passion as it were. M'gann purposely sent her 'outfits' to be washed and cleaned and sewn back together on occasion, just to keep her end of things going. Zatanna saved her magic and actually changed clothes like a normal person. She had found more than one of the numerous spies in the city following her however, and had sent a duplicate of herself off to mislead her unwanted tails on many occasions. As long as they were trapped in this world, they had no choice in the matter but to play along, just like the rest. "Have I ever said I hate this fucking Game you nobles play?"
"I know you do Zat; you're a perfectly sane beautiful young woman, and a very dangerous enemy in a pinch. Having you two beside me has made me realize just how lucky I am. Mostly because I get to gloat endlessly about how wonderful it is to fuck you. Just for the sake of keeping up appearances, before you glare at me yet again M'gann. As beautiful as you two are, I would never touch you in such an unseemingly manner." It wasn't fear for his own head that kept Tyrion's hands from wandering, it was because he respected them too much to sully them in such a fashion. He still couldn't resist goading them from time to time, even though he knew the answer would always remain the same. "Unless you want me to? No? Oh well. Your loss."
It had been a long time since Tyrion's rude humor had actually bothered Zatanna, now she actually found it amusing and even a little charming. "Since the day we met you Tyrion, I never thought these words would come out of my mouth...head...whatever. You may be the only half decent noble left in this entire disgusting, rotten to the core, disease that you call a city."
"And that would be putting it in the kindest fashion you could Zat. I have a few choice words I could use myself, but King's Landing is home until my father says otherwise, so best grow used to being in this rotten city. Still, if it's any consolation you two, no matter what might happen next, I have enjoyed our time together. Even if I am slow to admit it even to myself, you have made me a better Lannister. I'm down to only seven whores and five barrels of wine a week." Sadly, both women could testify to the fact that that was indeed a massive improvement over the amounts of excess Tyrion had enjoyed when they had dropped into his life. Literally.
Luckily, they had fallen on him while he was getting his wine glass filled for only the second time that morning, and even more luckily, he had been at least partially clothed. Had they arrived ten minutes later, he might have been drunk enough to ask them if they wished to join the orgy he had had planned for that day. But having been mostly sober at the time, he was able to realize the incredible nature of his strange visitors. It didn't take his keen mind more than five minutes to come to the conclusion that an apparent shape shifter / mind reader and a true magic user could be phenomenally deadly, not to mention useful. It helped that M'gann and Zatanna were intelligent and quick to adapt in their own way, and despite a rough beginning, had gotten used to being around the lecherous Imp as his exotic 'guards'.
Zatanna slightly nudged Tyrion as the funeral ceremony came to a close. The man had been lost in his thoughts, as he was prone to do when he was bored, and hadn't noticed his siblings approaching. "I see you saw fit to bring your whores, oh I do apologize, your guards dear brother. At least you got out of bed long enough to attend these tragic proceedings."
There was one person in all of King's Landing that M'gann would have gladly renounced her vow to never abuse her powers again, and if not for the literal Hell that would grip the world if she struck down Cersei Lannister, the martian would have done it without a second thought. Robert Baratheon, despite all of his faults, still loved the ice cold hearted woman, and he would undoubtedly make heads roll until he found the one responsible for the deed. That was another problem with being in King's Landing; a single comment heard by the wrong person could eventually return to bite you in the ass later. If a single statement could do that, then actions against the crown had far more reaching consequences for everyone.
Zatanna wholeheartedly agreed with M'gann's hatred of Cersei, but she was more patient around the queen. Her scathing remarks still stung after two years, but the magician had yet to set the woman ablaze. Her father would have been proud of her restraint, but Zatanna did find it trying at times, dealing with the Lannisters' shit day in and day out. Jamie was tolerable, most days, but Cersei was far harder to deal with. All Zatanna had to do was look at Cersei's favored son, Joffrey, to have a reason to hate the queen's guts.
Fortunately, Tyrion's whip quick tongue retorted far faster than his guards could react. "You are as elegant and tactful as ever dear sister. But you know what they say about the pot defaming the kettle."
A sly grin appeared on Jamie's face as he bent over and whispered in his stature challenged brother's ear. "I don't really think black applies brother. I believe the color green would be far more appropriate." Showing exactly how impotent she was to harm him, Jamie gave a stunning smile to Megan as he returned to his full height. "My brother always seems to have...interesting taste in women. I thank you for your loyal service in saving him from himself, no doubt."
Zatanna had to grab Megan's arm behind Tyrion's back to stop her friend from reacting to the veiled reference to her nature. She couldn't risk a political incident, none of them could, especially against the Kingslayer and his sister. "Your brother is a better man than you give him credit for my Lord, he just needs a gentler hand than some." There was a double entendre in there, and Cersei scoffed at the image Megan had conjured for her while Jamie seemed almost amused by the 'whore's' choice of words.
Zatanna had to hide the smirk that wanted to form on her face as she came up with her own two coppers to include in the conversation. "M'lord, my friend is right. Lord Tyrion might be small in stature, but it's always the least looked upon you should worry the most about. They tend to surprise you."
"Mostly I find that they tend to be killed, or die in poverty. One mustn't be too concerned with the affairs of commoners." Cersei made a point of casting her brother a smug look. "Or the other lowly people that fill this world."
"Oh if you only knew sweet sister." Tyrion 'thought', just able to hide the smirk that threatened to appear on his face since he knew that his 'guards' were far more than they appeared. So his brother had heard of Megan's true color when she was asleep, that was not a big threat at the end of the day as far as he was concerned. Most knew very little about the far reaches of the world, even the so-called authorities. If worst came to worst, he could simply say she was from a foreign land, far from the known world. Who would in their right mind would question a Lannister's word? Besides another Lannister, or someone of near equal importance or above such as the King, no one would dare. "And that is why I am glad I am a Lannister sweet sister. We always pay our debts, and usually tend to live longer than most. Now if you'll excuse me, I believe we have some packing to attend to. If Robert is as predictable as ever, we'll be going to Winterfell before too long."
"I would command you to leave your whores here, but I know you won't listen Tyrion. Do as you like, you always do anyway." Now that she was calm once more, Megan, Zatanna, and the man that could be grudgingly called their friend, simply turned around and bowed to the queen in their respective ways, snubbing Cersei and her brother in the politest way they could. When they were out of earshot, Cersei looked down to her hands and only then realized she had been digging her nails into the skin of her palms. "Why couldn't father have drowned him at birth? I'll never understand why he allowed that wretched, vile little Imp to live."
Jamie had to give Tyrion credit, no one else he knew could piss his sister off quite so easily and get away with it. "Well, you know how much father says we have to 'honor the family name' along with his other trite lessons."
What had to be the most notable trio in all of Westeros quickly made their way to Tyrion's private quarters post haste. While not especially receptive of the feelings of most women, Tyrion Lannister could read his unique guards like an open book, even without the telepathy linking them together. In the two years since becoming friends, of a sort, Tyrion had grown accustomed to having Zatanna and Megan in his mind and he in theirs. If not for that link, their alliance would not have fared so well. As strange as it had been at first, feeling their emotions and sharing their memories at times, it was something he would have missed quite a bit if it was ever taken away.
"It sometimes bothers me just how much I wish I could kill your 'dear sister' Tyrion." A subtle grin formed on Zatanna's lips as she imagined setting the woman on fire. Repeatedly. The image she shared with her two companions was enough to calm Megan's frayed nerves considerably, and even the martian, after Jamie's admittance of knowing something about her, had to smile at Zatanna's imagination.
"How dare you imagine roasting my dear sister alive! That's my favorite pass time, I'm afraid you will have to get your own Zat." It was all the three could do not to burst out into apparently random fits of laughter as they reached their destination shortly thereafter.
"At least you don't have the power to leave them all in a vegetative state. That is a fate worse than death, and one I used...and regretted afterward. In the case of Cersei and Jamie Lannister however, it's a miracle I haven't done it again." She didn't want to be that person again, but every day it got harder so long as she was in the royal family's presence.
Even Tyrion could tell just how hard it was for M'gann to restrain the 'beast' she had once been, going by some of the stories he had heard from the two women. But, he was not as concerned about the possibility of the compassionate and empathic M'gann falling off the deep end. Sitting her down at the small table, which ironically had been the same table he had been at when they had first arrived, Tyrion made it a point to squeeze her right hand between his own and met her gaze before 'speaking' again. "You worry too much, my compassionate Rose. If it makes you feel any better, I completely understand your desire to do them harm, but I know you're too good of a person to actually do so."
M'gann managed to give the little Lord a slight smile; he always knew just what to say to cheer her up. "I wish I was as confident of that as you are, Tyrion." The Lannister knew that mercy and kindness were traits that more often than not would get you killed in King's Landing, or worse. Yet he always felt compelled to encourage their continued existence in both of his unusual charges. Without those two traits, he doubted they'd be the same people he had come to enjoy having in his life.
"Then be glad that if things go as I know they are likely to, you will be meeting a truly honorable man, and his family, before the month is out. Lord Eddard Stark, the Lord of the Northlands, is one of the few people Robert can turn to in a time of crisis. Without Jon serving as his Hand, Ned will no doubt be asked to take up the mantle. If you wish, you may stay in Winterfell. I believe you would be far safer there, given the increasingly annoying attempts to discover more of our shared secrets."
"You wouldn't survive a week without us Tyrion." Zatanna replied, her smirk hiding how truly touched she was by his offer to leave them with a far better family and living situation than they had now. M'gann was also shocked, but not as much by Tyrion's surprising offer. She had always known, from day one as a matter of fact, that there was a truly good man underneath the bullshit veneer Tyrion projected to everyone around him. "As much as we might hate it here Tyrion, we owe you a lot for what you've done for us in the two years since we've been together. I know I wouldn't feel right leaving you alone with your screwed up family." What Zatanna didn't say was that she almost considered Tyrion like the brother she never had. Leaving him would be like losing her father all over again.
The Lannister managed to give Zatanna a look that screamed 'Are you an idiot?', while never losing the twinkle in his eyes. "Screwed up? Try morbidly psychotic and devious to boot, but my offer still stands. If you ever tell anyone this I will deny it to my dying breath but, incredibly selfish as I am, I would rather my neck be in the proverbial noose than either of yours."
"Zatanna's right Tyrion. You accepted me after some...explanation, and treated me with more respect than anyone else in your world, or on my homeworld for that matter." M'gann couldn't come out and say it either, but Tyrion Lannister was the closest thing to the eccentric father figure she could have wished for in Westeros. Even her own biological father hadn't been nearly as protective of her as the littlest Lannister was, and it helped that he was a forward thinker, even in such a backwards place. Seven Hells take her if she even considered abandoning him to the machinations of his own family.
"It's nice to know that even vastly advanced civilizations are just as stupid as my own. Anyone who would mistreat you for the color of your skin should have been cast into the Seven Hells long ago." He'd never admit it either, but he was truly and deeply touched that they would risk their lives for him,even if King's Landing made them absolutely miserable. It spoke volumes about their character, as well as their steadfast loyalty that he would never betray. "Well, we'd best start packing. I doubt Robert will wait more than a few days, a week at most. The fat bastard does crave a good adventure when he gets the opportunity, I'll give him that."
Zatanna's 'mouth' was quicker than the hand she used to deal from a deck of cards. "You mean when he isn't hunting, drinking, and whoring himself into an early grave?" As degrading as the thought was, it was no secret to anyone that the King indulged himself far too much. Not even the deceased Hand had been able to talk sense into Robert about his excessive habits, some of which put even Tyrion's to shame.
"I suppose you want me to take some type of lesson from that Zat? I fear I am a terrible student when it comes to reining in one's vices. Feel free to keep on trying though, I do so love the frustrated looks you give me." As if to show just how futile a quest that was, their patron downed an entire glass of wine in one large gulp.
"You might wake up one day and find the bed is smoldering if I get frustrated enough." Zatanna grinned while M'gann stifled the giggle that wanted to escape her lips. Tyrion merely rolled his eyes, and gave one of his best shit eating grins he was capable of.
"My dear Zat, is that sexual tension I hear in your voice? You know, I hear Petyr Baelish is having a special on his best whores this weekend. Perhaps you should go indulge yourself...for once. I know I'm going to, repeatedly. As much as I'm sure I'll enjoy freezing my balls off in the North, I plan on staying a bit warmer at night until then." Neither woman could honestly blame him if the stories about the North, and the infamous Wall, were true. While M'gann was suited for the cold, she knew that humans weren't so easily able to adapt. Given Tyrion's preferences for the warmer climes, and warm beds for that matter, he would no doubt be miserable in the cold and far less comfortable accommodations of the North.
"Haven't you learned Tyrion? Lannisters aren't the only people that pay their debts. A magician scorned, especially a female magician, is one enemy you don't want to make." Megan replied, standing from the table before going to the nearest dresser to prepare for the trip. "Come on Lord Tyrion, no need to waste time, we at least should get started right? We'll have some left over...later." 'Playing the part' wasn't so hard for M'gann, even if it left a bad taste in the martian's mouth to keep up the appearance of Zatanna and herself playing bed warmers to the little lord.
"You ruined a perfectly good joke, with a not so veiled twist on my House's own motto, while managing to scare the piss right out of me at the same time. Nicely done." The smirk on Tyrion's face never faltered, even as he too rose from the small table and considered which books he'd be taking with him for the impending trip to the North. "Oh my dear 'Rose', if you weren't so good at sucking my cock, I would never stand such impertinence."
In an odd way, it troubled Tyrion that he couldn't even do his part around the two girls to make their little show all the more convincing, without feeling a slight twinge of guilt. The fact that the two had become lovers over the last year had assuaged some of that guilt. It kept them sane and provided a way to relieve stress, and Tyrion usually either hung around and read a book, with a silence spell over his head until they were done, or went out in public with duplicates of the two women while the real Zatanna and Megan took care of business. He could easily understand why they never availed themselves of his favorite hobby. Why would you want to fuck a possible spy when you could make love to your trusted friend instead? It certainly occurred to him, several times, how utterly insane it was for him to sit reading A History of Westeros while two beautiful women made love in the next room. Oh the tortures I submit to for my friends...
The closest he had ever gotten to actually playing the part completely was Zatanna offering to make a duplicate of herself for his use, but to their sheer shock and surprise, Tyrion had bluntly refused. She had tried to explain that she wouldn't technically feel a thing, that it was really a pale imitation of the real magician, but the Lannister had again refused. His reasoning had been simple, and probably the most honest they had ever heard him, at that time. "She still looks just like you Zatanna, and I would still feel as if I was abusing you in some way. I will not let that stand, even if it would make this whole Game that much more convincing." That had been the night he had earned their utter respect and loyalty. The affair had been six months into their stay in King's Landing, and their friendship had only improved from there.
"Then I'll just have to continue impressing you, Little Lord." "At least that part is true." It always brought a smile to Tyrion's face when M'gann giggled, glad she had kept that innocent habit as well.
Free City of Pentos
Connor Kent
How he hadn't completely destroyed Viserys Targaryen was anyone's guess. Standing silent watch in the back of the small gathering that was constantly around the would be king of the Seven Kingdoms, Connor Kent, Cadmus clone and a member of the team, had to remember who he was there to protect. Daenerys, the timid, quiet sister to the temperamental asshole, needed protection from more than her brother's whims. There had been at least three attempts on the Targaryen's lives since he had been a part of their loyal guards, and each time the assassins had been beaten back if not left in a pile of broken body parts. It was the only thing that kept Connor from doing the same to Viserys, but everyday it grew harder for him to hold his temper in check.
He had lost count of the number of sword hilts he had bent out of shape when he clenched his hand too tightly anytime he was asked to watch over the soon to be sold off Daenerys, and Viserys happened to be in the same room. If not for his years on the team back home, the constant training and all the time spent with his 'father', the real Superman, Clark Kent, Conner doubted he'd have done half as well as he had thus far in restraining himself. Especially at that very moment, as it always sickened him to see Daenerys being touched by her brother.
Waking the dragon indeed. That pissant doesn't know anything of the world. I don't care if his father was the King once, he was one Targaryen that would have been better off dead. Conner thought to himself as he turned his back to the now undressed Daenerys, doing his best to ignore the words he could hear whispered between the brother and sister. His superior senses were a curse in cases like this. Just like the real Superman, the clone's body was superhuman in every way, and when you could hear and see better than the average person by far, there was little point in trying to distance yourself from the man you hated with a passion.
So focused was he on blocking out the disgusting way the man handled his own sister, Conner didn't hear Viserys approach until the man was right behind him. It took every bit of his restraint he had not to turn around and shove Viserys' head down his throat when the bastard brushed by the kryptonian clone, and smirked over his shoulder at Conner on his way out the door. Not everyone is out to please your twisted ego pal. "The water's too hot m'lady." Conner looked over his shoulder when one of the servant's noted on the temperature of the water, but it didn't take a mind reader to see that Dany wasn't feeling the heat. If anything, she seemed to thrive in it.
"Would it bother you if I said I hated your brother's guts?" Conner asked, his back still turned away from the beautiful if timid young woman. The servants were wise enough to hold their tongues around the seemingly invincible young bodyguard. Spears, lances, swords, shields; all of them and more broke against Conner, leaving only bruises and small cuts behind that disappeared in hours, if not sooner. To be more accurate, he broke them, and the stupid men that wielded them, with ease. It was what had allowed him to stay in the employ of Viserys and his sister, his seemingly unstoppable physical nature.
Conner had no doubt that dragon glass, castle forged steel, and valyrian forged weapons could hurt him a great deal, but out in these lands, few people had such quality in their blades. The only reason he knew about any of them was that Viserys, despite all of his faults, was intelligent and he was also a chatty drunk. He liked to brag and boast about the sword he carried, among other things.
Unbeknownst to even her own brother however, Connor had learned of a stronger side to the pale woman. She was smarter and far more patient than he would have imagined upon first meeting her. "No...it would not Ser Kent. Please do not let my brother's less than elegant ways trouble you. I have learned that patiently abiding him is far superior than dealing with his immature wrath."
"You remind me of one of my old mentors from home, the way you're able to hold your true colors in check, even in the face of that pompous ass." Black Canary, the martial arts trainer and psychologist for the young team, came to mind anytime he was in Dany's presence, alone as they were now. Both women were far more than they appeared.
"It's a Game I have managed to become very adept at, since I had no choice but to play my part. You may turn around now Ser Kent, if you wish." While most only saw a fragile looking young blonde woman, Connor could always see the hidden fire in her eyes. He didn't need superhuman senses to see it either, but he was far more perceptive than most because of his time around people that hid so much about themselves on a regular basis. He hoped that spark of defiance in her soul would one day see her free of her abusive, and cruel, elder sibling. Connor had, unbeknownst to her brother, helped fan that spark, but it was slow going. Two years didn't undo a lifetime of cruelty and having to hide everywhere you went for fear of royal assassins catching up with you.
Connor found himself tongue tied for a moment as he took in the gossamer white wedding gown that had almost been poured onto the older woman. Being born a force grown clone made virtually everyone older than him biologically, but Connor didn't concentrate on that detail as he did his best to hide the blush on his cheeks at the mere sight of Dany. "I hate to admit it, but your brother has good taste. In clothing at least. Don't tell him I said this either, but he's right, you do slouch too much. You're a beautiful, strong woman Daenerys; be proud you're not like him in any way."
Coming from Connor, the words didn't make her skin crawl, like her brother's had. It helped that he wasn't feeling up her breasts of course. "I thank you for your honesty, and I shall not speak of the unheard of event of your actually agreeing with my brother on anything." The mischievous twinkle in Daenerys' eyes never failed to put a grin on Connor's face. "Now let me be honest with you in kind. I know how trying he is, but I am eternally grateful you haven't killed him Ser Kent. We both know how easily you could do it."
From someone that had no true blood family to call his own, Connor's next words weren't lost on the Targaryen woman, having heard part of his story, edited as it had been so she could understand what he had been through. "You've lost enough Dany. Your home, your friends, everything. I would never deprive you of the last remaining relative you have left, even if he's a terrible person."
"I would tell you that I wish to mellow his more harsh qualities, but I know my brother will never be changed. Despite his claims, he is no dragon, if anything, he is a foul tempered lizard that is doomed to be crushed under another's boot." The imagery Dany painted for Connor made the small smile on his face grow considerably as he fell in step behind the better half of the remaining Targaryens.
As much as he hated the arranged marriage to the coming Khal Drogo, he knew that without a strong army at their back, there would be no hope of retaking Dany's home. Connor didn't relish the thought of fighting in a war that wasn't his own, but if it meant keeping the woman safe, then he'd do what he had to do. It was no secret to the kryptonian that Dany didn't want to go through with the marriage either, but the desire to go home overruled her desire to run away and never look back.
And Dany was done running. "Time to meet my future husband, I hope Khal Drogo will find me acceptable. This is truly the last chance my family has of reclaiming its rightful place in Westeros."
"A blind man could see how beautiful and kind you are Dany. This Drogo is an idiot if he can't see something so obvious." The 'timid' girl returned as they exited the home of their current host with her bodyguard by her side, much to Viserys' silent annoyance. Connor could feel the man's eyes on his back until he took his place on his sister's right side, but the smirk on the clone's face never faltered. Even as Dany was held back and told about the Khal's reputation as the most savage killer in the land, Connor had won the day by annoying Visy even in the slightest.
Connor found his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword, yet again, as Dany approached the rather stern looking man at the front of a small group on horseback. He spoke but a few words, more like grunted them out, and then rode off without a look back. "That's it? He didn't say anything, did he like her?"
Before Illyrio could say anything to the aptly named Beggar Prince, Connor beat him to the punch as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I have a feeling we'd know if he didn't." While everyone else added some kind of respectful title to Viserys whenever they spoke to him, not once had Connor done so. It was just one of the things that drove the would be King insane with rage that Connor was able to get away with.
"Your arrogant tongue is getting to be an overly burdensome annoyance boy. I think I shall finally cut it out for you." Viserys immediately turned on his heel and pulled his sword from its sheath, but Connor was the faster as his sword's tip stopped at the man's throat, freezing him to the spot.
His blue eyes narrowed to slits as he casually walked around Viserys, his sword's tip never wavering from its spot against the man's neck. "I promised I would never kill you Viserys, but I'm not an enemy you want to make. I'm here to protect her, not you. So don't tempt me Dragonborn. And just so we're clear, Daenerys is more of a dragon than you could ever be."
"How dare-" Connor jabbed the man's throat hard enough to draw blood and he finally seemed to realize the tenuous nature of his situation. "I believe I shall retire for the day sister, your simpleton brute has given me a terrible headache."
A gentle hand on Connor's arm made the clone relax and lower his sword, letting Viserys run with his pride and enormous ego at least partially intact. "I don't know whether to congratulate your boldness young Ser or to warn you of the repercussions that are likely to fall on you." Illyrio smiled regardless as he returned to his palatial estate, having a Dothraki wedding to prepare for in the near future.
The Wall
Bart Allen
"Too slow!" Bart had never been hit, but the recruits he was training now, and had trained, knew that the punches he threw hurt. Even the punches they never saw coming hurt a great deal, as the many painful bruises, cuts, and welts could attest to already. Today was worse given the recent losses the Night's Watch had endured, not to mention the fact that they were still missing three men. "Pain is up here, learn to deal with it." Tapping the side of his head with his right index finger, Bart gave the downed recruits time to recover as he continued his lecture. "Fear is a choice, make it before it decides for you." A man gasping for air was pulled to his feet a fraction of a second later. "Either you're going to defend yourself and the man standing beside you, or you aren't." No matter how bad things got in one of Bart's lessons, the instructor always made it a point to soothe their egos and their prides by being kind to the recruits afterwards. He had gained an instant following because of it.
And then there was Allisor Thorne, a man that was cruel, bitter, and harsh to the extreme. Bart always thought of Black Beetle when in the drill master's presence. "It seems you're still the least useless person here Allen. All right you pathetic little cunts! Go clean yourselves up and stop disgracing this place!"
"It's bad enough that I humiliate them per our leaders' orders, but you don't have to humiliate them too Thorne. Would it kill you to pretend to be human?" Bart was ready for the inevitable tirade, but it never came as Lord Commander Jeor Mormont stepped in before they could come to blows, again.
Walking down the stairs from the castle keep, the man had a good view of the area below as he addressed his men. "The boy has a point, Thorne. We need more well trained men, not broken husks. You're going good lad; I already overheard them plotting how to work together in order to best you next time." The Lord Commander gave Bart a rare grin as he continued. "That is exactly the kind of thing we need in the Night's Watch, those that band together for a common cause. There isn't enough of that to go around in these dark days."
After putting the goggles back on the top of his head, the only part of his old costume he had kept, Bart couldn't help the smirk on his face as he rubbed the bottom of his chin with the back of his right wrist. "Thanks old man Mormont- err High Lord Ultra Commander."
Mormont only raised an amused eyebrow, long used to Bart's usual disregard for most authority. Thorne only grunted in annoyance and walked away. The 'lad' that had become the new favorite in the span of a mere two years on the Wall had to sleep sometime. The boy would get his just punishment one day, of that he was sure. Luckily for Bart, most of the other brothers of the Watch either saw what a great help he was to them, or had become friends with the impulsive young warrior.
Despite his jovial attitude, Bart suspected Thorne would try something sooner or later. Where he came from, it had been kill or be killed. He recognized a potential threat when he saw one, and the horrors he had witnessed in the bleak future that was no longer a part of the world he had left behind would have broken even Thorne. Make your plans Alliser, I'll be ready. He had fought and defeated far worse men than Alliser Thorne with one hand tied behind his back. Even so, Bart wouldn't underestimate him.
It had taken them months to accept his strange abilities, even Mormont had been slow to trust him at first, but things had changed for the better. The day he had single handedly rescued a raiding party that had foolishly gone far beyond the Wall, was the day he had earned the respect of the Night's Watch. Fool recruits, seeking to prove themselves in a land that killed men as easily as the beasts and wildlings that called it home, had gotten themselves in over their heads. While they had been punished for their stupidity, Bart would still get the occasional nod of thanks, even the better part of a year later. It probably had just as much to do with the fact he had pleaded with the Lord Commander to show them leniency, as it did with the fact he had saved their lives.
The only downside to being the fastest man in Westeros was that he had the metabolism to match. Luckily, Mormont turned a blind eye to Bart's need to hunt far beyond the Wall in search of his own food, so long as he brought back a share of his success to the barracks to share among the men. Meat graced the tables nearly every night, something that had been unheard of before his arrival. A specially made sled helped ease the burden of dragging the dead animals back to be served to the men later, once they had been properly prepared. Even before leaving the dark future he had grown up in behind, Bart had been an accomplished hunter. His time in the Night's Watch had only made him a better tracker. They had taught him tricks even he hadn't considered before.
Despite all of his tricks and his abilities, they still had three missing rangers out beyond the Wall, and Bart felt responsible. Mormont put a hand on his young friend's shoulders, drawing the speedster out of his dark thoughts. "Look lad, you haven't taken your vows, but you're more of a brother of the Watch than most of the men here. You've done far better work and far more to aid our number than twenty of our rangers put together. You have nothing to be ashamed of and you are not responsible for ill fate taking three of our boys. But I'll stop you before you even ask permission. Go, find them if you can, and if you can't, find out what happened to them." Bart's face lit up like it was his Nameday before he left a black blur behind in his wake, a blast of wind following behind him as the speedster ran down the Wall itself and into the land beyond. "Good luck lad."
Seven Hells take him if he couldn't find three missing rangers. He wouldn't stop looking until he had something concrete to bring back to Mormont, be it good news or bad. It took him the better part of that day, backtracking the trail the rangers had left behind, but Bart found his answers when night had fallen. "Oh I am seriously feeling the mode right now." Old blood on the ground, the signs of a fight, and the hoof prints of the rangers' horses were evident enough even in the failing light. It wasn't until he came across the remains of the wildings' camp that he started to wonder if he hadn't gotten himself into trouble.
The depressions in the snow where the bodies had been left to sit in a very particular pattern made Bart nervous as he knelt at the edge of the site, examining what clues there were to see. Something had taken the time to arrange the corpses. The fact the corpses weren't there anymore made the speedster even more nervous, having heard the old stories the Night's Watch told the new recruits, having been one himself not so long ago. He was starting to wonder if they weren't just stories anymore.
Unsheathing the daggers he kept on his belt, Bart felt a chill go down his spine as he thought he saw a pair of blue eyes peering back at him for a moment before they disappeared. He wasn't alone in the woods, and the fact he felt like he had suddenly become the hunted only added to the tension in the air. "This is so not crash. Is anyone out there?! I'm looking for-" Bart caught a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision and barely had time to duck when a blade came out of the dark, held by a recently dead man with icy blue eyes. Since half of his chest was hanging open, that pretty much answered the question of his current state of health. The fact he was all in black also told Bart who he had once been.
"Oh this is so not crash at all. I'm sorry man, but it's either you or me tonight, and I prefer to live. At least I can help you rest in peace, and as a bonus you'll be all the proof old man Mormont needs." Bart wasted no time in slicing up the man before the former ranger literally fell apart before his eyes. He made it a point to keep the head in one piece so it'd be easier to identify who the man had been, but as soon as Bart went to pick it up, the Wight's eyes opened again and the head tried to take a bite out of his hand. "Now I just need you to start saying 'you will never find the Necronomicon' and we'd have the perfect rendition of Army of Darkness going here." Bart quickly threw together a simple sled, and then very carefully tossed the head onto it first before adding the rest of the body. It was just in time because he could have sworn he had seen three more sets of icy blue eyes in the dark in the few seconds it had taken him to make his sled.
He had a feeling there were more he wasn't seeing among the ice and snow. He was the fastest man in Westeros, but even Bart had his limits, and he wasn't about to take on an army of undead creatures in the frigid dark night. "See ya!" Grabbing onto the handlebars of his improvised sled, the speedster took off just as the trap started to close in around him as a dozen Wights stepped out of the trees around him. He barely had time to run to the side when a straggler swung its axe at him, leaving a painful shallow cut on his left side, but he was out of reach long before the Wight got a chance to try it again.
"And I thought the Reach was bad...at least they weren't freakin' ice zombies." Even as the boy laughed at his own joke, he was terrified inside that he had been a split second away from a fate worse than death. He was never going to wander so far from the Wall again after tonight, even during his hunting trips. That last close shave had been far too close for his liking. Getting back to Castle Black in a miniscule fraction of the time it would have taken a raiding party, Bart took a moment to catch his breath.
"You're getting slow lad." Benjan Stark smirked, having had a feeling their resident speedster would be coming. He never took more than a day at most to return from a mission in any case, and the First Ranger had volunteered to wait for his return. Seeing the sled several feet behind the young man, Benjan felt all of his good humor disappear when he saw the grisly cargo Bart had brought back. "That's far enough lad, the Lord Commander would cut my balls off if I let you bring that bloody thing beyond the Wall. Just take the head, easy enough to burn this lot in the meantime."
"Don't mind if I do Benny boy. I need a bandage anyway, got myself marked by one of that thing's friends on my way back." Bart was immensely relieved just to be back at Castle Black as he looked at the First Ranger with the same respect he had for Mormont. "If you plan to go out there, watch yourself Benjan. I don't think the rest of the Rangers are coming home. And if they do..." All they had to do was look at the sled to fill in that morbid blank.
"Get your arse moving boy-" A strong cold gust of wind smacked into Benjan Stark's face a moment later as Bart took his advice, for once. "I hate it when he does that, always get damn icicles in my beard." Despite his complaints, Benjan looked worriedly to the remains that the lad had brought back. Wights appearing again, rumors of dark things in the forests, wildling sightings, and the days were slowly getting shorter. Winter was indeed coming, and he feared that the cold nights would bring with it more than a slow, cold death. At least this night would be a little warmer.
Closing Notes: Vergil1989; Richard Grayson and Kaldur'ahm aren't forgotten, they just haven't made an appearance yet because the people they are with haven't made an appearance just yet. D So that begs the question, are they in one of the other Kingdoms, or are they somewhere else entirely, such as the Brotherhood Without Banners? Only time shall tell in this new twist on a cult classic.
Archer83; You mean the acclaimed tv show? Right? Just kidding! I'd rather not face the wrath of everyone who loved the books. Although we will be making extensive changes. (Braces for the oncoming shit storm.)
Vergil1989; Well I'd rather not face everyone that loves either the books or the TV shows so we're both hoping to survive the terrors of the night lol. (Braces for the Shadow 'child' that someone is bound to send after me for what I'm about to say.) In all seriousness, as you can see, everyone has changed to some degree. Tyrion is nicer, the Seven forbid, Eddard is a little more willing to smile, things like that. But while those changes haven't been explained in detail just yet, they will be told through flashbacks in later chapters.
Also, as you can no doubt guess, there will be heavy canon-divergence before this is over as Archer hinted at already. For now, we're more or less sticking to the script, but soon enough, the script is doomed to burn in a blaze of dragon fire. D Old alliances will crumble, as will old friendships and past loves, while new ones will be forged.
Archer 83; To sum it up; some will die, some will live, but it'll be anything but predictable. Enjoy the ride!