Ned Stark Lives! Part 3

by cbstevp

The war against the Others continues as new factions from Dorne and the Vale join the fight. But a formidable new player joins the field as Daenerys Targaryen and her dragons return to Westeros. Meanwhile Jon Snow continues his mission to seek out and defeat the Great Other. Only the gods know who will win and who will lose, and who will sit the Iron Throne.

26. Chapter 26 Jon

Ned Stark Lives! Part 3 Chapter 26 Jon

"It's not Lord Commander Mormont's bird," Sam Tarly said as they stood looking up at the tree where the dark raven sat on a bare branch.

"No, it isn't," Jon Snow agreed.

"How can you tell?" Hastram asked them. "Looks like any other crow to me."

"Not a crow," Sam told him. "It's a raven."

"Aye," Val chimed in. "These two are crows so they should know what one looks like. It's a raven."

"What's the difference?" the wildling archer Hella asked.

Sam answered. "Ravens are bigger, have a bigger, longer beak, and a more triangular shaped tail."

"What's it matter?" Hastram spat. "Let's be moving up the glacier while there is light to see."

"We need to know where to go," Jon reminded him. "If this is the bird Bran talked about we must find out."

"Snow, Jon Snow," the raven squawked and all their mouths dropped opened in surprise.

"It called you by name," Val said. "Did the commander's bird ever do that?"

"Aye," Jon replied. "But never my whole name. Just Snow."

"It's not his bird," Sam insisted. "It must be Bran."

"Bran," the bird said next. "Bran Stark...Stark…Stark!"

"What's everyone gawking at?" Angus Norrey asked as he arrived on the scene from the camp. "What's with the tree?"

"Talking bird," Hastram said. "Lord Snow's brother it appears."

"Cousin," Sam corrected him.

"Cousin…aye," said Val.

"He got any news?" Angus asked, seemingly not surprised, as if birds talked to people every day.

Not surprised, Jon thought. Not one of them seemed too surprised, not after the things they had seen. A little girl who turned people into killers. Turned friends on friends, lovers on lovers, parents on children…a little girl infected with the evil will of their enemy…whoever or whatever that may be…wherever it may be.

Further on they must go, Bran had told him through the heart tree. And that he would join them, as a raven, to help show the way. But three days they had waited and no raven came, and each day they spent here their food grew less. Even more worrying to Jon was he knew not how much time he had. Great events were happening in the south, the Others over running the Seven Kingdoms, and he knew he had to do his part to stop them. Several times each day Jon went to the heart tree and tried to contact Bran but when he put his hand to its face nothing happened and Jon feared for Bran and his companions. There was naught he could do about it. Three days they camped on the small plateau that was near the glacier that tumbled down from the heights above. Three days…and they lost another member of their party.

Croaker's lower right leg wound festered and all the healing skill the free folk had could not help him. The infection spread from his lower leg to his upper thigh and the leg had to come off or he would soon die. But they had no maester and none here had the skill to amputate a leg and seal the wound before he would bleed to death. Already he was losing the fight, his face pale, and his breath growing ragged and his voice weaker. Jon had volunteered to shear the dead leg away with Lightbringer, hoping that its heat would seal the wound, but Croaker told him not to bother.

"I am dead anyway," Croaker had said in a quiet voice. "With one leg I cannot come with you and I cannot go back alone."

"We will send some people back with you," Jon had told him. He looked at the rest, huddled around the camp fires. "I need two volunteers to take Croaker back to the Shadow Tower."

"No volunteers, Lord Snow," Hastram said bluntly as he stood to face Jon. "It took us more than three weeks to get here and with a wounded man it will take more to get back. Any we send back will die as well, from the wights or the cold or from lack of food."

"But he will die!" Jon protested.

"Aye," Val said. "And might anyways, so why should two more?" She drew her dagger and walked over to Croaker where he lay by the fire. "Are you ready?"

"Val! Stop!" Jon shouted as he moved to block her.

"No, don't stop her," Croaker gasped, pain in his voice and eyes now. "Do it. My leg is on fire…I feel the poison creeping up to my innards. It's too late to cut it off. Give me a clean death…go on, do it!"

"Val…" Jon started to plead but then Sam spoke.

"They are right, Jon…we cannot sacrifice more of our party in hopes of saving him."

"And what if it was you, Sam?" Jon asked. "What if you had to die?"

Sam's face blanched, but then he took a deep breath and spoke. "If it comes to it you must kill me as well."

"I could never do that," Jon said quietly. But he knew Sam was right, they were all right, and so Jon finally relented. One by one the free folk walked over to Croaker and said their goodbyes. Finally, Hastram walked to Val and held out his hand and looked at her dagger. "He is one of mine, I will do it." Hastram had given his dagger as a gift to Brastle and had left it with the dead man when they had burned his body. Val passed her dagger to him and stepped back.

Hastram bent over Croaker and lifted his head and put the blade to the back of his head where the soft spot was, just where the brain and neck met. Jon knew one thrust in there would be the end of Croaker. "May the old gods find a place at their table for you, my friend," Hastram said quietly.

"I hope to see you there as well some day," Croaker replied, his voice now strong and clear as if he found his last reserves of strength. "Old and greyer than you are now." He took one last breath. "Do it."

And before the last word was hardly out of his mouth Hastram pushed the dagger into his brain. Croaker gasped once and then his back arched and his whole body sagged. In a few moments he breathed his last. Hastram wiped off the blood on Croaker's furs and gave the dagger back to Val.

After they burned Croaker, they talked on what to do next. "We can't wait for Bran," Sam finally said and it was agreed to find a way up the glacier in the morning. It had to be this way for they found no other. They had spent a day after Jon's last talk with Bran looking for a way up the sheer cliff the glacier was on…and none was to be found. The glacier was part of an escarpment that revealed itself to their eyes as they explored further a field. Trees concealed most of its outline and no paths were found up it or through the stands of forest. "It could go for many miles east and west," Hastram had said. "We could lose days and may never find our way back to the glacier. None of my people have been up here before."

"Yet up there we must go, Bran said," Jon reminded them and then he decided. "We climb the ice."

But it turned out not to be necessary. The next morning as they cooked a pot of oats for breakfast Ghost raced off past the giant's tombs that dotted the area and ran to the weirwood. When Jon caught up to him Ghost was sitting nearby the weirwood, under a bare leaf birch tree that had a big black raven sitting on an upper branch. The bird croaked one word "Snow" and soon the rest came when he called.

"It must be Bran," Sam concluded after the bird squawked Bran Stark's name. Then the bird took off and flew back down the pathway they had taken up to the plateau more than three days ago. They raced off to find it and it was sitting there on another tree.

"Jon Snow," it croaked. "Follow me."

"Gods," Sam said in astonishment. "It is him."

"Follow it where?" Hastram asked. "There's nothing but trees and rocks."

"No…I see another trail," Angus said, peering past them through the trees and then he barged forward, his big shoulders pushing aside branches and soon they heard him shouting and the rest followed the way he took. And there on the other side of a small stand of trees was another path, winding uphill to the east and angling a bit north.

"That could go up the escarpment," Jon said. They followed the trail for a few hundred yards and then the path ended, at a place where the escarpment had eroded to the point where a large fall of rock had come down and now blocked the path.

Jon looked over the rock fall from all angles. "I'm sure climbing up the rock fall would be a lot safer than the glacier."

"Aye," Val agreed, already perched on one of the bigger rocks.

"But we can't get the horses up there," Angus observed. "The Ghost might climb it but them horses never."

"Then we leave them behind," Jon commanded. "At the plateau, with some to guard them and our food stocks. We'll need both to get back to the Shadow Tower."

Back they went to the main camp and told the rest what they had found. The raven had flown back with them.

Jon explained his plans. "We take hard bread and dried meat in our backs, oats and pease and cheese as well, and fill our wine skins with melt water. Take the ropes and those climbing spikes and ice claws for our boots we took from the Shadow Tower, in case there is more climbing to do."

"A good idea," Hastram said. "But who goes, and who stays behind?"

They all wanted to go but that would not do, and Jon knew that none wanted to look like a coward in front of the rest. But staying behind might be just as dangerous with them being deep in the Others domain, so maybe that was the reason. Jon decided to take only those he knew well, not because he did not trust the other wildlings, but because he knew not their strengths and weaknesses and the things that had yet to be done might depend on him knowing them. So he picked Val, Angus, Hella, and Hastram to go with him...but not Sam. His friend looked hurt when Jon did not pick him. Jon felt a twinge of guilt, for he was only trying to protect Sam, not call into question his valor.

"We need the Slayer too," Val said immediately. "He has more brains than the rest of us together. We'll need to do some thinking up there for sure."

"Aye," said Hastram. "And he's got that pretty sword."

"Sam?" Jon asked, without needing so many words.

Sam sighed. "I want to go but…but I'll never get up that rock fall."

"You will if we pull you," Hastram said and that settled it.

After Croaker died they were six short of the original twenty that had left the Shadow Tower. Jon's party made up six more and so eight they left behind. Hastram picked a large man called Renfren to be their leader.

"How long do we wait?" Renfren asked.

"Till we get back," Hella told him as if he was stupid.

"And what if you don't get back?" Renfren retorted with a snort.

"Ten days," Jon said. "If we aren't back in ten days leave for the Shadow Tower."

"Aye," Renfren said and then he looked around the plateau. "Trees too close here. Better to make camp down by the lake, base of the glacier. Got the ice to our backs and water nearby as well."

"Be lot colder down there," one wildling complained.

"Not with the fires I plan on building," Renfren said.

Val was glaring at Jon and she nodded slightly for him to follow her. She walked to the side and he followed.

"Ten days?" she whispered, with plenty of restrained anger. "What if it's more than ten days? We can barely carry enough food for ten days as is."

"I know."

"Jon…what are we doing?"

"Following Bran."

"Is it Bran…or our enemy again…once more trying to trick us?"

"I…wait." Jon looked around until he saw the big raven sitting on a nearby tree, almost as if it was listening to them.

"Bran?"

"Jon Snow?" the bird replied.

"Bran…who are your brothers and sisters?"

The bird was silent. Val growled. "I say we kill it now. Hella! Shoot that damn…"

"No! Wait!" Jon shouted. "Bran…who are your brothers and sisters?"

More silence and now everyone was looking up at the bird. Out of the corner of his eye Jon saw Hella quietly notch an arrow to her bow. Then the bird spoke.

"Robb…Sansa…Arya…Rickon…Jon."

"That's right! It is him!" Sam said with delight.

"Maybe," Val conceded, though Jon was sure she still wasn't convinced.

"I thought Lord Snow isn't his brother," Angus said.

"I'm not, but he thought I was for a long time," Jon replied.

Hastram grunted. "Close enough for me. Let's move while we have light."

Val still looked skeptical and Jon spoke to her quietly. "We've got no choice here. We follow the bird. It's the only way to find the Great Other and destroy it somehow."

"Or maybe it's trying to lead us to a trap," she replied.

"No. It's Bran. He's trying to help us, not trick us."

"For all our sakes, I hope you are right, Lord Snow," she said and then turned away from him to get her gear ready and the rest started to do the same.

For all our sakes, she had said, and Jon knew it was more than just the people here. Maybe the whole world. Thinking on this made him feel weak and tired and so he set his mind to the tasks at hand.

Renfren and his group packed up the tents except two that Jon's party would take with them, carried by the two big men, Angus and Hastram. They put out the fires, while Jon and his team gathered food from the horses bags and began to stuff their own backpacks. Then they said goodbye to their horses, with Jon getting a firm promise from Renfren not to kill the Beast or any other horses for food while there was still a chance Jon and the rest would be back.

"Ten days," Renfren said and the look on his face made Jon think he wanted to be gone now, heading back to the Shadow Tower.

Last goodbyes were said and each party looked like they would not see the others ever again, which Jon hoped wouldn't be true but still suspected it might.

Jon's group plunged through the trees to the new trail and in a short time came to the rock fall. Jon had experience climbing the first and only time he went ranging with the Halfhand and this rock fall was nothing compared to the sheer cliff he had climbed on a dark freezing night. Up he went first, finding a path the others could follow, with a rope played out behind him as he climbed. He guessed it took near an hour to make the climb, marking the path he took with spikes in the rocks and the rope attached so the rest would have an easier time. Ghost tried to follow him but got stuck halfway at a twenty foot ledge, the only really dangerous part, and later had to be hauled up by Jon and Angus on ropes. It took most of the daylight left to get everyone up and a camp made and all were too tired to press on.

The lands they now looked over were a warren of small cone shaped hills and meandering valleys between them. Off to the north rose a higher range of hills and then a sheer long line of mountains with their tops lost in the grey overcast.

"Let's hope we don't have to climb them," Angus said as they stared off to the north.

It snowed that night and the two tents they had brought were covered when dawn came dim and overcast, nearer night than day.

"Which way?" Sam asked after they finished their breakfast and packed up the tents.

They all looked up and there was the raven sitting on a tree branch and after Sam asked his question the bird flew down a valley between two cone shaped snow covered hills.

"This way," Jon said and he started walking with Ghost running ahead and the rest behind him. The ground was uneven and snow covered and so the going was slow, as the footing was treacherous. On they went, past the hills and through the valleys, following the bird. They did not get far that day, but there was no sign of the Others or wights.

The next few days were not much different, and slowly the high mountains were coming closer. Trees became fewer and more stunted as they went and would soon disappear altogether Hastram said. The darkness of day persisted and it got so bad they had to light torches to see their way at times.

"The Long Night," Sam said as they sat having their breakfast of fried dried beef and cheese and hard bread.

"What's that, Slayer?" Val asked between swallows of food on the other side of the fire.

"The Long Night of legend," Sam told her. "When the dawn did not come and the Others walked the lands for the first time."

"Funny thing that," Angus said. "Where did they come from that first time? Who made them?"

"The Great Other," Hella said as if it were obvious.

"But what is it?" Sam asked. "Is it man or god, mortal or immortal?"

"If you don't know, how the hell should we?" Hastram growled impatiently.

"I never heard of it till recently," Jon said. "Supposedly the red priests like Thoros believe in a sort of legend, that their god R'hllor and the Great Other are two sides of a coin, one evil and one good, one light and one dark."

"So they're enemies?" Hella asked.

"Aye."

Hastram grunted. "Then why don't we call this other lord to come down and kill his enemy and we can all go home?"

"Were it so easy," Jon replied. Sometimes he thought this R'hllor might be the evil one. At Winterfell they had all heard tales of how Stannis' red woman burned prisoners in King's Landing. How she sent fire down on the Tyrell army. She would burn all of Westeros if she could rule the ashes, Jon thought. She had captured Gendry and wanted to use his blood to raise a dragon from stone, Bran had told him. As he remembered this Jon looked over at the bird where it was sitting the snow nearby Ghost, eating some dried pease Sam had put out for it.

"Bran…where is Melisandre now?"

"Dead," croaked the bird.

All were listening now. "Bran…how did she die?"

"Dragon…eat, Father say."

"A dragon?" Sam said in shock. "There is a dragon in Westeros?"

"Four dragon," the bird answered.

"Four?" Sam said, confused. "But where did they come from?"

"Dragon queen," the bird said. "Three she has."

"What the hell is a dragon queen?" Angus asked.

"He means Daenerys Targaryen," Sam said, looking at Jon. "She has come to Westeros!"

"Daenerys Targaryen…she has only three dragons, does she not?" Jon asked his friend.

"So we heard…but Bran said four."

"Four, three, what's the difference?" Val said in anger. "None are here."

"Four," Jon said. "Four would mean…the stone dragon is raised…and Gendry is dead. Maybe Arya as well."

"No," Bran the bird croaked. "Lives…Arya lives...Gendry lives."

Jon was happy at this news and tried to get more details but the bird went silent, as if saying those few heartening words had tired it out.

Later that day as they marched toward the high mountains the bird suddenly came and rested on Jon's left shoulder.

"Jon," the raven croaked. "Sword…children."

"What? My sword…oh…what did they say?"

"Sacrifice…no sacrifice…you must make…no power."

"I must make a sacrifice? What sacrifice?" But the raven flew off his shoulder and went high into the sky.

That night they barely found enough wood for the night fires from the nearby stunted trees. "Further on there will be no trees," Angus said. "We must go back. Without fire we will die."

Jon knew he was right. Ahead was nothing but bare snow and ice and stony mountains. But he could not go back, not now. He felt the handle of the sword in his hands, the first time he had done so since the battle by the lake. "We have heat," he said and drew out the sword and it pulsed with light and heat that they all instantly felt…yet it was not as strong as it had been.

"But only when you have it in your hand," Sam reminded him and the smiles on the others' faces fell.

Jon put away Lightbringer and it felt all the colder now after that brief warmth. He looked back the way they had come. "We must cut some wood then," he ordered.

Hastram shook his head. "And when that runs out…when we are days into the mountains?"

"I will use Lightbringer to give us warmth…enough to survive."

Hastram looked to argue but kept silent and finally grunted his agreement. The next morning they spent cutting wood, with half on guard while the other half chopped and hewed. As Sam and Jon chopped up a small pine tree, Jon told him what Bran had told him about Lightbringer.

"A sacrifice can only mean one thing," Sam said. "The legend of the sword tells us that Azor Ahai killed his own wife to forge the sword. That was his sacrifice. He killed what he loved, and so the sword was infused with power. But you never made the sword, you never sacrificed what you love, who you love…so maybe that's why it failed you when the little girl was possessed by the Great Other."

Jon felt he was right but it disturbed him to think so. He had to make a sacrifice to make the sword work to its full power…but who did he love? Ygritte was dead…and Val, did he love Val? No, he knew, and just by asking that question, he knew he did not. She loved him but it was not enough. They had not lain together since starting this separate journey and he did miss her warm arms and kisses…but it was not love, he knew in his heart. Maybe because Ygritte's death hurt so much he did not want to love again, ever.

The next day they came to a place that once had some kind of civilization. The ruins of a village it was clear to see. It lay by a frozen stream that came down from the mountains. The snow was not too deep here and stone house foundations were easy to see among the rocky landscape.

"Why would they build here?" Hastram asked. "There is no close source of wood for fire."

"Maybe there once was," Angus said. "Maybe they cut it all down, or the weather got colder."

"In summer this could have been a fertile valley," Sam added.

"What's that, up there?" Hella asked, her eyes up to the side of the mountain that had a very distinct cone shaped snow covered peak. "The raven is up there."

They all saw where she was pointing. It was a dark spot on the snowy mountain side…like a cave opening. After a short time, Angus found a path that led from the village to the dark place and after a cautious approach they found it was a cave after all. They had left their bags and the tents and bundles of wood they had cut all piled up by a low stone wall in the dead village.

"Maybe a mine," Jon said. The raven was sitting on the snow by the cave entrance. "Bran, what is this place?"

"Here," the bird replied.

"Here…what?"

"Go…in. Here."

"Jon," Sam said. "Look."

Sam was by the side of the entrance and with his gloves he was wiping away snow and breaking off pieces of ice. "Help me," he said. "There is something written here."

The rest came to help him and soon they realized there was more writing on the other side and above the cave entrance.

"What language is it?" Val asked.

"Ancient runes," Sam said as he looked closer. "The language of the First Men…your ancestors."

"Can you understand it?" Jon asked him.

"Maybe." Sam was staring and thinking and all was silent.

Finally Hastram spoke. "Hurry before we freeze to death."

Jon gave him a look and Hastram only shrugged. "I was just…oh, fuck."

"What…oh, fuck," Angus said in turn and then the two big men were stepping away from Hella. Hastram had his sword out and Angus leveled his big boar spear at the woman.

"What's…gods," Val said as she too stepped back. "Her eyes."

Now Jon saw it as well. He had never taken much note of her eyes before, but knew they were blue. Now he could see they were not hers. Hella's eyes were the piecing blue color of the wights. "What's the matter?" she asked, a touch of fear in her voice.

"Hella…is it you?" Jon asked her.

"Aye, Lord Snow. What…what's wrong with my eyes?"

"They're blue," Sam said.

"Aye, they always are," Hella answered, getting angry now, and she stepped back away from the rest. "Now put away your steel before I fill you with arrows."

Her threat was empty as her bow was on her back and her arrows in a quiver and not in her hands. Yet she had a short sword at her side. Hastram was staring at her, as was Angus. The big northern man's eyes darted from the woman to Jon. "Lord Snow…what do we do?"

"Nothing. We…"

"She's turned!" Hastram said. "Just like the little girl with Brastle's people."

"No," Hella said, her voice now filled with fear. "I can't be. I don't feel any different. I'm not one of them! I still live!"

"She must die," said Val.

"No…" Jon began but then Hella screamed as Val's spear caught her in the upper left leg below where her chain mail was. The spear was thrust into and out in a heartbeat and blood blossomed out and Hella cried and grasped her leg and fell to the snow as it began to redden around her.

"Finish it," Val said, looking at Hastram. "She is one of yours after all."

Hastram said nothing but strode forward and with his sword he slashed down. Hella and Sam seemed to cry out at the same time. Hella's right arm came up to block the blow and the sword cut down through her leather and furs below where the chain mail shirt was and cut through flesh to the bone. She screamed again and Hastram's second sword trust was it her throat and she died.

Only to rise moments later…and joined by many of her kind.

Sam had screamed not because of what they were doing to Hella, but because he saw the other wights, coming up from below, seemingly appearing from nowhere, as if they had been part of the rocks and snow and ice. On slow feet they climbed up to where the cave entrance was.

But Hella's wight was already up and she pulled out the short sword at her side and advanced on Hastram. The big man stabbed her again in the chest but the chain mail blocked the blow and her sword flashed out and cut his right hand and as he yelled he dropped his sword. Val stabbed Hella with her spear in the neck and Angus thrust his huge spear into Hella's side and his strength made it pierce the mail and she was caught. "Kill her!" Val shouted to Jon.

He pulled Lightbringer out…and nothing happened…only the muted light and heat of when he had it by his side and it seemed even dimmer than before and he did not trust it to kill Hella's wight. "SAM! LONGCLAW!"

Sam pulled out his Valyarian steel sword and advanced on the girl who had been their companion moments ago. He had tears in his eyes and he sobbed as he stabbed her in the face. Her dead flesh sizzled and burned and soon she was on the snow twisting and screaming as she turned to ash.

"Cave," the bird croaked. "Cave!" it croaked louder.

"We can't!" Sam said. "We know not what the words mean."

"We'll die out here!" Val shouted back to him. Now almost a hundred wights were climbing towards them and there were even two Others behind them screeching orders.

Hastram was bleeding from his hand wound, but had picked up his sword and was shouting his battle cries. Angus had his spear thrust in front of him as did Val. They were five against a hundred…and Lightbringer wouldn't save them this time, for its power was still muted, and there were no little girls with blue eyes to kill.

"The cave!" Jon shouted. "Ghost! To me!" But Ghost had run down the side of snowy mountain and he had leaped at a wight and was already fighting to ripped its head off. Jon got a brief flash and the taste of foul flesh in his mind and almost gagged. "Ghost!" he yelled but the direwolf was too intent on attacking.

"Hurry!" Sam was shouting from the cave mouth and he was already inside. "JON!"

Jon followed him and soon all were inside. Lightbringer was strong enough to light the darkness. It was a mine entrance they could now see, with old wooden beams framing a more square entrance at the back. That way they went, into a long tunnel and here they stopped. As Sam helped Hastram bind his hand, the rest watched the entrance.

No one came…including Ghost. Jon reached out his mind but could not connect with him…and he was afraid.

"I must find Ghost."

"You will die out there and we will all be lost," Val said and he knew she was right.

They waited a while, all ready to fight, but no enemies came into the cave.

"Maybe they cannot come in here, like Bran's cave under the tree," Sam said. "He said the wights could not get in, did he not?"

"He did," Jon remembered. "But we cannot go out either."

"Maybe there is another way out," Hastram said.

"We must look," Angus suggested.

Jon knew they had no choice. They had left their backpacks and food and wood down by the dead village. Find a way out or die of starvation and the cold.

He led the way, down the tunnel, with Lightbringer lighting the way. Val came behind him with Sam next and Hastram and Angus making the rearguard. Deep the tunnel went and then suddenly ahead was a larger chamber. As Jon stepped into the area the ceiling and walls on all sides disappeared and he could not see where they were. He stepped forward and stopped himself just in time from going off the end of a ledge and into a deep chasm.

"Stop!" he said and all came to a halt. He moved along the chasm's edge and could not see the far side or how deep it was.

"There! A bridge!" said Val. To the left she was pointing and Jon saw it now, an arch of stone covered with ice was spanning the chasm. It was thin, no more than two men wide, and it had no railings or ropes and anything for security while crossing.

"We must be careful," Jon said. "Follow slowly and not too close. We know not what is on the other side."

Out he walked, cautiously testing the bridge of ice and stone, and found it to be solid. He feared Lightbringer's heat must cause the ice to melt and make it slippery, but the heat was so low and the light so muted it was not a danger.

Val came behind him, then Sam, and the two big men came last. Jon was halfway across the bridge before he could see the other side. There was a wide ledge and a set of stairs carved into stone going up.

"A way out perhaps," he said.

Then they all heard the growl. Jon spun and in the weak light they saw a large shape appear at the end of the bridge they had come from. It was a bear, white, and massive, standing on its hind legs, taller than two men, and with teeth and claws that could rip them to shreds. For a moment Jon thought it was a wight but the bear looked whole and there was no reflection of blue from its eyes.

"Run!" Jon shouted but it was too late. The white bear pounced across the bridge and with one claw it swiped at Hastram as the big wildling tried to stab it with his sword. He must have struck home for the bear howled but in a heartbeat Hastram was struck back and the claws sliced through his throat and he was flung off the icy bridge and fell with a gargled scream.

"DIE!" Angus yelled and he stabbed the white bear with his boar spear, the point sinking deep into its chest, and the bear howl with rage and pain and reared up. Val ran back and with her spear struck the bear lower on its belly and red blood blossomed out onto its white fur.

"Off the bridge!" Angus yelled at her. "Push it off…no!"

The bear had swung its huge front leg down on the boar spear and snapped it in two and then its claws slice into Angus' face and torn away huge chunks of flesh and half his face was turned into a bloody pulp. Angus struggled to breathe and spewed red blood onto the bear's fur.

Sam was there by now with Longclaw out but he could not get past Angus and Val to strike home. Val's spear now snapped as well and the bear reached out to grab her.

"NO!" Jon's mind screamed at the bear…and it stopped. Jon suddenly felt he was the bear, and pain coursed through his body and he could see through its eyes, could see Angus' hands covering his face and stagger in pain and then see him slip and fall off the bridge, not making a sound as he fell. Now he could see Sam surge forward with Longclaw in hand and the blade was swinging and biting deep into the bear's neck.

The pain was too much and Jon's mind wrenched free…but not before he was overwhelmed and could not stand. He fell to the bridge and Lightbringer clattered out of his hand and was now spinning away below him. And then he felt his body dropping and falling and spinning and he could hear Sam and Val's screams…and then he felt no more.

When he came back to his senses he felt cold, a cold that went deep into his body and felt wrapped around his bones. He was lying in snow, deep snow. He dimly became aware that he was alive and seemed unharmed. He turned his head and found it worked, as did the rest of his limbs. Then a face loomed over him…a face made of ice. It reached out an icy hand and touched his cheek…and his blood turned to ice and Jon Snow screamed… but he did not die.

He was dragged, that much he remembered, taken to a cave nearby, and then he felt like he was sitting in a chair, but as his eyes adjusted to the dim light he realized it was a chair made of ice. His arms were pinned by his sides and then he couldn't move, frozen in the ice, stuck, and if not for his furs and gloves his skin would have been ice as well. His boots were also frozen solid and no matter how hard he struggled he could not move. Cold, so cold it was, and he wanted to scream from the pain of it.

The cave was made of ice, and how it was lit he couldn't tell, for he saw no torches or lanterns. Yet there was light, and it seemed to come from the walls, which were a pale blue color, as if he was looking through stained glass. The cave was not very big but it was high and he could not see the ceiling. There was one opening, an entrance.

Now Jon could hear music, a low sound, barely audible at first, but growing louder. It was not a song he recognized, for Jon Snow had little experience of music or songs other than the bawdy ones most of the men of the Watch knew. The life in the shadows he had led at Winterfell left no room for bastards to be taught how to play or sing.

Yet the song somehow got to him. It was sad and the words he now heard, words sung by a man with a golden voice…words about loss, lost hopes, dreams, and love. His mind drifted and he was not sure if he was awake or asleep. Then he remembered he was a prisoner and all he could think of was escaping and he struggled to get out of his trap.

"It's no use," said a voice from behind him. "You cannot get free that way." He now saw the man as he came into view. He was tall and dressed in black velvets with red ticking, and had a long red cloak and high black boots. He had long silvery colored hair and very blue, almost purple eyes. Jon had heard such people described before but he had never met one…except Maester Aemon. The man was a Targaryen and in his hands was a silver harp.

"Who are you?" Jon asked, fearing the answer.

"Your father, Jon." His voice was soft and pleasant to hear.

"Lies. He is dead."

"So, you do believe Rhaegar Targaryen is your father?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Lord Stark told me so."

"Maybe he is the liar. Maybe he is really your father, and not me."

"What…no…you are trying to confuse me. You can't be Rhaegar Targaryen. He died on the Trident."

"Did he? How do you know?"

"I was told…it is a common story."

"Yes…a common story. There are many common stories…about how I kidnapped and raped Lyanna, your mother."

"That is also a lie."

"Ah…so you know the truth of that. Yes, I loved her with all my heart and she loved me," Rhaegar told him. His eyes took on a sadness and Jon felt himself feeling the same but then shook his head.

"No…this is not real…you are not real…you can't be. You are dead."

Rhaegar shrugged. "Maybe we are both dead."

Jon gasped. "No…I feel…I…"

"How do you know what being dead is like, Jon?"

"I don't," Jon admitted. "So…maybe we are dead. Then why am I a prisoner?"

"Ah, finally the right question. Yes, why indeed. Not my prisoner, I assure you. Let us change that. You have my blood Jon, the blood of the dragons. You only need to know this and you will be free."

"I don't understand."

"Blood can be ice or fire, Jon. Ice, cold and as strong as iron, can break worlds, ground down mountains, carve rivers and lakes, and bring death wherever it goes. But the summer suns can melt ice, as can a flame on a torch. So which is more powerful….fire or ice?"

"Fire."

"Yes…but why is ice dominating your world now...why is ice making you a prisoner?"

"I…you're confusing me. Stop it."

Rhaegar sighed. "This is not going to be easy." He seemed to be talking to someone outside of Jon's vision, behind him.

"Be patient, my love," said a new voice, a woman's voice. She walked into view and Jon gasped.

She was not tall nor short, slim but with a seeming strength in her body. She had long brown hair and grey eyes, and a long, soft face that smiled. She wore leathers and furs, as if going on a hunt, and the fur cloak she wore had a silver direwolf clasp holding it around her shoulders.

Jon knew who she was. "Mother?" he asked, the words sounding like a croak as his throat tightened.

"Yes, my son…my poor son," Lyanna Stark said as she walked up to him and touched her bare left hand to his right cheek and Jon felt tears spring to his eyes and roll down his cheeks where they froze in his beard. "A man you have become," she said as she stepped back. "I am sorry my brother had to lie all those years. With my last breath I asked him to do so to protect you. Robert…his rage would have been so great…I feared for you if he ever knew the truth."

"All you did made me the man I am today," Jon said.

"So little we did," Rhaegar told him as he stood by Lyanna and put a hand on her shoulder.

"You gave me life."

"And now we must give you more," Lyanna replied. "You must know who you are to escape."

"I am not dead?"

"No," she said, giving a sideways glance at Rhaegar. "Your father was testing you. Or maybe you were testing yourself. For we are in your mind, Jon, trying to help you before it is too late. You have the dragon's blood…use it, awake the dragon within. They are coming for you soon…he is coming for you, to kill you. You must escape."

At last he understood. He was made of fire and ice…but the fire would set him free. He closed his eyes and concentrated, thinking of fire and heat and being warm and of blood…his blood…given to him by these two people who loved each other for a brief time. If he died here all they had done for him would have been for nothing.

Hot he began to feel, growing more so, feeling as if his body was gripped by a fever, so hot, almost on fire, and the ice trapping his arms and legs began to melt, slowly at first, but then it was calving off the chair and the ice chair itself began to melt and Jon felt himself falling and then…he was free.

He stood quickly and shook off the ice still clinging to his furs. "Thank you." But they were gone. "In my head," Jon said to himself. "But I thank you anyway…Father, Mother."

He went through the cave entrance and he found himself in a tunnel. A light at the end he could see and he went towards it and soon was in another cave. This was much bigger and he could see the walls and ceiling made of ice crystals, with light coming through them and giving the room a dim bluish hue. He saw an entrance on the far side and was about to head that way when suddenly a tall figure emerged from it…an Other, with a sword at its side.

It walked into the cave and behind it were many of its kind, all with swords at their icy hips. To the sides of the cave they walked until they surrounded Jon. He could not go back for that was to a dead end. He had to go forward…but how?

Then another figure joined them…and this was no Other, but a man. He was tall and slim, with a long cloak of black material so dark it seemed to absorb the very light in the cave. He wore a black leather jerkin and breeches, black boots and gloves. His head and face were hidden by the cloak's cowl and by what seemed like a mask of dark cloth.

"Welcome, Jon Snow," said the man, his voice soft and clear, with no accent of any type. "I expected to find you in the far chamber…but it is of no matter."

"You know my name and see my face," Jon replied, trying to be brave, wondering if this was at last the Great Other he sought. "I would have the same of you."

"Few ever want to see my face, for when they do it is the last thing they ever see."

"If I am to die I will know my enemy."

"As you wish," the man said. He reached up and pulled back the cowl and then with a wave of his hand the cloth mask seemed to disappear.

Jon expected some hideous twisted visage to appear before him, for what other kind of man would be with the Others. Yet he was neither hideous nor handsome, just rather…plain. He had dark eyes, of a brown so dark it was almost black, and heavy eyebrows, and thick black hair that fell to his shoulders. He sported a small, spade shaped beard and mustache below a straight, long nose, and his lips were thin and pursed. He was much older than Jon, of an age even older than Lord Stark, Jon guessed, but he had few lines on his face and no grey in his hair.

"I would have your name," Jon repeated.

The man stepped past the Others and made a small gesture and they retreated back a few steps. "My names are as many as my faces," said the man. "For I am known by all yet none see me as the same. In each land and for each people I have a name and a face. For some I am not a man, but a woman, or a beast, or an unknowable entity. Yet all know my gift at the end, for no one can escape who I am or what I represent."

"If this a riddle and you are trying to cozen me, I will not be easily fooled."

"No riddles, Jon Snow. You have known me many times, though I had no face and no body. Many received my gift from you…as you may soon receive the same. Qhorin Halfhand for one you gave the gift, and many wildings besides him."

"What gift? I killed the Halfhand and…" Now Jon understood. A gift he had given to them this man claimed…the gift of death. So that made him…

"Death? Is that who you claim to be. How can you be death? There is no man who is death. Death…it just is."

"No, it is not. Death has a name as I just told you, and many people worship death, and so as long as even one worships, death will have…life. In many lands and cultures they have a mythos surrounding me. In the one I truly belong to, I was once a man like you Jon Snow, so I know what life is and how cruel and unjust it is."

"I don't believe you. If you were a man these things around us would have killed you long ago."

The man sighed. "I see this requires the telling of a long tale. As I said there are many such tales of my origins in many lands, so I will tell you one you may have some familiarity with…the one that is more true of me than any others. Are you prepared to hear it?"

Time he needed, to think of a way out of here, to hope his friends somehow survived and could find him, and so a long story would suit his needs well. "As you wish."

"I am from the lands men call Essos, originally, the Rhoyne River region to be exact and later I lived in the Andalos Hills," the man said. "Have you ever heard of the Faith of the Seven that originated there thousands of years past?"

"Many in Westeros worship the Seven."

"Yet do they know they were six once, not seven?" the man asked.

"I know not," Jon said. "What has this to do with your origins?"

"Patience, Jon Snow. A soldier I was in those days, in service to a lord of the Rhoyne River clans. The words I use are your words, for we had words in our speech for 'lord' and 'clan' which you would not understand as to their deeper meanings. The word lord as you know it in Westeros cannot describe our relationship with our lords. It was as if we were part of his family, as one with him, as if he was our father, not our master. If our lord fell in battle, we did not simply come under the power of his son or his brother or another. We would be leaderless men until we could avenge him and when that was done we could offer our services to another lord. But no lord would take us until our lord was avenged, for why should they if we had allowed our lord to die and not bring down his killers? So we were obliged to revenge his death no matter the odds and could not find solace until that revenge was complete. But my dilemma was greater for my lord fell and I was taken prisoner all on the same day. All of my surviving clansman fell on their swords rather than face such a fate, for to be a prisoner meant enslavement with no chance to avenge our lord. Yet I balked and was grabbed and bound before I could complete the task. I was a coward."

"It would take a special kind of bravery to kill oneself," Jon said.

"You are kind to say so, but my soul could not be salved by such thoughts then or now. I managed to escape my binds when we stopped for a rest a few days later. I knew who had slain our lord for I had seen him strike the blow. He was the eldest son of the lord of the clan that had defeated us. It was my duty to kill him, but there were none of my people around to witness my deed. None who could vouch my act to the other clans and lords. And if I killed this son I knew I would be surrounded and cut down or killed in some hideous way. So I decided on another kind of revenge. I was well crafted in the art of stealth, being a scout for our clan. I managed to steal the son's dagger, unknown to him, and in the night I crept into his father's tent and stabbed him in the heart and left the dagger there. When they found the body I hoped all would think the son had done it. Then I made my escape and was long gone by morning."

"Maybe they blamed you when they noticed you had escaped."

"Maybe. But I am sure my act caused much doubt and dissension in that clan. I did learn much later that the son took over, but few would follow him and later still he was overthrown by his uncle, brother of the man I killed."

Jon grew impatient despite his need to make time stand still. "What has this to do with the Seven?"

"All in good time. After I escaped I wandered, a lone man with no clan and no lord. I became a mercenary and joined a company, what you would call sellswords now. We fought in many battles, and killed all, men, woman, children, the brave and strong, the old and weak. We burned and plundered and raped. I was of two minds of this life. I enjoyed much of it, yet much of it sickened me as well, and one day I just walked away. Over the hills to the west I went and long I walked. Some companions on occasion I had, and one tried to kill me in the night to steal my good bronze sword and other things. But I knew his heart was set on this and I killed him first. Finally I came on a large walled village in the Andalos Hills. Here I found need of my skills in battle for they had been attacked by roving bands. A wise man and his wife were their leaders, and a fair young girl was their daughter. An old woman was a healer and advisor to them. A young man with a pure heart was leader of their guard. An old blacksmith of the Rhoyne people knew the secret of iron and made strong weapons and armor for the warriors, horseshoes and plows for the nearby farmers."

"Gods…"

"Yes...gods they became…the Father and Mother, the Crone and Warrior, the Smith and the Maiden. And I came to them…a stranger."

"The…Stranger?" Jon croaked, for now he understood which of the Seven was missing and why they had once been six.

"Yes…what do you know of the Stranger, Jon?"

He had been looking for the Great Other, not the Stranger…but could the two be the same? Could the Great Other only be death in the religion of the Lord of Light? He grasped that maybe 'the Great Other' was just a name to talk about death…or what no one truly understood. Yet this man could not be the Stranger, for he knew that the Faith of the Seven rose thousands of years after the first Long Night. Or maybe this was not the enemy he sought, just one of his servants. Or maybe he was lying and trying to confuse Jon…yet why would he, when Jon was surrounded and had no weapon and could easily be killed. Still, he needed time and so he drew out the talks. Time to test him. "I know little of the Seven. But I do know the first Long Night was long before the Seven came to Westeros."

"Yes, true…but how long did people pray to the Seven in Essos before the faith came here? How many years? Even your wisest men know not. And when was the first Long Night? Eight thousand years ago…or was it much fewer years in the past than men realize?"

"The Night's Watch is as old as that and it was made to defend the realms of men from the Others."

"Was it? Or was it first made to defend the Others against the realms of men?"

"What? No, that's nonsense. You're trying to trick me."

The man smiled and it was neither pleasant nor sadistic, but rather a smug look, as if he knew everything and Jon knew nothing. "Let us agree that no one knows when these things happened or why they happened," the man said. "But I asked you a question. What do you know of the Seven?"

Jon gritted his teeth and wanted nothing more to do with the man who had insulted his order, but still he needed time. "My lord's wife brought up her children in the Faith of the Seven, but spent no time trying to teach me, for she thought I was her husband's bastard and despised me. So I took my lord's gods as my own."

"Lord Stark you speak of. His gods are the old gods. They are strong in the North and in your bloodline. The old gods are the wind and the rocks, the trees and the earth…but they are not as strong as I."

"Yet you live in a cave."

The man ignored the sally. "As I was saying…I came to them as a stranger and the Stranger I became. Long I lived with them, and helped protect them, and the village grew to be a town and then a city. The people flocked to the hills, to farm and fish and hunt, to trade and build, and to have their families grow, and happiness and goodness filled the land. I became a great leader, but I was not loved, for people were wary of me. I knew all the ways to kill and win by deceit, and my heart could never be rid of the joy I felt in battle and in defeating an enemy and people saw this in my eyes when the madness of battle was on me. My opposite was the Warrior, he light and I dark. He was pure of heart and forthright and would never do anything to bring shame on himself or the society we lived in. When foul deeds needed doing they called on me. I tortured enemies when necessary. I led dawn raids on enemy camps, killing by surprise and stealth those who might destroy us in open yet fair battle. I executed men with my sword, and I knew some of those men were innocent of the crimes they had been accused of by my people."

"Bitterness drips from every word."

"Still it does, after these long years of my exile. For yes, this is what I am, Jon Snow, an exile you see before you. I was suffered by the people, for I was useful. The Crone told them to keep me and they listened to her wise words. Yet, I wanted more than to be a tool to be used when needed. I wanted to be loved and have a woman and have a family and children to care for me in my old age. Sadly, my eyes only sought the favor of the daughter, the one who became the Maiden of the Faith. She was for the Warrior we all knew, when she came of the right age and blossomed. He loved her, and she him, yet this paradigm of virtue would not marry her for he knew some day he would fall in battle and would break her heart. So no one married her, and she remained a maid, untouched…or so the septons tell their sheep."

"Not untouched…what happened?"

"My lust for her was too great…and she was willing and came to me often in the night. I knew she did it to spite the Warrior, yet I cared not. I see you don't believe me, but it is true. When we were discovered, the Father and Mother's rage was great. The Maiden did not defend me, claimed I raped her, and so I was to be killed. Then the Crone spoke, and I was spared. 'Cast him out,' she declared. 'Let this man be a stranger to all. Send out the word. His face no one shall know. His name no one shall speak. No food or fire will he be given within our domain. Let him serve as a lesson to all who have evil in their hearts. Let his name die, let his face die, let him die…alone.' And even then their power was so great none dare oppose this order. So I was sent out, with nothing but the clothes on my back, after all I had done for them, countless times I had saved them and done their foul work. A stranger I became again…this time forever."

"But you survived…for how long?"

"Ages uncounted. For in the Faith of the Seven I became the nameless, faceless one…I became death, as I am death in many other cultures and lands. This is but one origin story, but somehow this former life I remember most of all. I was cast out of society, of paradise, and left to wander the cold, harsh lands. And my heart became stone. I killed and stole and used all the wiles I had learned to survive. Men hunted me, but all I killed, and soon no more hunted me. People saw me coming and fled and food left on their table and in their pantries I ate. Ages passed. I did not grow aged…I did not die. And then one day I felt no hunger or thirst. I felt no cold or warmth. How old I was I do not remember. I was still shunned by all…yet I lived. The world I wandered, all of Essos I mean, for that was the only world I knew. In time I came back to where I had been cast out. And then I gradually began to understand why I still lived. All became clear one day. I came to a small village. There I found a sept, though at the time I knew not what to call the structure. Inside were seven small wooden statues…and I knew those faces. The Father, the Mother, the Crone, the Maiden, the Warrior, and the Smith. And one more, without a face. An old man was lighting candles. I asked him why this one had no face. He said he was the Stranger, he was death, and death needed no face, for no one wanted to know what death looked like. That enraged me so that I cut off his face and slapped the bloody flesh on the statue."

Jon was gaping at him now. "You killed an old man for telling you the truth?"

He laughed. "Jon…after all I told you of me why does this surprise you? I began to understand it all after I did that. I was alive because people worshiped me…worshiped evil and death…in their way. Men who wanted to kill their enemies, to rape their own daughters, to drowned their aged fathers, to steal their neighbor's lands, to bring war and death on all…these people worshiped me…and so my power grew. I did not die. I became part of a faith, the Faith of the Seven, one aspect of men's beliefs. As long as men believed, I would have power. I ascended, as did the others, I became a god…the god of death in the Faith of the Seven."

"I don't believe in you."

He laughed again, and a cold laugh it was. "Yet here I am, and you are powerless."

"Why does no one know this tale? All who spoke of the leader of the Others call you the Great Other."

"The priests and priestesses of the Lord of Light you mean. Their words have power to make people believe, even you it seems. You must know they seek only power, power over men's hearts. All such people must have an enemy to direct the fear and anger of their subjects."

"Then why do they not know you as the Stranger even here in Westeros?"

"I told you I have many names and many faces, yet all men must know me some day. As for your question, I came to Westeros before the Faith of the Seven spread here, ages before, so no one knew what I was or of my connection with the Seven. My first wars were against the First Men and the Children of the Forest. But in Essos, in the Andalos Hills, meanwhile the faith grew and spread. The story I told you was written in the original Seven-Pointed Star. I found a copy in that sept. The whole tale was there, how the wise Father and Mother and the rest built a society and all loved them so much they worshiped them as gods when they died. All that nonsense about Hugor Hill and the seven stars coming down to the earth and all that was claptrap that later generations of septons added to hide the real truth. We were just people…who became gods."

"You said the rest died…why didn't you?"

"I know not. Maybe I am dead, and this manifestation you see before you is what you wish to see. Maybe I am only in your head."

"Perhaps, but you are no one I know."

"Then I am flesh."

If he was flesh, he could die. "Why so far north? It's bloody cold up here."

Now his demeanor grew dark. "I was never meant to live in these lands. The warmth I craved…even if I could not feel it…but again I was shunned. Wherever I went evil followed, even in Westeros, and people feared me and so I had no love of anyone. So I decided to punish them all, the whole world. I felt my powers grow, felt I could do unthinkable things, and so I could. I remembered the cold days I spent on the roads, moving from village to village, town to town, and being cold and often afraid and very hungry. I could think of no greater punishment to inflict on the world. Let them be cold, let them grow hungry, let them know how I felt for those long years…let them know me…let them know death. I began to gather power to me…a few followers, men who worshiped me in Westeros…and from these men I began to gather my armies. Their children they gave to me, their boys…and from these boys I made the first Others as you call my children."

"Craster was one," Jon said.

"Yes…from his loins and other worshipers I have rebuilt my great corps of lieutenants to command my renewed wight armies. There are more than him who gave me nothing but their desires, men in secret places, who will worship me always. In Braavos there is a whole order dedicated to me and they give the gift to those who ask or who pay to give to others. My power grows from such people."

"You speak of fantastical things that make no sense."

"Fantastical only to your mind, Jon Snow, because you grew in an age where there was no such power, until now. Did not the dead rise and attack your precious Wall and all south of it? Are they not now before the gates of King's Landing?"

"So far already?"

"Yes…I see you believe and know it to be true."

"Men have risen as well, men with good hearts and strong steel and fire and dragonglass. I know this to be true as well. They will defeat your armies!"

"Perhaps….and so I will try again at a later age when men once more forget. I have time, nothing but time. Or maybe this time I will succeed in making all the world a cold land where all are hungry and afraid or in my service. Now three human armies are approaching my own army…three armies separated by distance and mistrust. I think it is time to crush them all. I have ordered my commanding lieutenant to linger by the capital to draw in all the might of Westeros to that place. Now they are coming…and I will crush them one by one before they can join and with each army's death my ranks grow and then I will raze the capital and spread to all corners of the world!"

"You can't!"

"I can! I will!"

"You will be stopped again, like before!"

"Stopped, yes…but never defeated…shut up in here by magic of old…but the magic weakens. Oh, I have good years and bad ones. When men have evil in their hearts my power grows and winter comes and lasts for years. When common good will and love for their fellow men prevails long summers bless your lands. Robert Baratheon was one such good man. He destroyed the power of an evil man…for the wrong reason as you know. Yet he sat on his laurels and did nothing to rid the land of the cancer of evil. Rebellion and strife still simmered for a while…and then things settled down and so summer grew and lasted for nearly ten years. But around him swirled unseen treachery…and so he died and war began…and my power grew again."

"I will stop you!"

And now his laughter was cold and harsh and Jon could hear the contempt underneath the laughter. "You cannot destroy me, no one can. Evil will always have a place in the world. People who talk about a world without evil are dreamers. But you can join me Jon Snow. I will spare you and those you love. Join me. Worship me."

"Never!"

The man shrugged. "As I expected." And then the man disappeared.

It was so sudden and unexpected Jon did not know what to do. "Was it all in my head?" Jon thought…but no, not all, the Others in the cave were real enough. They raised their swords and advanced on Jon. He was surrounded, and had no where to go, and knew he was about to die. If only he had a weapon at least he could put up a fight…but what could kill them except dragonglass and Valyrian steel and fire…

Fire…he was fire.

"Yes!" said his mother, suddenly appearing at his side and in her hands was a bow, with a quiver of arrows on her back and notched in the bow was an arrow with a dragonglass arrowhead…but it couldn't be real…could it?

"You are fire, my son," his father told him, now appearing behind him. No longer was the harp in his hands. Instead there was a long sword, gleaming in the dim light of the cave and Jon knew from experience it was made of the smoky grey metal called Valyrian steel.

The Others screeched and charge forward. The bow twanged and an Other screamed and disappeared in a cloud of snow. In a heartbeat Lyanna had another arrow notched and on the way and one more Other disappeared. Behind him Jon heard more screams as Rhaegar waded into the fray and dispatched Others with his sword.

But there were too many, and Jon knew not if it was all real or in his head and maybe he was already dead. Yet he had to survive to know the truth. He had to summon fire…but how?

"Believe," said a new voice and there was a new man, young and tall and clean shaven, his skin more brown than white, his eyes a deep dark brown, as was his short hair. He wore dark clothing, with chain mail under furs, and a long black cape, and Jon knew them to be the clothing of the Night's Watch. In his hands the man held a sword…a sword Jon knew…Lightbringer.

"That's my sword!" Jon shouted. "Give it to me!"

"It was my sword to begin," the man calmly said. "I forged it and made it as it is with the blood of the one I loved."

Now Jon knew the face, the face of the statue of the man in the crypts of Winterfell… Azor Ahai. "No…you are dead…you can't be here."

"Dead I am…as are your parents. Yet our spirit lives in you Jon Snow. I am Azor Ahai, the first Prince…you are my heir, through the blood of the two who fight by your side, through the blood of fire and ice…now you must believe or all will be lost. Believe you are fire…let my power come forth!"

And Jon did believe…already knew it was true, had proved it when he was trapped in the ice chair, and he felt the heat building again, to an intensity he could barely stand. It felt as if his whole body was on fire. And then his mother and father and the Prince were gone…and an Other was standing over him with a great sword. It screeched and Jon could somehow understand its words. "Now you die."

"No," Jon said and the flames burst forth and swept the cave from side to side, floor to ceiling in a blinding suffocating inferno through which Jon heard hideous screams, his own and that of the Others. All the ice melted and Jon's furs and clothes and boots and even his chain mail burned to tatters and fell as ash and slag to the stone floor. His hair and beard were soon gone as well but his skin remained untouched.

Suddenly the fire was gone…and he was alone. His parents were gone and so were all the Others. Suddenly an overwhelming weakness overcame his body and Jon sagged to the floor. He felt drained, as if he could never move again.

"It takes much of you," said Azor Ahai. "You could not do it again for many days I think. I once had this power as well…and it near killed me the few times I used it. You will need this to continue the fight."

Something dropped to the stone floor by his head…Lightbringer. "Gods, how can it be here?" Jon gasped. He had dropped it over the icy bridge…was he there now, in the deep snow still? Was it all a dream or was it real? He felt his face and head…no hair…his body…no clothes…that much was real at least.

He found the strength somehow, and got to his knees and feet and picked up the sword. It was real, and sprang to life, giving off heat and light…but once more it was muted and dull and not of the power he needed to kill his enemy…to kill death. But how can I kill death, he thought?

"You can't kill him," said Azor Ahai.

"You're in my head, you know my thoughts."

"Yes."

"Was the rest also in my head? Was he?"

"No…the rest was real. He is real…even after all this time."

"Is he the Stranger?"

"So he said."

"What do you mean?"

"This story is new to me," Azor Ahai said.

"So he could be the Stranger?"

"Maybe. Our world has many people, cultures, languages, history…yet all have one thing in common. Death comes to all men. Each culture has their symbols and notions of what death means and what happens after death. In parts of Essos and Westeros the Seven hold sway and the Stranger is the representative of death. So he told you this story so you would have a grasp and understand it. To another person from another culture he may have told a different tale, shown a different face. He has many."

"But I believe in the old gods, not the Seven."

"He does not understand the old gods, does not know why people believe in them. He fears the old gods…he fears you."

"Why?"

"The old gods are of a power greater than death…they are life."

"Life is greater than death?"

"Life is life, Jon. But death is…nothing."

"Yet death even comes to those who worship the old gods."

"Yes. When I came to Westeros, I found the First Men and they all worshiped the old gods. They worshiped the life that was in all things, great and small. And of all the people I have known in this world, the First Men were of the few who did not fear death. They accepted it as part of life, that death came to all men, and it was not something to be feared, but something to be accepted as an inevitability. It cannot be stopped, it cannot be changed, it cannot be avoided. It just is…so why fight it or fear it?"

As he said these words Jon understood many things. He understood why he felt calm in battle and felt no fear of death. Fears he had, of failing his friends, his family, the Watch…but never fear for himself.

"Why does this god of death desire revenge?"

"I think it is not revenge...but a craving. The god of death is never loved, yet he needs worshipers as do all gods. How few people in the world pray for death, for his gift? Not many I would think. Yet what greater way to make the world bow to him than kill everyone and have them serve him as wights?"

What better way indeed. "How did you defeat him last time?"

"We destroyed his armies…he was all alone and powerless."

"Powerless? I just saw him disappear from this room."

"I think that was not him, but a projection he can cast. We shut him in a inner cave…he can never escape it."

"Can I kill him at least?"

"No…we could not. He was our prisoner. Time after time we took his head from his body, crushed him, drowned him, burned him…and each time he rose whole again. Finally we gave up and the old gods gave us wisdom and we carved the runes and cast the spells and shut him away. All you can do now is stop his armies. You must leave this place, Jon, and go south to King's Landing to save the armies of men."

"But what of the god of death, this cave?"

"He is here and he cannot leave. If the world is overrun he still cannot leave…the old magic is the magic of the old gods, gods that have been here since the dawn of time, and he is their prisoner now, though even they cannot totally destroy him. He is the god of death, and death will always be part of the world. Destroy his armies, bring peace to the world as we once did. Teach the children all you know, all that must be done to defend the realms of men. Teach them not to fear death, that it is part of life. Watch for the enemy to grow again and if he does be vigilant and stop him again. Remember your oath. You are the watcher."

Jon felt an immense burden as his words sank in. "Will it never end?"

"No. Never. Evil will always find some corner to hide in men's hearts. But it can be kept caged. As long as good people stand up to evil, it will not prevail. Come, you must hurry. It is time for one more task…the real reason you are here."

Azor Ahai walked out of the cave and Jon's weak legs followed, into another similar cave. On they walked, and more caves Jon came to, all empty, and he despaired of ever finding his way out of here. Yet light was coming from somewhere…and then he looked up and saw light coming from above, and fresh air, but the holes were so high up and the walls so sheer he could never climb there. He wondered where Ghost was, and Bran's raven, and if Sam and Val still lived, but he had no answers. He began to think he would die down here, and said so to Azor Ahai but his companion assured him there was a way out. And he was right for soon they came to a set of stairs. Up he went, to another level, and more caves, and then more rooms and in one he found an old fur, musty, and aged, but he wrapped himself in it and felt better.

Finally they came out through a tunnel by a great chasm and Jon knew where he was. The icy bridge was there and the set of stars he had seen before his fall as well. Now he was on the far side from the cave's entrance. Up the stairs he went and when the stairs came to an end there was a door, a real door, not a cave entrance. It was made of wood with iron bands around it. And on this door and all around it in the stone were the same sort of rune symbols that had been carved into the stone outside the main cave entrance.

"Here he resides, for all eternity," Azor Ahai told him.

"Then why do I need confront him? I should just leave."

"You will die if you just leave. His armies await you out there…and you are not ready."

Azor Ahai looked at Lightbringer and Jon understood. "A sacrifice I must make."

"Yes. My wife I loved with all my heart and by sacrificing her I saved mankind all those years ago. You will never escape this land and never have a chance to do what must be done unless you make the sacrifice."

"But there is no one I love. Ygritte is dead."

"Look into your heart, Jon. There is someone you love."

"Who?"

"You will soon know. The god of death cannot leave this cave, but he can bring others into it. He now has two of your companions."

"Sam! Val!"

Jon grasped the door handle and tore it open. He stepped over the threshold and was in a room, not a cave, and the door closed behind him. The room seemed made of stone, smoothed, and of a brown shade. There were no windows and no other doors. The room was not wide nor the ceiling high. Two torches were set on the walls. He felt warm and the room also had a large hearth with a fire in it. A shelf of books was on the right side and a big bed to the left and a large table was in the center. On the table was laid out a feast of many kinds of wonderful food.

Jon gasped as he saw Sam and Val here as well, sitting in two chairs, one at each of the ends of the long table, Sam to his left, Val to his right. Sam and Val were tied to the chairs and had gags in their mouths. Each looked with wide eyes to him and then to the hearth, where a wide high chair was facing the fire. Jon stepped forward to the table just as a man in the chair by the fire stood. It was the god of death, the Stranger…the enemy. And in his hands was a sword Jon knew well…Longclaw.

"Ah, so you managed to escape my servants. Are they destroyed?"

"Aye, all."

"Not to worry. I will make more. I see you have your sword again. Not that it will do you any good. Was it fire you killed them with? Yes, I can smell it on you, and your clothing and hair are gone…but you remain undamaged. An old trick I know well. Well then, should we sit and enjoy one last meal before you die."

"I thought you needed no food."

"I don't but any companions I bring here do. Sit…eat."

"Release my friends first," he demanded.

"Friends only are they? I thought one was your lover."

"She is."

"And the other?"

"My friend."

"Yet you love him as well?"

"As a friend, aye. He…" And Jon understood.

"Yes, friendships can be wonderful…so I hear. I had never the luxury, even as a child. The other children sensed something in me, I…"

"Enough lies!" Jon said and he brought Lightbringer up…but it was still cold, without fire in it, just a sword.

"A sword without power," the Stranger said. "You do know its history, yes?"

"Aye. What tales I have heard at least."

"Not tales, the truth. Azor Ahai killed his own wife to forge a sword to defeat me…yet in the end he wasted her precious blood for I can never be defeated."

"Not a waste…the sword destroyed his armies, and will again," said Azor Ahai from Jon's side…or in his head, but it mattered not, for Jon took comfort in having the hero still near. The Stranger seemed not to notice the newcomer, and Jon knew now for certain he must only be in his head.

"Not a waste," Jon said to the Stranger. "He and Bran the Builder destroyed your armies and shut you in here. They built the Wall to keep your armies from the realms of men. They made the Watch to guard the realms of men. They…"

"And you failed to guard those realms, didn't you?" the Stranger sneered as he stood on the other side of the table. "Now all people will only serve me. Do you know High Valyarian, Jon Snow?"

"Some few words…why?" Jon asked, wondering at the strange turn in the conversation.

"There is a phrase…valar morghulis. It means 'all men must die'."

"There is no wisdom in that," Jon replied. "It is a fact that every person must know is true."

"Yet they fight the dying of the light in their eyes with every last breath. Why?"

"Because life is sweet."

"No…because they know not what lies on the other side of life and they are afraid."

"I am not afraid."

"No? No, I see you do not lie. You have the blood of the First Men in you and worship the old gods. Gods without substance, without texture…yet gods still. Well, man without fear, I'll tell you what awaits for you…nothing. A darkness without end, the long sleep…oblivion. Yet I offer hope. There is another saying, said in reply to valar morghulis. It is valar dohaeris…'all men must serve' it means. The origin of the two phrases most men do not understand. They think that in reply they mean that all men must first serve in life before death comes for them. Yet that is not the origin. After my first attempt at conquest the saying arose, long before Valyria even existed. The phrases are said in many languages across the world, but the positioning is the same. It was a warning you see, that people died…and then served. They serve me after death, in my wight armies. As will you and your two companions here."

And then the Stranger advanced on Sam and raised Longclaw to Sam's throat. Sam squirmed and his eyes went wide and his face paled.

"Stop!" Jon shouted.

The Stranger stopped and grinned. He then walked to Val. "Shall it be her then? I will make a deal with you. Pick one, Jon Snow. Pick one to die…and I will let the other leave before I kill you. I will not kill her or him later. I will never kill him or her, even after my victory is complete. I will give him or her long life, longer than all men and women, for I am the god of death, the many faced god. I have that power."

"You lie and deceive me. They will both die. All men must die, you said."

"But I am death…I have the power. If you want one to live then you must believe I tell the truth."

Jon felt his heart clench. His two friends, one he knew now he loved…and the other was his lover. But if what Azor Ahai said was true, he had to sacrifice that which he loved. But he couldn't kill Sam…could not kill his friend, his brother in arms, who he loved as only men who fought in battle side by side can love one another. Jon knew this to be true now, that there was someone he loved.

"Don't make me choose," Jon said and he felt the tears roll down his bare cheeks.

"You must, Jon," Azor Ahai said in his mind. "Or all will be lost."

The Stranger sighed. "I am tired of this game. They will both die, now." He raised Longclaw over Val and her eyes screamed for help.

"NO!" Jon shouted. "I have decided."

The Stranger smiled and lowered the sword. "Very well. Which shall I kill?"

"None," Jon said and then he looked at Sam. "Forgive me, Sam," he gasped through his grief. Sam knew what he was about to do and why and he nodded once and in his eyes Jon saw the love Sam had for him. Then Jon closed his eyes briefly, said a prayer to the old gods for strength, and stepped forward and thrust Lightbringer deep into Sam's chest though fur and leather and chain mail as if it was butter, his thrust exactly where the heart was. Sam's eyes were not pleading or begging for life, they were accepting his own death, and Jon saw understanding there, that Sam knew why he was doing it. Jon wished it could be any other way, but it had to be done.

Sam's body convulsed and blood sprang forth around the sword blade. Jon saw and felt the blade spring into life with intense heat and light and the furs and leather and chain mail around the sword melted into nothing. Jon pulled out the blade and with a shock he saw through his tears that Sam's heart had come out with it. The heart sizzled and burned and the blood flowed down the blade and soaked in the blade and the blade absorbed the blood as the heart burned to ash.

Now Lightbringer blazed in all its glory and light filled the room. The Stranger screamed and hid his eyes with his hands. Jon saw he was afraid. Jon flung back the furs he wore and with a leap his naked body was on the table. He knew the god of death could not die but Jon wanted to see him hurt and felt he could do it now. Down he brought the blade on the Stranger's head as the Stranger thrust out wildly with Longclaw, trying to stab Jon in return, stab him in the face. But the light blinded even a god and Longclaw missed the true thrust, yet Jon's left cheek it connected with and sliced, but not too deep. Now Lightbringer sank into the Stranger's head and it bit deep and kept going and with all his weight Jon plunged the super heated blade through the god's head and body until he was split in two. The body's halves fell to the floor with a sickening thud, the two halves not bleeding much, the wounds sealed by the heat of the magic sword.

Jon turned to Sam and saw his friend's dead body sitting in the chair, a gaping hole in his chest. The gag had burned from Lightbringer's heat and so had some of the ropes. Jon reached out and pulled the burning gag off and then closed Sam's eyes forever.

"Why did you kill him?" said an angry voice in disbelief and it was Val, standing from her chair, pulling the still burning ropes off her body.

"A sacrifice," Jon said in a choked voice. "I had to kill what I loved to bring Lightbringer to full power."

"Then you should have killed me!"

"I…sorry…but…"

Her eyes were wet and she understood. "You don't love me."

"I'm sorry."

"Ygritte?"

"I promised myself not to love again after she died."

"Someday I will change your heart, Lord Snow." She took off her cloak and wrapped it around his naked body and hugged him tight and he hugged her back and wondered if what she said would ever come true for now his heart felt like stone.

Then they heard a sound, something below them moving, and they looked and with horror saw the two halves of the Stranger's body moving toward each other. On one half the mouth was mostly still there. And it spoke. "I am death. I cannot be killed Jon Snow," he said with glee.

"No, but your armies can," Jon said and he spat on death with the salty water from the tears that had flowed into his mouth, tears he had wept for his dead friend.

"Time to go," Azor Ahai said in his head and Jon wanted to tell him to shut up and never talk to him again for making him do what he did but all he felt was anguish.

He had one more task to do before he left. He would not let Sam become a wight. He placed Lightbringer on his furs and soon they caught fire and then the chair he was sitting in was on fire as well.

"He was mine! He must serve!" the Stranger screamed as his body began to come together again on the floor.

"He will never be yours," Jon said. "He will never serve evil."

Val picked up Longclaw from the floor and slid it into her belt. She grabbed Jon's hand and out the door they went and down the stairs and across the icy bridge where Angus and Hastram and the bear had died, their blood still on the ice. Then down the long tunnel and out into the cave and onto the mountain side they went.

"Gods," Val cursed as they stepped into the dull grey that passed for daylight. Jon saw why she was mad. It seemed like a thousand wights were waiting for them in the gloom of the semi-night. And then his heart wrenched again. There was Ghost, lying on the snowy ground, bleeding from many wounds, not ten feet away, not breathing…dead.

"GHOST!" Jon screamed and he cursed the old gods for letting this come to pass. "Not Ghost, too," he cried and he fell to his bare knees by his dead direwolf's body.

"Jon, they are coming!" Val shouted.

"Get inside the cave, Val," he said and as she stepped back inside Jon stood and let his grief and rage flow from him into the sword in his hands and down he went among them, almost as naked as the day he came into the world from his dead mother, and he slashed and hacked and killed a dozen before they were surrounding him. Then he let the full power of his rage loose. With one terrible flash Lightbringer burst forth with all his emotions and fire and light and heat destroyed every wight he saw. All around him the snow and ice melted and the stream by the village ruins began to flow again.

Then he went back to Ghost and saw he was on fire now as well. He collapsed on the ground by the burning body and he cried for what seemed like ages as Val held him and cradled his body in her arms.

How long they sat there he knew not. She wiped the blood from his cut cheek with a cloth that helped stop the bleeding. When she was done she helped him stand and then Jon looked at Ghost's burnt body.

"Goodbye old friend."

"Why didn't he become a wight?" Val asked after a moment.

Jon could guess. "Part of me was in him and he was not dead, not really, not while I lived."

They went down to the dead village on shaky legs…two alone in a wide world of emptiness and death. Jon felt empty of all and merely sat on a low stone wall of a former house's foundation. Val poked around in the remains of their bags and found a tattered pair of breeches that were once Hastram's, too big, but it was something to cover his nakedness. Little else had survived the heat of Lightbringer…except Sam's horn.

Val picked it up from the ashes of the burnt bags and tents. "Is this the horn you blew that caused the Wall to fall?"

"You know it is."

She took it to him and he shook his head 'no', not wanting that thing that had caused such pain for many, and Val just slipped it into her belt. She sat down next to him. "What happened to you and…Sam?" Jon asked her. Just saying his name was hard.

"After you fell the bear was dead. Sam said it must have been sleeping in the cave nearby and we awoke it's slumber. That's why it was angry. And hungry also perhaps. We shouted your name, and Hastram and Angus' as well, but no one answered. They were cut bad, and must be dead. How did you live?"

"I fell in deep snow…then they took me prisoner." He explained how and where he woke up, and all that happened to him, even about his parents and Azor Ahai.

"They captured us, the Others, on the far side of the chasm," Val said when he was done. "Sam killed two of them with Longclaw and then they knocked him down and me as well and bound us. Took us to that room, tied us, gagged us. The man you say he called himself the Stranger, he was there. He spoke to us briefly, said we would be unharmed if we did not try to escape. Said he wanted some companions, to talk. It had been so long, he said, and he was all alone. The look he gave me Jon…I knew why he really kept me alive. Then he said he must do something first and he sat in that chair by the fire and said nothing for a long time…until you came in."

There was nothing more to say. Jon knew they could never explain it properly to anyone who was not here. Jon was still not sure if he understood it all or what had been real, lies, or the truth. The god of death had been captured and imprisoned by mortal men with the help of the old gods…who would believe that?

"What do we do now?" she asked after a long silence.

"We must go to the capital, to save the armies of men."

"How in hell will we get to King's Landing?" she asked in frustration. "How will we even get out of here alive? All our bags are ash…our food…it's gone."

"There is food in his cave."

"I will never go back in there or eat what he conjures."

"Then we are doomed," he said in resignation. "It was all for nothing. We should never have come here in the first place. The Great Other, the Stranger, death…whatever it is, it cannot be killed, it could never be killed. South we should have gone."

"We did not know that."

"And now we do…all the good it does us."

"Jon…we had to come…for you to understand things…and for the power of Lightbringer to be real…I'm sorry, but it was necessary to come here."

He knew she was right. The journey did have one purpose…yet now it mattered not. "We will never get out of here."

"Dragon," croaked a voice, and they both looked up. It was the raven that Bran was inside flying above them in a great circle.

"There are no dragons here," Jon said in anger. But the raven ignored him and went high into the sky and over a nearby mountain.

And after a while they heard a screech on the wind and he thought it was more wights and Others and both stood ready to fight, swords in their hands. But then Val shouted with joy and Jon looked up. The raven was coming back and behind it was another flying beast that could only be a dragon…with a woman on its back.

It landed nearby, a great reptilian black beast dropping onto the rocks, and what snow and ice that had not melted when Jon destroyed the wights was soon steaming and turning to water. The woman slid off the dragon's back as it lapped up water from the stream. She was dressed in furs and leathers with a blue cape and had short silvery hair and the eyes of a Targaryen.

"I am…" she began but Jon knew who she was, for who else could she be.

"Daenerys Targaryen," Jon said.

"Yes. And you must be Jon Snow…my brother's son."

"So I have been told."

"Your hair…it is gone…have you been in a fire?"

"Aye, fire…it…"

"Cannot burn you?"

"It has before…but now I know what I am, it can't. The fire is inside me."

"Inside you?"

"Aye. I cannot explain it any better. The fire came from in me and destroyed many Others."

"That is interesting. Is the Great Other dead, too?" she asked in anticipation. "Lord Stark said you had come this way to destroy it."

"You talked to Lord Stark? He still lives?"

"Yes…is the Great Other dead?"

"No…he cannot be killed."

"Then we must find the Great Other and destroy it together."

"Listen to him, woman," Val snarled. "He can't be killed. He tried and…it can't be done."

"Oh," Daenerys said, her disappointment clear. "Then if it can't be killed…how can we win?"

"We can, by destroying his armies. Let me explain," Jon began but she raised a hand.

"It can wait. I trust you." There was an awkward pause as she looked from Jon to Val. "This is Val of the free folk." Jon told her.

"Hello, Val. Are there no more of you?" Daenerys asked. "Your people by the glacier said you were six."

"Four have died," Val told her.

"What happened?"

"It's a long story," Jon said, not trusting his voice to properly explain it yet, if ever. How could he explain why he killed his friend? "I would sooner know how you found us and why."

"I flew here. How I found you I will explain later. I have come for you, Jon Snow…and Lightbringer. That is the sword in your hand I trust. From a distance I saw a great flash of light."

"Aye, I have it. And little else. Except my life."

"And me," Val said with a glare at him and he smiled slightly. Then Val turned to Daenerys. "What is happening in the south?"

"War…the Others and wights are overrunning all," Daenerys told them and looked at Jon. "I have come to find you and take you…before it is too late." She turned to the dragon. "We must fly."

"Fly?" Val said in shock.

"Can your dragon take all three of us?" Jon asked. If they must fly he would not leave Val behind to her doom.

"He may for a short distance, to the glacier perhaps," Daenerys said as she started to walk back to her beast. She looked back at them and saw they hesitated. "Do not be afraid. Drogon has carried more than me before. When we reach the glacier we must rest awhile and fly on alone, Jon Snow, you and I. Hurry we must, for time is running out. The great battle for the dawn may have already begun…and we are very, very late."