DISCLAIMER: I don't own Halo or Game of Thrones (obviously).
SPECIAL DISCLAIMER: This is based on the original concept of the story "A Spartan in Westeros" by Agailius (a.k.a. Avalor0n), where the Master Chief and Cortana crash-land beyond the Wall and fall in with the Free Folk, rather than in the North with House Stark as depicted in that story. This has been written with that author's permission and encouragement, so I hereby dedicate this to him. And maybe one day, it will be a full story in its own right, and not merely a plot bunny.
RATING: "T" to be safe.
"A Spartan Beyond the Wall"
By StellarStylus
There were times when he wished that the Spartan had landed elsewhere, but such notions were dismissed the moment when he thought further upon the ramifications such scenarios would cause. Had he fallen somewhere below the Neck, doubtlessly the Chief and Lady Cortana would be beset on all sides by the scheming Andal lords, who coveted and squabbled endlessly for power and prestige. They'd be drawn to the Dawn like carrion birds to a battlefield. And that was to say nothing of the notion of them somehow managing to harness those most terrifying and devastating powers which the Spartan had alluded to possessing — those weapons which were rivaled only by the Doom of Valyria.
The same could be said had they landed in Essos as well, except instead of being surrounded by lords and kings, they'd be under siege from slavers, archons, merchant princes, sell sword captain and Dothraki khals. But perhaps the most terrifying scenario Ned could think of would be had they landed beyond the Wall. Had that happened, there might have been a chance of him falling in with the free folk, for though they were relative primitives, they respected strength above all else — and no man Eddard had encountered before could ever claim to wield the power that the Spartan possessed unspoken.
Had they managed to convince him of their plight, and the Spartan turned his weapons against the Night's Watch and the Wall…
—Agailius (a.k.a. Avalor0n), "A Spartan in Westeros" (Chapter 19)
As far north as one could go in the Kingdom of the North, there was Mole's Town.
The last town before the Wall itself, it got its name from all the tunnels winding around underground, and indeed the greater part of it was underground and not the houses above the surface.
In fact, it was said that the black brothers of the Night's Watch often visited this place to dig or mine for "buried treasure" at the brothel. That made one man in particular all the more keen to avoid it, not for any moral reasons, but because he didn't want or need to be caught by anyone from the Night's Watch.
This man clutched his traveler's cloak tighter about himself, so no one would see the black fabric slashed with red, which would have been a significant clue as to his identity. Instead of going to that brothel where furtive members of the Night's Watch would most likely be, he instead made his way to the town's other tavern, on the eastern edge of town.
He opened the door and looked around, and sitting there in a darkened corner was a large man disguised in a cloak. The other, larger man looked up to see the first man, and gave an ever-so-slight nod of his head to beckon him over.
The first man took a seat, and the second man spoke up in his flat monotone:
"Mance."
"Good evening, Spartan."
"So you finally made your way back from Winterfell?"
"How did you know I was in Winterfell?"
"I instantly recognized you as the visiting bard when I was making my case to King Robert Baratheon, Lord Eddard Stark, and the other highborn gathered there, and I estimated the time it would take for you to get from Winterfell to Mole's Town," the larger man said, slumping in his seat only to disguise his height. "It really wasn't that hard to figure out."
"Ha, I should have known," Mance Rayder said, trying to suppress his mirth so he wouldn't be speaking too loudly. "You have quite a sharp mind to go with your strong body, I can tell."
"Hm," John-117 — better known to the Free Folk and now the Westerosi as "Master Chief" — grunted, seeming to accept the compliment.
"So, about what transpired in Winterfell…" Mance began to say, before he was swiftly cut off.
"Not here," the Master Chief managed to interrupt without sounding rude. "Too many eyes and ears."
"Then where?"
"My 'pet bird' will take us back."
Mance chuckled. "Of course."
And with that, the Spartan left a few coppers on the table for his drink — he had only consumed a mug of ale for appearance's sake, and it was so weak that it made virtually no impact on his liver with his SPARTAN-II augmentations — and walked out with Mance right behind him.
The two men walked straight to the easternmost edge of town and beyond that, and they kept walking until even the brightest light from Mole's Town was out of sight and they were completely in the dark.
"You know," Mance suddenly spoke up, "I would ask if you know what you're doing, leading us in the dark of night like this… but something tells me you already do."
"Not to sound like I'm bragging, sir, but in the few months since we first met, I've proven that I know what I'm doing," the Spartan calmly replied.
And sure enough, a few lights appeared overhead, and the stranger's so-called "pet bird" — his flying vessel which he called the Pelican — descended before them.
Barely a minute later, they were both on board. Looking a little unsure, Mance found his seat next to the pilot's seat (which the Master Chief took for himself) and strapped himself in; he'd already ridden in this vessel a few times before to know the safety basics.
Mance didn't bother striking up a conversation; he already knew this would be a short flight.
Besides, he would much rather watch the view. Even a night like this, with just enough moonlight from a moon somewhere between its "half moon" and "full moon" phases, it was still enough to illuminate the icy True North beyond the Wall.
It was beautiful, in an eerie and desolate kind of way.
…Although he shuddered a little as he tried to not think about the icy beings somewhere out there which they were running from and hoping to stand against…
"We're here," the Master Chief said in his flat monotone, and sure enough, they were descending through the overhead bay doors into the hangar of the Forward Unto Dawn.
This ship might have only been a "light frigate" among the Master Chief's people, but even in this ship — which was only the rear half of the ship at that! — was large and sturdy enough to rival Harrenhal in its prime. Mance Rayder had even said as much to the Spartan once before.
Soon enough, they were back on the floor of the hangar, and Mance unbuckled himself and followed the Spartan out of the Pelican.
They were instantly greeted by a giant voice rumbling something in the Old Tongue, from a literal giant. The Master Chief still wasn't fluent enough to understand it yet, but Mance knew it and easily replied, "It went about as well as it could go, Wun Wun."
The giant named Wun Wun seemed to accept it and trudged back across the hangar to his corner which had been set up for him. There lay a makeshift sleeping palette made from a hodgepodge of materials, from both the Free Folk and the UNSC alike.
"I suppose our next meeting with all the other Free Folk leaders can wait until morning?" Mance asked rhetorically, already knowing the answer.
"Correct," the Master Chief replied with a small nod of his helmeted head.
For the time being, leaders and representatives from all known peoples of the Free Folk were residing here in the Forward Unto Dawn — the Thenns, the Hornfoots, the Nightrunners, the Men of the Frozen Shore, the ice-river clan, the cave-people, and even the giants (although members of that last group like Wun Wun had to make do with living in the hangar because of their size).
"Well then, I guess it can wait until after breakfast," Mance said. And then, with a small but growing smile, the King-Beyond-the-Wall then added, "Of course, if you make something which everyone likes, that might make them more receptive to your ideas and proposals. Any chance of making buttered pancakes with maple syrup again?"
"We'll see, Mance. We'll see."
"If nothing else, it will make a wondrous last meal for everyone before you send anyone out to capture a wight or a White Walker," Mance added, trying to lighten the mood.
"Hm," the Spartan grunted.
"So, Spartan," Mance spoke up again, becoming serious when he realizes that his newfound ally didn't share his humor. "What now?"
"And if that won't work… well, we can always knock down a good part of the Wall itself with one of your mighty weapons, yes?" Mance japed with a grin. "Maybe that 'MAC gun' or one of those 'Hyperion missiles' I've heard about?"
"…We'll see," John said, trying to reassure him. (Truthfully, he'd rather save those weapons for the White Walkers themselves. If anything, he'd rather not make a hole for any of these frozen undead monsters to swarm through.)
"Do you have any other plans for getting us south of the Wall?" Mance asked him in earnest.
"We're working on that," Master Chief said, shortly but sincerely.
"Aye, you and the Lady Aglow are always making your plans and more plans, I know," Mance said, smiling a little.
After a moment of silence, Mance spoke up again: "Right. Well, then. I'm off to get some sleep. I think I know my way back to my quarters by now. Have a nice night."
Master Chief bade him good night, and the King-Beyond-the-Wall strode off down the hallways of the Forward Unto Dawn, humming strange new tunes to himself.
("Maybe I'm being a little selfish," Mance had confided to him the other day, "but I'd like to have some new songs to play in the future after we win our victory against the Others.")
Once Mance was gone, out of sight and out of earshot, the Spartan headed to the nearest secure workstation to do what he could before falling asleep himself.
Time for the next plan: Find a wight to capture, and hopefully catch proof of the White Walkers' existence.
If that didn't convince the rulers and the people of the Seven Kingdoms to listen to him and work with him, then nothing would.
But he wouldn't stop until he completed his mission.
Because he was Master Chief Petty Officer Sierra-117.
And he wasn't planning on failing the human race anytime soon.
"John?"
Master Chief turned to where Cortana had suddenly appeared, standing atop a nearby holotank. "Yes, Cortana?"
Cortana appeared, much more somber and concerned than her usual sassy self. It was only earlier this evening, right after they had departed from Winterfell in the Pelican, that Cortana had shown the first signs of rampancy. So far, she was holding herself together rather well, and the Spartan was doing his best to stay strong for her sake too.
All the more reason for them to complete their mission and find a way to contact the UNSC, he reasoned. Especially if they could find the origin of the faint Forerunner signal which they had been detecting for a while now.
Now, she momentarily looked lost for words, like she didn't know what she wanted to say… but finally, she said, "Don't worry about it, John; we'll get through this together."
"I'm sure we will," he reassured her.
"I'll go over possible plans for finding and capturing proof of the White Walkers' existence for tomorrow morning's little breakfast conference," Cortana said, trying to adopt her usual cheery tone. "You just get a good night's sleep."
"I hope we can find a way to keep Mance happy in the meantime," John commented.
"Well," Cortana drawled out, and John could practically see the impish grin forming on her face, "we could show him Sgt. Johnson's favorite flip music—"
"No, Cortana."
AUTHOR'S NOTES: So yeah, I've had this idea for the better part of a year now, and this might have been one of my very first plot bunnies, but then a certain superhero fandom devoured my brain. I'm glad to finally get this done. I'd also like to make this a full story eventually but for now I'll leave it as is.