Game of Thrones

The Moon's Child

Chapter 2

Unlikely Protectors

303 AC- The North- Winterfell

The tattered army marched forward, only forward, the Red Woman's evil magic had seemingly melted the snows, and so they marched. The horses they had cut through Mance Rayder's mighty host with were gone, the sell swords that had swollen their ranks and made them a real army were gone, the siege weapons they had brought and dragged down from the wall were gone, and the Red Woman whose magic had lead them this far was gone. Still they marched. Through the sheer force of their King's will, what was left of this rag tag army marched on, with bows and pikes, swords and shields they marched forward. More than a thousand men, the last of faithful trudge silently through the snow beneath their flaming heart banners. Then it was there, as they came to the brow of a gentle slope a great castle emerged in the distance. Its thick walls and high towers stood a beacon in the snow, once the seat of the Kings of Winter, then the Kings of all the North, and then a seat for the Iron Throne's Wardens. Winterfell had stood for thousands of years, now a Flayed Man flew where a Direwolf once did, and now this Army must be about its Kings business.

"Trench here…another one 300 yards from the castle wall hurry them along. And send out a foraging party immediately, the siege begins at sunrise."

"There isn't going to be a siege Your Grace." The leader of this disperate army, Stannis Baratheon turned his head to the Castle he coveted. From the brow of a hill wave after wave of mounted cavalry… in perfect formation thundered towards his tired and huddled infantry, they would bore down on them long before he had a chance to get them into any sort of formation. He had been called the King in the Narrow Sea, and the King at the Wall…. Never just the King. The Red Woman had called him the Prince that was Promised…. Azor Ahai reborn, he had pulled a flaming sword from the Gods of his fathers, he had seen a great battle in the snow, but he didn't feel particularly like a saviour at this point. He stood silent, the wave of mounted men an inevitable end to his reign. He heard a cry from one of his men "We've got no chance." Stannis, dipped his head slightly, before drawing his sword and holding it aloft. There was a clang of metal and a roar of support as his faithful soldiers drew their weapons as well. This would be their last stand… well for most of them. For although an army is led by its King, it is formed of thousands of individuals. As King Stannis and his generals lead from the front towards the rear of the formation two young men stand amongst their comrades, one clutching a sword and shield, one a pike. They stand ready, awiting the onslaught the Bolton's have prepared for them. The young man with he sword turns to his comrade "Fuck this" He says plainly, as they simaltaneously turn, push past their fellow soldiers and break out into a run back the way they came. They are not the only ones who have had this idea, dozens of men break away from the pack, dropping flaming heart banners as they do. The two young men look back briefly to see the charging force slam into their comrades, they run like men possessed from the sickening noise, ignoring the pain and the hunger, the fatigue and the cold they run as if their life depended on it… for it did. Finally they made it to the tree line.

…

They had been running for hours, trying to dodge the mounted patrols the Boltons had sent out after them, and the others who had run. They had been lucky, up until now. Both men stopped as two riders cut off the path ahead of them, they turned to see a third rider coming up behind them. "Shit." They both muttered under their breath as they went back to back. Both lads were about the same age, late teens neither had seen their twentieth name day. The larger of the two had grey green eyes and an unkempt mop of black hair, he wore hobbled together armour, chain mail, and Baratheon plate he had been able to secure from fallen soldiers, a heavy grey greatcoat was worn over this. He held an oval shield emblazoned with a flaming heart over his left arm, and an unadorned long sword in his right hand. His companion was slightly shorter, with a very squat build. Full beard and long messy blonde hair beneath a rounded helm. He wore a grey greatcoat like his comrade over dull chain mail with a couple of salvaged pieces of plate, he carried a pike with the remnants of a flaming heart banner at its point.

The lead rider Stepped forward "Drop your weapons and surrender. You are now prisoners of House Bolton."

The young man holding the sword lowered his sword slightly and stepped forward as if he were about to say something. Instead he thrust his sword forward into the side of the Bolton man's horse. The Horse reared up sending its rider falling to the ground, the man with the pike thrust it into the leg of one of the other horses, the horse bolted causing the rider to leap from the saddle, the last seated rider reared up and slashed down with his longsword, the young man wielding a sword parried his first blow, and the second, and third before thrusting forward with his sword and piercing the riders side, he had to pivot to meet the charge of one of the fallen Boloton men, he dodged an attack and slashed at the man's gut, as he fell to his knees the young man thrust his sword into his throat sending him collapsing into the snow. As the wounded rider attempted to bring his horse around, a pike exploded through his back and out his chest. The two deserters from Stannis Baratheons' army both moved on the last of the Bolton men, he drew a handaxe from his belt and with his longsword in his other hand charged at both of them. A brave final stand… but ultimately futile, he managed two swings against the flaming heart shield before he took a pike to the gut, and was then finally dispatched by a sword to the heart. The two men took a moment to catch their breath, one of the Bolton horses had bolted and ran during the mele, the other two were injured. "I don't even know your name." The squat pike wielding soldier told his companion as he retrieved some water from one of the wounded horses' saddles. He drank deep from the skin and threw it to his companion.

"Thanks" The other soldier nodded as he caught the skin and drank some much needed water "Kylon… Kylon Wheelwright…. Ky. And you."

"Albert…" The shorter man replied putting his pike to one side "No last name. Are you Highborn?"

"No." Ky shook his head "My father and grandfather were merchants, my grandfather took the name. Where are you headed?"

Albert laughed a little "I have no idea. I'm a long way from Crackclaw Point."

Ky nodded "I'm heading to Eastwatch by the Sea."

"Why?" Albert asked "Taking the black?"

"No" He shook his head "Stannis and Salladhor Saan's ships are still there. But they won't be there for long after that defeat. I'm going to hitch a ride and go back South."

"Where's home for you?" Albert asked

"I grew up near Nightsong in the Stormlands. I've still got a sister there, seems like a good place to go."

"What if the ships have already left?"

Ky shrugged slightly "Eastwatch is a port, they'll be other ships. I've got gold, I can buy passage."

"Where did you get gold from?" Albert asked suspiciously

"Stole it" He shrugged "The Bolton's hold Winterfell, the Dreadfort and Moat Cailin, which means if two Southenors like us try to traverse the North on foot we will draw attention, and most likely be captured and killed. If we dodge the Boltons, we will probably fall afoul of one of the other Northern Houses or some of the roaming Ironborn still here. At least Stannis or Saan's ships will be going South anyway, and with most of our comrades dead and our sellswords deserted they'll be plenty of room onboard"

Albert nodded "Want some company to Eastwatch."

Ky looked down at the three dead Bolton soldiers on the ground "Why not, probably won't be the only trouble we run into. We should put the horses out of their misery, let's take any food and water they have… and any coin." He bent down and picked up one of the long swords that had been dropped by the Bolton men, and then salvaged a dagger from his belt. "Grab yourself a shield and a sword, we should start moving again."

…

303 AC- Beyond The Wall

Deep beneath a hollow hill guarded by an old and ancient weirwood, nestled in a cave and enveloped in roots, the boy who had been Brandon Stark sits by the side of The Three Eyed Raven, his eyes a milky glaze, his features relaxed in a trance-like state. He will never walk again, they had all said… but he will fly. He had seen many things with his new mentor, the past and present had merged into one. And then with a flash, he was no longer in the cave. He was stood upright, dressed in black wool and leather, a hint of what Lord Brandon Stark may have grown up to be, next to him the reassuring presence of the powerful Three Eyed Raven.

They were stood in a lush green field, flowers sprung up all around them, animals and birds frollicked as far as the eye could see. "Where are we?" Bran asked

The Three Eyed Raven looked around, there was a huge palace on a hill in the distance, gold and crystal, its towers reached to the sky. The Three Eyed Raven remained silent, he walked faster than Bran had seen him walk before, Bran raced to keep up with him. He walked to the brow of a hill, there was a clearing, a circle of stone pillars stood sentinel, as if they would be there forever. The Three Eyed Raven was silent, amongst the stones a group of figures sat in conversation around an altar, a baby lay writhing on the altar. Those that surrounded the altar seemed to be in deep conversation, two of them looked like men. One was tall and thin, shining silver hair tied up in a bun, a thin silver moustache hung down from his lips. His eyes were a brilliant white, his robes long and flowing, adorned with pearls in many patterns, his fingernails were long and pointed, each finger had a ring bearing a pearl of a different size, a strange light seemed to gather around his hands, a small creature, with brilliant white scales and leathery wings curled about his shoulders, the creatures head rose and a small flame emerged. The second of the men was just as tall, but much larger in size, he had a mane of flowing red hair and a thick beard, neither Bran nor the three eyed raven could hear them, but he appeared to be laughing. His robes seemed to be woven from leaves and vines, his belt had a bloody blade on one side, and a bag of overflowing seeds on the other, he wore no jewelry or adornments, but it was as if his hands glowed and eerie green. Bran's eyes were drawn to the next creature, small and hunched, with large yellow almond eyes, its mottled grey/brown skin seemed more like bark then flesh. Bran thought him one of the children, next to him, a creature so alien to Bran he had no idea what he was looking at. The creature had Oily black skin, it seemed to have the shape of man. But there were clawed tentacles where arms should be, and a series of writhing, slippery tentacles where its legs should be, next to the creature, a form made entirely of shadow, and next to that form a roaring fire which seemed to react to the others. Bran and The Three Eyed Raven watched on silently as the figures conversed, when the talking stopped, the perfect sunny sky turned dark, the sun was replaced with the largest moon either had ever seen.

With a strange chant the moon glowed an eerie red, the glow took on a fluid form as a drop seemed to emerge, a huge drop of blood fell from the sky landing on the altar below. The drop covered the writhing infant and splashed the surrounding figures drenching them in crimson. An eerie glow emerged from the altar and the baby disappeared in a flash.

"The Moon Child" The Three Eyed Raven spoke under his breath

All six figures turned to look at Bran, and the Three Eyed Raven. Bran did not recognise the language they spoke, yet he still seemed to understand.

The large red bearded man looked to the child of the forest "You're doing."

"No" The child replied, looking at them both "Not yet anyway."

The tentacled creature let out a shrill shriek as the small white dragon reared up on its masters shoulders.

Bran and the Three Eyed Raven both awoke in the damp cave beneath the hollow hill, the reassuring embrace of the weirwood roots around them. "What was that… When was that?" Bran asked breathlessly.

"Enough for today." The raven swallowed hard.

….

303 AC- The Gift

It was twilight, the two young soldiers had been travelling North for days avoiding everyone they could. They were in the Gift now, Roose Bolton the Warden of the North held now authority here. But having been at Castleblack they knew what a sorry state the Night's Watch were in. There would be no stopping Bolton men chasing them down and dragging them back to Winterfell… they would not be safe until they got to the Wall. The two halted and hid behind some brush "A goat." Albert nodded to the small animal a few yards ahead.

"It's tethered." Ky shook his head "There must be someone nearby"

"There's no settlements" Albert shook his head "Easy food"

"It could be a trap." Ky shook his head, before holding up a hand "Wait. stay here." Ky left the protection of the brush and headed towards a large tree, he moved aside some branches and saw a large bundle of fur crammed into a hollow. "That can't be comfortable in there." He said coldly as he reached in and pulled down the fur hood of the trees occupant, a flame haired girl stared back angrily at him "Now whats a pretty girl like you doing in a tree like this… in the middle of fucking nowhere I might add."

"Hiding from you." She spat back.

"You should have done something about that goat." He replied in a condescending tone "That's what caught our attention."

"Are you alone wildling? Or are there a band of bloodthirsty savages ready to eat my associate and I?"

The girl grinned for a moment "No band here kneeler."

"My associate and I are hungry. How about we cook that goat, we'll share it… we have coin and things to trade."

The girl brought a hand from beneath her bundle of furs and clutched a bone knife "You'll leave the goat alone kneeler."

Ky took a step back and raised his sword between them. "Pretty or not, I've been through too much today to get stabbed by a Wildling in a tree. Now, we are going to eat that goat, and because we pride ourselves on being gentlemen we'll save some for you. Even leave you some coin. But I'm not an idiot, stay in your tree until we're gone… or I will lose patience."

Ky turned to leave, heading back towards where he'd left Albert. "Wait please…" The girl in the tree reached out and grabbed his coat. She awkwardly stepped out of the hollow in the tree trunk "You can't kill the goat I need her."

"Is this some sort of Wildling thing?" Ky asked with a raised eyebrow

She shot him an unimpressed look "i need the goat for her milk" She sighed, as she started to unwrap the furs around her to reveal a bundle at her chest "The baby can't eat, she needs milk."

Ky stepped forward and looked down at the babe, nestled still and serenely amongst the furs the baby stared back with piercing blue eyes. "That is a very quiet baby." Ky dryly observed "You can't feed her?"

"Not my baby" The Wildling shrugged "My sister carried this little one, and now she's dead."

"Sorry to hear that." Ky nodded "Is the father or any family likely to come after this little one?"

"No" She shook her head

"Is your man likely to come after you?"

The girl grinned slightly "I don't have a man kneeler."

"Good to know." He smirked slightly "Where are you going?"

"South." She spat out immediately "As far as possible."

"You don't want to be going on foot." Ky shook his head "With the Boltons in charge Wildlings won't get a warm welcome in the North, and the North is very big."

"Well we're not going back North… the Walkers are coming… I was at Hardholme… they're coming for us all. The red witch said your Southern King would be the one to stop them… will he."

Ky grimaced slightly "I can't imagine Stannis will be doing much of anything anymore. "Look, we're heading back to the Wall…"

"No…" She cut him off "Not a chance… we're not going back."

He held up a hand to cut her off. "There is a Port at Eastwatch, Stannis has ships there, we're going to hitch a ride South on one of them. It will be quicker than on foot. We're only a few days walk away from Eastwatch… come with us?"

"Why you being so nice kneeler?" She eyed him suspiciously

"I've been at war for about four years now, I've lost friends and family and seen some horrible things. A couple of days ago I abandoned my King and my fellow soldiers to die… I just want to go home now. And I'm not going to leave a baby in a frozen wasteland, come with us South… where else have you got to go?"

She hesitated for a moment before looking down at the bundle in her arms the blue eyed child looked to Ky and and held out a hand. "She likes you kneeler."

"I'm Ky."

"Lilly" She nodded back "This one doesn't have a name yet, bad luck."

…

Albert came trudging through the snow to where Ky was standing. "Where in the Seven Hells have you been?"

"Albert this is Lilly, Lilly this is Albert." Ky politely introduced them.

"Nice to meet you Lilly." Albert smiled awkwardly "Something you want to tell me."

"Yep… Lilly… her baby and her goat, will be travelling with us to East Watch."

"Are you taking the piss?" Albert asked open mouthed "Whose going to pay for their transport?"

"I have gold." He dismissed him

"Where did you get gold from?" Lilly asked in disbelief

"I stole it." He told her plainly

"So we're all going then?" Albert asked, as the goat let out a bleating noise "Two deserters, a wildling a baby and a goat. We shouldn't stand out at all." The blue eyed child, sat silently in the arms of her aunt and the rag tag band continued to trudge North towards Eastwatch, as the hunters moon lit their way.