Daenerys
The ship was softly moving from side to side, as it quickly glid over the ocean. The waves very practically non-existent and they had yet to encounter any of the dangerous sea-animals that lived in the Jade Sea, reaching from giant squids to the famous Krakens.
She silently looked around her chambers. She remembered them vividly, remembered exactly how she had woken up in the cabin many, many years ago, after the death of her brother and guardian.
Her 3 Dragons swirled overhead, their leathery wings cracking in the air, creating wind so strong that at times it created a wind, so strong that it could be used by them to sail onwards, further and further west.
She remembered waking up in this very bed, dizzy and exhausted. It was the day she had met Shiera for the first time. A person she had trusted.
A mistake, she had later learned. A harsh lesson to be sure, but one she would not forget soon. I can trust no one, she now knew. Only myself.
She walked on top of the deck of the rather small ship. She could feel a soft breeze pulling at her hair, the slight whipping of the masts, the sounds of the few sailors that had volunteered to join her in Qarth talking amongst each other.
Something about breathing the fresh air of the ocean, made her feel alive and free. Like she could escape anything, any threat because it was so vast and wide.
For a moment, she just sat back and tried to enjoy her life at the moment. To just be careless for some amount of time - the gods knew that she would likely not get the chance for that in a long time.
They had picked up a few more men and women on their way, most of them at Qarth. All of them were people who had pledged themselves to her and were willing to follow her now. Into whatever darkness may lay ahead.
The most useful of them were certainly the sailors, something that they had had great need of. While the knights that had come to pledge to her, had come by ship and had been capable sailors, one had to be to reach the shores of Asshai unharmed. However five out of six of them were now dead and only the old knight with his white beard remained.
Therefore the extra sailors, that Pyat Pree had hired in Qarth from seemingly nowhere, were very welcome support. A few young acolytes that were learning in the House of the Undying had opted to join them on their journey as well, hoping to learn more about the depths of magic, from both her and Pyat Pree.
Pree didn't think too much of them. They were mostly incapable to him, with not much potential, at least none that could ever match Daenerys's "Most mages are infants grasping at the machinery behind reality" he had told her. "Very few ever get to truly experience the depths of magic."
Many warlocks she had met in Qarth had been very impressed by the magic she showed herself capable of performing. It was the direct result of both intensive training and a natural gift for magic, given to her by her valyrian origin.
Losing herself in her thoughts, she laid on her back on top of the deck, silently staring up at the sky. A few seagulls circled overhead, cawing loudly. Only one of them was black... no it wasn't a seagull, it was a raven and for a moment it seemed as if it was staring at her, it's dark eyes fierce and intelligent.
She blinked and suddenly the moment was over and the flock of birds disassembled in the air. Still she for a moment she thought she could hear them cawing in a melody, with the voice of the raven singing with it's horrible, raw, voice, making her shiver slightly. It was a harsh melody, their voices horrible to listen to, but still it became a song.
When darkness comes
When worlds collide
Who will fight
and who will hide?
A feat of strenght
Some words of wise
Who will pay
The Iron Price?
Beyond the wall
Things of night
Take up swords
Begin the fight
Eyes of blue
A sword of flame
Who will come
To stake their claim
The world looks bleak
It looks so dire
Will she come
in Blood and Fire?
A Mother of Three
The Bride of Shadows
darkness lingers
wherever she goes
Long she was gone
From the darkness she rises
To the shores she returns
Without compromises
Trust no one
become a liar
this is the song
of Ice and Fire
Daenerys sat in the largest cabin of the ship, located right in the center of the Sea Dragon. A large table was placed in the middle, a map of the known world engraved in its hard wooden surface. The chamber itself was rather sparse, decorated with a few wooden carvings and small paintings, but nothing extravagant. The chairs they sat on were comfortable yet kept simple, carved from wood with a small pillow to sit on.
"So what now?" Archmaester Marwyn asked. Dany slowly turned to look at him. The short man had a very thick neck with a strong jaw. He was rather fat, though his weight had gone back during his time in Asshai. He had white hair coming from his nose and ears, with his nose cracked due to having been broken more than once.
Like always he chewed a plant called Sourleaf, a foul-tasting plant that turned the consumer's teeth red. When Marwyn smiled, Dany considered it a bloody horror.
It was very early morn, and Daenerys felt mostly tired, struggling to focus herself on the topic at hand.
A small storm was stirring outside and the walls of the ship were constantly vibrating slightly from the wind and waves buffeting against the keep. She found that softly petting Shadow's head was a good thing to keep herself focussed and the black hellhound seemed to enjoy her attention. The men and women in the room all gave Shadow rather wary glances, but Dany had trained him well and her companion remained rather reserved.
"Yes... What now," she said suddenly. "The big question and the one we're here to figure out."
The entire room looked at her. Even a guard at her door, an acolyte of the warlocks looked at her curiously. The man stood stiffly by the adjoining door with his arms folded.
"Is it true?" Marwyn asked her. "What Shiera did, all those years ago?"
"That depends on what you've heard, Archmaester Marwyn," Daenerys replied with a raised eyebrow, keeping her voice cool.
"Forgive me, my princess," the old knight said carefully. He was a rather tall man and seemed very fit for his age, but his voice was much more hesitant. "But there has been talk – we need answers. Is it true that it was Shiera Seastar who burned down the mansion in Braavos?"
The old knight had first been in complete disbelief when he had met Shiera for the first time. He had known old stories about her and Lord Bloodraven but would have never dared to guess that she was still alive.
Daenerys bit her lip fractionally. "Yes," she finally said, after a short time of hesitation. "It is. It was her who started the fire in our house many years ago."
The group, gathered in the small chamber stirred. Only Pree had been there when the truth had come out and up until this moment she had not spoken about it with anyone. Of course, some rumors and gossip had gotten out, but this was the first time she confirmed it.
"But why would she do that," the old knight said. "What did she gain from it?"
"Power," Dany said slowly, but firmly. "Magic."
"She knew the Dragons would hatch and the dragons are power. Fire is true power and my children are fire made flesh."
The old knight seemed like he didn't understand a word of what she had said, but nodded anyways, accepting the answer he had been given.
"There is something, I must tell you, my Queen," he started, looking at her intently, however, Daenerys ignored him and started talking.
"What we will do now, is the only question that matters now."
"My Queen, I must insist," Ser Barristan continued, looking at her slightly pleadingly. Finally Daenerys sighed. "Alright, say what you want to say."
"I.… was not completely honest with you," the old knight noted.
"Oh?" Daenerys asked with surprise, raising one of her delicate eyebrows.
"I was not completely honest about my identity..." he started, his voice turning a bit rough with what she thought to be anxiety. "My name is not Arstan Whitebeard." He looked at Daenerys for a moment, but the young queen didn't seem surprised in the slightest.
The young woman obviously noticed his surprise. "I always knew you were not who you said you were. I can tell when people lie to me. But the dragons judged you innocent so I knew you had no bad intentions towards me. I did wonder however when you would finally tell me yourself. So, tell me Ser. Who hides behind the name of Arstan Whitebeard?"
"My name is Barristan Selmy," the old man replied, shocking even Daenerys. "Kingsguard to your father and I would have been to your older brother Rhaegar, had he lived long enough to become the king I knew he could become."
"Ser Barristan Selmy," Daenerys said slowly, leaning back in her chair. She took a sip of her water, while she let the words linger in the air. "I learned all about you. Your role in the War of the Ninepenny Kings, how you slew Maelys the Monstrous on the Stepstones and how you unhorsed Ser Duncan the Tall, earning the nickname 'the Bold.'"
Ser Barristan seemed to relax slightly at those words, however, Dany's facial expressions did not change. "But you were also the Lord Commander of Robert Baratheon's Kingsguard," she finally said and the old knight seemed to deflate.
"But you also fought for me and would likely have died for me if necessary. So in return I shall give you a chance now. Speak now and tell me why you have come here. One chance. Tell me, why I shouldn't have you killed for abandoning my family in its time of need."
Ser Barristan took a deep breath and started to speak. "I rode next to your brother on the Trident. I fought next to him and would have died for him. I would have given my own life so he would be able to fight on if possible. But I was injured and looked on helplessly when Robert Baratheon's Warhammer found his chest."
Dany just looked at the old man, rising her hand gesturing for him to continue.
"After the battle was over and we had lost, Robert Baratheon himself had me taken from the battlefield and my wounds treated. When he gave me the choice to bend the knee or follow your brother into his grave, I chose to live."
"Why?" Dany asked. "You just said you would have died for Rhaegar, so why not die alongside him."
"It was a difficult decision, your Grace," Barristan continued. "One of the hardest I had ever made. But at the time I didn't choose between House Targaryen and House Baratheon, I chose between your father, the Mad King and Robert of House Baratheon. I loved your brother, truly I did. If he had lived at the Trident he would have removed his father from the Throne himself. But he didn't and Robert Baratheon was a better man than your father."
"I appreciate your honesty, Ser Barristan," Daenerys spoke finally. "But why are you here now? You chose to serve Robert Baratheon, why have you abandoned him now?"
"You," Ser Barristan replied without hesitation. "4 years ago, news of you being in Asshai reached the Red Keep. A traveler had noticed you and sold the information to the crown for a large sum of money, enough that he most likely still lives in incredible wealth today. Ever since then, Robert made it his goal to find you. Dead or alive, yet preferably alive."
"So he could kill me himself?" Daenerys interrupted, her eyes narrowed.
"No, your Grace," Ser Barristan replied. "Lord Eddard Stark pleaded to the King for your survival. You may or may not know that Lord Stark was quite disgusted at the death of your niece and nephew and the two of them never fully reconciled. He offered that should you be captured alive, he would take you to Winterfell and raise you as his ward. The North would allow you to live while ensuring you would never have the power to rise against the Iron Throne.
The Northerners are very loyal to the Stark. No promises of wealth or fortune could tempt them to turn against their lieges'. King Robert hoped that granting his friend this wish and allowing you to live would be enough for the two of them to truly become like brothers again."
Daenerys found herself surprised at the old knight's words. She knew that Lord Stark was hailed throughout Westeros as a man of honour and honesty, however pleading for the survival of the daughter of your greatest enemy, was another thing entirely.
"Go on," she finally said. "You still haven't mentioned, why you left King Robert."
"Well," Ser Barristan sighed. "No One he sent after you, ever returned or even lived to tell the tale. So when the news of your dragons growing larger and larger, without anyone being able to stop you, he grew a bit paranoid. Not to the extend your father was once, but still. He had almost all remaining Targaryen loyalists exiled to the Night's Watch or even in rare cases executed. At one point, during a small council meeting, at which I was present due to my rank as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, I suggested making peace. The King didn't take it well.
To him I was another Targaryen loyalist, another threat. So I fled, before he could do anything. I fled east, further and further until eventually, I ended up in Qarth. There one day I heard the news of a group of Westerosi knights, hoping to find you and pledge themselves to the Mother of Dragons. So I joined them."
Silence lingered over the room for some time, only the crashing of the waves and howling of the wind could be heard.
"You have proven yourself to me," she finally said. "I would have your oath of fealty."
Ser Barristan seemed very relieved at those words and immediately got to his knees, swearing his ever-lasting allegiance to his new Queen.
As he rose again, Dany moved close to him, so that they almost touched, standing barely a foot apart from each other. "But never, ever, dare to lie to me or I will have you fed to my dragons," she said with a soft smile, her facial expression belying her words. Ser Barristan merely nodded and sheathed his sword that he had drawn for his oath, before sitting back down.
"Well," Daenerys started again. "Anyone else got to say anything before we start now?"
When no one answered, she finally started with what they had originally come to discuss.
"I need a base of operations. A place, a magical place, that I can use as a base for any expansions I would make."
This was when Marwyn spoke up. "I have studied magic at the Citadel and know of all places in the known world that would suit your needs."
"The Wall," he named as the first magical place, but before he could continue, Dany cut him off. "To damn cold," she stated bluntly and Marwyn nodded, conceding the point. He took a quill and stroke out the Wall on his parchment.
Old Town was next, but Daenerys was quick to reject the city as well. The city was too huge and she would have to position any army outside the city walls. Besides she wanted to place her base of operations, the capital of her future empire somewhere outside of Westeros.
The Shadowlands and Stygai were next, but they were too far east and too haunted and dead, the Basilisk Isles and a few settlements in Sothoryos were far too deadly and unexplored. Valyria was far too potent for a normal civilization and Dragonstone, while tempting was currently occupied by the Baratheons and was very close to King's Landing.
"Bloodstone," Marwyn finally stated, looking at the map engraved into the table before them. "It's the last and probably best option for you, my Queen."
"Bloodstone," Dany repeated, eyeing the map carefully. Bloodstone was one of the Islands the formed the Stepstones. It was the largest of the islands, lying the furthest to the northwest and north of Grey Gallows. Besides that, many years ago, it had been the seat of Daemon Targaryen, when he was the self-declared King of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea, during the war for the Stepstones. It was close to Dorne and equally close to Essos, along with the Free Cities of Myr, Tyrosh, and Lys.
"Why Bloodstone?" she asked the Maester questioningly, awaiting his reasoning.
"The stepstones are volcanic," he replied, surprising her. "The soil is fertile and the sea is everywhere, allowing us to easily build ships from the trees that grow there. Your Dragons could thrive in this environment. Besides, if we manage to ally with the Free Cities, we have a very strong position on the Island.
"Or if we manage to take them..." she said slowly, looking at the map thoughtfully.
"The Stepstones could make a fine base, however many of the Islands are still infested with pirates, that will have to be... removed," Marwyn added.
"Or employed," Dany added.
"You would need an army to take the Stepstones," Ser Barristan cautioned. "Your Dragons alone will not be enough."
"And where could I get such an army from?" Dany asked the old knight.
"I would advise you to look west, my Queen," Ser Barristan answered, pointing towards the lands of Westeros. "Despite Robert's actions, there are still many in Westeros that would support your claim to the throne. The Tyrells and especially Martells would support you, should you marry one of the Tyrell children. House Martell still hasn't forgotten about the death of Princess Elia and her children. They will join you, to seek revenge against House Lannister."
"The Iron Throne," Dany said slowly. "Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady Regent of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm... Such magnificent titles. But meaningless. In Westeros I would face hatred and revolts. They might bend to my Dragons but they would hate every second of it."
"The Iron Throne is your legacy, my Queen," Ser Barristan stated. "You are the last Targaryen, the last scion of the mightiest empire that Westeros ever saw."
Daenerys stayed silent for a moment, until she finally started to speak, all eyes looking at her expectantly.
"I was born a little girl just like millions before me. Westeros made me a wanted criminal, just for my families deeds. Do you think I wanted to be born a Targaryen Princess? Do you think I asked to be judged as mad for the smallest mistake I do, Ser Barristan? Why should I be Queen of Westeros? I don't have the patience to be judged, shunned, and hated by people who have never met me." She sighed, looking through the room. "Truthfully, I don't have the time, nor the ambition to rule over a continent that would go to war with me just for being born. There is nothing for me in Westeros but blood and hatred."
She looked over the map before her, letting her hand run softly over the lands where she was born. "One day, I will go west and reclaim my families legacy. But that day is not now."
"I have made my decision. Bloodstone shall be mine, but I will need an army at my back," Dany suddenly said.
"Set sail for Astapor, I have a plan."
Beyond the Wall
The two of them rode slowly atop their mounts through the haunted forest, that stretched out across the frozen tundra around them, as far as the eye could see.
The world was entirely frozen, even colder than it had been at Winterfell - And it was still summer. These lands were barely inhabited with only few Wildling settlements, even though Jon and Ramsay had managed to avoid them quite well up until now.
The lands had a certain beauty to them. Snow covered everything, giving the landscape an appearance of being wild and untamed, but at the same time strong and rich, filled with strong people. Besides the haunted forest that stretched on for leagues, there were no trees in the open tundra, only rocks, ice and snow.
And even though Jon already missed his family dearly, he felt like he belonged here. The struggle of living and travelling in and through these lands was hard and exhausting, a task in which many would have perished, but it made the struggle all the more rewarding.
They were due to reach the Frostfangs soon, a land where barely anything was able to survive.
Already, the two could see the huge cliffs of ice that marked the beginning of the Frostfangs stretching out in front of them. It seemed like a giant labyrinth of winding sheets of ice – like a world of ice that formed walls around you, forcing you to find your way through the maze of valleys and mountains, filled with dangerous predators. The path the two were riding on became thinner and thinner, more perilous the closer they moved towards the huge mountains of ice.
They rode for hours and hours each day, taking in their surroundings and admiring the landscape.
Even despite the danger, the snows, the cold, the icy landscape still had a wild, unearthly beauty to it. They were on top of a glacier, staring out at the very edge of the known world. Barely any person had ever travelled this far north, to where the cold was eternal. The Lands of Always Winter stretched out before them, reaching seemingly endlessly into the distance.
"We will need to find something to hunt soon. As it stands, we will run out of supplies within the next few days," Jon stated. The route up in the mountains was getting harder now. The lands were getting even harsher than they had been before. From atop a mountain, the large crevasses surrounding them looked like the ice had been shredded by a giant knife. It looked as if they were the giant spikes, like the thorns of Winter Roses that grew in the gardens of Winterfell, just in far larger and made from pure ice.
"Do you even have a plan, Snow?" Ramsay asked, mildly annoyed, kicking his horse's flanks aggressively to urge it forwards. When Jon remained silent, he sighed. "Can't believe we are in the damn Frostfangs, these wildling-infested mountains because a damn crow in a dream told you to go north."
"I never told you to come with me," Jon grunted, looking forwards to avoid meeting Ramsay's pale blue eyes. "But I can feel we're on the right way. My dreams have been getting more... intense and I can feel some kind of... presence that grows ever stronger."
Ramsay grunted but didn't argue back. "I need to kill something," he muttered under his breath, but the Frostfangs didn't offer much to hunt and kill.
Suddenly, without any warning, the path ahead of them cracked, breaking away. It took just a few seconds, but suddenly the path was gone, the very place where they would have ridden just a few seconds later.
The two of them carefully rode forwards, urging their steeds to the edge of the path, where it had crumbled. Jon silently cursed when he saw what laid ahead. The path being destroyed had left the route impassable. Ahead of them, the ice now fell away in a sharp vertical cliff. Maybe the two of them would have been able to climb it, but Jon very much doubted it. The cracks of ice, the only place you would be able to hold on to seemed as sharp as Valyrian Steel and the cliff before them was as deep, as the grey walls of Winterfell had been tall.
There was no route they could take. To their right was another large drop and to their left was a small plateau. It was just about 8 feet above them, but they would be unable to get the horses up there to continue their journey.
But before he could ponder on how they would go on from here, he got an uneasy feeling in his gut. He could feel someone watching him and could feel their eyes, staring at him, chilling him to the bone. He shivered, looking around quickly, but didn't see any threat.
That was until suddenly an arrow whizzed out of nowhere and struck Jon's horse in its head, piercing directly through its eye.
The horse immediately collapsed and Jon barely managed to react in time and push himself off the back of the horse, before it fell onto him, crushing his legs beneath it.
Jon immediately drew his sword, while Ramsay nocked his bow, looking around warily. Jon himself ducked behind his horse's corpse, waiting for the attackers to show themselves.
Finally, Jon heard the crunching of snow to his right, from the other side of his horse's corpse. A few figures, clad in white furs moved around them silently and quickly, their ghostly outlines barely visible in the snow.
Another arrow shot past Jon and embedded itself this time in Ramsay's leg. With a screech, Ramsay's horse threw him off and bolted away, fleeing into the direction they had arrived towards the cloaked figures.
"Those are Thenns," Jon shouted towards Ramsay, who had despite his injured leg, pulled himself to safety and now ducked behind a stone.
"Oh, thank you so much," the other boy shot back annoyed. "Now I know the name of who is about to pierce us with their arrows."
"You wanted something to kill, not me. So kill them."
The thought of killing someone seemed to breathe life back into the Bastard of Bolton, who immediately nocked an arrow and peaked out of cover for just a second. However, that fragment of a second was enough for the boy to loosen his arrow at one of the attackers with deadly precision, piercing straight through the heart of one of the wildlings.
The man's pained screams echoed through the valley and some roar's of anguish by his tribemates could be heard.
Jon was too focussed on the battle, but he could have sworn he saw Ramsay smile in ecstasy at the sound.
Another arrow was nocked and another of their warriors fell, just as the Thenns decided that enough was enough and charged the two bastards, trapped on all sides now. They had no way to go forward or to their right and if they wanted to climb onto the plateau to their left, they expose themselves to their attackers and would immediately be shot by whoever had the bow. At least Jon hoped, that only one of them was carrying a bow.
"CROWS," the men screamed as they charged at them, while another fell to Ramsay's arrows. Finally, Ramsay threw away his bow and drew two knives from his cloak, taking one in each hand. "Father always said that the skin of Thenns looks the best and keeps you the warmest," he said to himself, but Jon could hear him.
Jon was about to intensively question Ramsay about what he just heard, but decided against it, as they currently had a bigger problem.
Thankfully the wound to Ramsay's leg was not too deep, the furs had slowed down the arrow, so it was barely more than a flesh wound. Despite it looking quite shakily, Ramsay managed to stand up, facing the wildlings.
Being on a narrow path with no way to escape was certainly a problem, however in melee combat, it proved to be an advantage. The Thenns attacking them were forced to engage them one by one and were unable to utilize their advantage in numbers.
Jon slashed wildly at their attackers, decapitating one and pushing one of the edge of the cliff. He saw the surprise in the man's eyes as he fell and hit one of the impossibly sharp ice blades on the ground. The shard pierced straight through the man's chest, impaling him half a foot above the ground.
However, this moment of distraction allowed one of his comrades to push forwards, knocking Jon backwards.
Jon snarled furiously, slashing upwards, but he felt himself losing to the attacker's superior strength. He felt his attacker rip his sword from his hands and tumbled to the ground, looking on helplessly as the Thenn moved towards him. Jon saw the attack coming, but he knew he couldn't dodge or block it. His body didn't even twitch, as his opponent raised his mighty battleaxe.
Ramsay was a few feet away, locked in combat against another Thenn, yet even from his position, Jon could see that Ramsay was outmatched and would soon fall. He fought like a mad dog, slashing wildly at his attacker, his fighting style quite similar to the wildlings themselves, however, he was injured and started to succumb to the strength and numbers of their opponents.
Suddenly time seemed to slow down.
Jon could see a flock of ravens, flying in the clear, light-blue sky.
He looked at his adversary, his battleaxe raised and looking at him with cold fury in his eyes.
He was clad in shaggy furs, his axe raw and filthy, yet with a dangerous edge. Snow fell softly from the sky, forming a thin layer of snow that adorned the furs of the man.
His axe was just about to come down, as a loud howl startled him. The sound whistled in the wind, echoing over the mountains…
The wolves were close.
...
very close.
Jon slowly turned to his left and felt himself freeze in shock.
Atop the plateau, barely a dozen feet away, stood a wolf as large as their horses. A great beast, a mountain of muscles, hidden beneath thick grey fur, it's light blue eyes focussed and intelligent.
The wildling's axe came down towards Jon quickly, yet the man was distracted, his eyes focussed on the great wolf, howling to the sky.
With his last remaining power, Jon rolled to the side, narrowly dodging the axe. But he wasn't quick enough.
The raw metal missed his head by just a tiny amount, but the tip of the blade still scraped across Jon's face, cutting through his cheek and above his directly through his eye, slicing straight through the eyebrow.
He howled in pain, as he felt his warm blood splatter from the wound, just to freeze on his cheek a moment later.
Another wolf emerged from behind the grey wolf and his opponent finally fled, running for his life.
Jon saw the wolf's bright blue eyes glittering in the sun, while the snows swirled and danced around them.
Slowly black started to creep into his vision, while the howls of the wolves echoed through the Frostfangs.
Just as he started to drift away into the darkness, he could feel the phantom sensation of snow under his paws, along with the metallic taste of blood in his mouth.
He saw the world from different eyes until he finally passed out, just as a huge elk emerged, a dark figure, clad in boiled leather and ringmail on top of its back.
Slowly he gained consciousness again, groaning loudly.
He heard the crackling of a fire, felt the hot heat that radiated from it. Something cold and rough traced his cheek. Jon shivered before he forced himself to open his eyes. Through the blurry dew, he could make out a man with a concealed face standing before him. His skin was paler than his, his eyes darker, the orbs solid black. Between the sting in his eyes and the dark shadow of the cave, Jon could only make out the eyes. His ungloved hands that had traced Jon's face were black and as cold as those of a corpse.
Jon's hands shivered like he was naked in the cold kills and a thousand words were trapped on his tongue.
He could see Ramsay laying against the other side of the cave, seemingly unconscious.
The fear started to leave him, but suddenly the intense taste of blood flared up in his stomach. A wolf cannot be afraid. It can't.
He rubbed his eyes carefully, but suddenly noticed that something was wrong. He could not see much with his left eye, where the wildlings axe had scraped past his eye socket.
He pushed himself from the wall, his fingers tapped the round pommel of his bastard sword, that was laying by his side.
"Careful," the man's voice echoed through the empty cave, as he moved towards him. "It will heal, but you should be careful for now, lest you lose the eye."
Suddenly Ramsay's laughter echoed through the cave, a cackling sound that quickly grew louder. The other boy had apparently woken up as well, and Jon noticed a bandage that was tightly wrapped around the Bolton bastard's leg
.
"Wouldn't that be a shame, if your pretty eye were gone," he laughed loudly. "How horrible! My boys told me how some kitchen maids swooned over the Stark bastard and his beautiful grey eyes."
Ramsay kept laughing, wheezing on the ground like it was the most hilarious thing he had ever heard.
"That's enough," the stranger finally intervened, looking at Ramsay bored. Three wolves appeared behind him, stepping out of the shadows. Jon immediately recognized the first of them as the one he had been able to identify when he had passed out. Looking at the great wolf from this distance was even more impressive since the beast towered over them. His light-blue eyes scanned its surroundings at all times and Jon could feel a certain... connection with the wolf. Two more, slightly smaller wolves stood behind the blue-eyed wolf, that Jon identified as a male and probably alpha of the pack. Frost Jon named him in his mind.
The other two wolves had the same thick fur, but one was black, the other grey, while both of them had yellow eyes that even seemed to be a tinge orange.
"Why do they follow you?" Jon asked the man with the cold hands slowly. Coldhands. "Why do I feel this... connection to the wolf," he asked, pointing his finger towards the alpha wolf.
Coldhands nodded and slowly walked towards the giant wolf and stood at his flank while carefully petting him.
"Direwolves," he finally spoke. "Magnificent creatures. The apex predators of the known world, able to hunt and kill almost anything save for dragons themselves. The ferocity is almost unmatched, in the wild, they are highly aggressive and engage anything that poses a threat to themselves, their pups or just their domain. No human could ever hope to approach a fully grown direwolf and live to tell the tale, assuming he didn't bring crossbowmen with him."
"But how..." Jon started, but Coldhands interrupted him.
"No men... except the Starks. Ancient magic, as old as House Stark itself allows the scions of House Stark to occasionally gain the ability to warg and skinchange. Rare... but not non-existent."
"Are you saying, that..."
"That you are a warg, yes. Not the most powerful of your generation, incapable of succeeding the three-eyed-crow, but still quite capable. When you fell in the Frostfangs, your third eye started to open. You warged with the wolf, established a connection. It's weak now, but it can grow stronger."
Jon sat in silence for about a minute, contemplating what he had just been told. Not the most powerful of your generation the stranger had said. Who was this other, even more, powerful greenseer? Did he know him? Or her?
"We must go," the stranger with cold hands suddenly said, his voice raspy and ragged.
"Who are you?" Jon asked, trying to sound strong but he noticed that it sounded weak. "Why are your hands black? And where do we need to go?"
"I have no name," the stranger stated. "At least none that isn't long forgotten. When a man dies, his blood runs down, the furthest it can go - into his extremities, his arms and legs. They then swell, grow larger and their colour turns as black as the sky in the darkest of nights, while the rest of the body becomes as pale as milk."
"So you are saying that you are dead?" Jon asked incredulously, but the man ignored him.
"We must go. The last greenseer awaits you, Jon Snow. The three-eyed-crow."
For a moment Jon stared at the man in amazement, not believing his ears. The three-eyed-crow was why he had come all this way to this freezing wastelands.
"The three-eyed-crow? He awaits me?" he questioned the strange elk-rider, searching for any trace of a lie in these pitch-black eyes.
"Yes, he does."
They had ridden through the dark woods of the haunted forest for many hours now. All 3 of them were mounted on the back of Coldhands elk, a great beast that matched the wolves in size. It couldn't match the wolves in combat power, yet it made up for it in terms of speed. They moved at a very quick pace, the elk easily jumping over rocks and rivers and navigating through the forest completely by itself. Jon wondered how the elk knew where it had to go, given that Coldhands, as Jon had dubbed him, gave no hints at all where it was supposed to go or steered it into any direction.
The wolves moved next through them through the woods, equally fast while spreading out through the forest, looking out for any threat that may arise. They were barely visible in the snow and combined with the darkness and pale moonlight that shined on the snowy surface they seemed to completely vanish within the darkness.
Occasionally one of the wolves shadows could be seen, but they quickly vanished again as quickly as they had appeared.
Only the fact that Jon knew that Coldhands had what appeared to be full control over them and the fact that he himself started to feel where the Frost was, kept him from being horribly afraid of the wolves..
They kept travelling for over 4 days, eating the meat of snow-foxes, smaller elks and even a snow bear that the wolves had killed until finally, they arrived at what Coldhands said was the cave of the three-eyed-raven.
Something was telling him, that the journey that was laying ahead of him now, would change everything.
As the three of them dismounted from the elk and approached the dark cave that laid before them, two of the wolves turned around and left, running south at a quick pace. Only Frost remained, his blue eyes remaining focussed on Jon.
"He decided to stay with you," Coldhands said slowly, moving towards Frost. "Interesting, very interesting."
Jon only looked on surprised and nodded at Ramsay. "Let's go," he said, as the three of them entered the old cave, a huge wolf and a huge elk following.