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Today I've got an action-packed chapter for you!
I really hope you'll enjoy it! Thank you for your support!

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Chapter XLI: Weirder things

Craster's Keep was not worth the name Daeron thought. Maybe here, in the realm of wildlings it could earn the name of 'keep' but to the king it looked more like a compound of ill-made huts. The living area – a long and low hall made of logs with a roof of sod – was packed with Craster's women and the traitors judging by the sounds that came from it. Daeron did not know what he expected but this was certainly not it. He had heard that this place had made the difference between life and death for some rangers in the past and Craster had been a 'friend' of the Watch for a long time. But judging by the fact that he had been killed by sworn brothers, then maybe he was not such a good friend. The two men who had come back from Lord Commander Mormont's mission to the Fist of the First Men were on board again for the mission to avenge their late leader. They had told Daeron a little bit about Craster.

The man was greedy, he welcomed the black brothers but always pressed for them to leave so that they would not deplete his resources. That Daeron could understand. What was more disturbing was his habit to marry his own daughter, sire children on them and only keep the girls. Daeron had asked what he did with the boys that had inevitably to come from such relations. No one new, it was most likely that he simply abandoned them. Some men of the Night's Watch had hypothesized that he did this in order not to have competition, but Jon could not understand that. Not now that he had a son himself. He would give anything in order to see Aemon, be with him at all times. And he could not even begin to imagine abandoning him. He guessed not all men had a parental instinct about them, and maybe the harsh conditions of the far-north would have pushed him to take drastic decisions as well. But not this one, he would be more the type to leave his home and go die in the snow so that his children would have food like northmen have been known to do in long winters.

Unfortunately for Ser Alliser's strategy of taking the traitors by surprise, one of them got out of the hall to take a piss, judging by what he was doing with his breeches. He saw the sworn brothers, his eyes widened and he ran inside screaming. Having lost their advantage, the men of the mission ran after him with war cries. The fighting for Daeron began outside. Swords clashed against swords, women got out of the hut with high-pitched screams of fear, men made guttural sounds while dying. True to his words, Daeron tried not to kill the traitors, except for one with long black hair and a black beard who clearly would have escaped if he had not dealt with him immediately. It was his first time truly fighting since Mance Rayder gave him Dark Sister. It was disturbing, the easiness with which he cut through flesh and bones alike, there were no other blades as sharp as Valyrian steel. Though, he tried to use mostly the flat part of his sword and threw back the fighters into the fighting and the arms of the fighting brothers.

There were more traitors than he would have imagined. From what he had heard of the late Lord Commander's mission, he had thought that only a handful had survived. And judging by the fact that only two men came back to Castle Black, he had anticipated maybe three here. But no, it appeared that most of the men who had come back from the Fist had deserted.

Daeron saw Ser Alliser walk alone into the hall. Seeing that the situation would soon be in control outside, he followed him but stay at the door. Inside, he was surprised to discover that there was a second floor under the roof, he had thought the building too low for that. There was no floor, only the dirt and in the middle of the room a huge fire burnt with benches around it. Ser Alliser was closest to Daeron and facing him was a man, still in black, with short cropped hair and two daggers, one in each hand.

"Ser Alliser, you're bringing me back to trial. Wanna know the good thing here? We were freemen. But you'll never be free. You'll never know what that's like." The man launched himself at the Lord Commander.

"No… But I know what having honour means! And that's Lord Thorne for you now." The knight replied while parrying the first attack and sending the man to the other side of the fire.

The daggers allowed the traitor more movement whereas Ser Alliser's greatsword slowed him. So, the man tried to provoke his opponent to get him to attack first and find an opening.

"You learned how to fight in a castle." He mocked in between blows one of which got the Commander in the groin. Daeron was ready to intervene but the wound did not seem to bother Ser Alliser too much despite his cry of pain. "Some armoured man teach you how to stand, how to parry? How to fight with honour? You know what's wrong with honour?" He spat in the Lord's face destabilising him. "This." He pushed him using his moment of confusion.

Daeron had his hand on the pommel of his sword and took a step to end the fight but out of nowhere a girl came. She held what must have been a kitchen knife and dug it as deep as she could between the traitor's shoulder blades. He grunted in pain, but the knife had not been very sharp so it did not do enough damage. Though, he turned and glared at the woman who looked so scared Daeron thought she was about to faint.

"You…" The man said as if he was about to kill her, taking the knife out of his back and pointing at the girl with it. Though, before he had the time to finish, Ser Alliser's sword pierced his neck and came out through his mouth, killing him instantly. The Commander took out his weapon with a sickening noise of metal against bone while Daeron knelt beside the wildling girl.

"Are you alright?" She did not look at him but at the ground and she did not answer either. This woman was afraid of men, he realised, all she had ever know was rape and pain. "Come with us." He told her taking her arm as gently as he could. "Come on." He insisted and finally she looked at him. She had a blackened eye and trembled like a leaf.

Checking to see if Thorne could walk on his own, which he could, Daeron got out of the hall just as one of the two men who had come back to Castle Black killed the last man standing outside. The women of Craster's ran into each other's arms and the Lord Commander asked for the number of victims.

"We lost six brothers, Lord Commander." The same man answered the question. "I have counted fifteen mutineers also. There were sixteen when we left."

"Where is Rast?" The other survivor asked.

The matter of Rast was soon forgotten as the Commander ordered the weapons to be brought together to be transported back to Castle Black. Ser Alliser also addressed the women.

"His Grace Daeron Targaryen has offered land and shelter for the Free Folks south of the Wall. You would be protected there." The knight told the assembled wives and daughters of the late Craster.

"No one can protect us. Not you crow, and not your King. We will get on on our own, but we would like to cross South, so we'll follow you." The eldest one said. "But first, you need to burn this place to the ground." She spat in the snow. "And all the dead with it."

Ser Alliser raised his brows but did as she asked. They put the place to the torch with the bodies piled up inside. Maybe it was the sound of the fire, but they only heard the screaming man when he arrived in the middle of them. He was dressed in black but Daeron did not remember him from the ride north, so he must have been the famous Rast.

"White walkers! White walkers!" He screamed.

One of the sworn brothers decapitated him ending his screams but almost as soon as his head hit the ground, they heard the shrieking noises. They came by dozens, running toward them. One of the men blew three blows on the horn, but the things were already there. They were… inhuman but had human form. They were dead or should be. Some had missing limbs or entrails trailing on the floor or bone out in the open. The common points they had was that they had unnatural blue eyes, glowing eyes, and they all ran after them and attacked them with the intent to kill. They had already succeeded for two of the brothers. The others, including Daeron ran for their lives, the sworn brothers and women alike.

Some of the brothers tried to take them down with arrows. Daeron heard some orders shouted "Notch!" "Draw!" "Loose!" but the men were starting to panic. "They're not stopping m'lord!" He heard one of them shout on his left. "Gods have mercy! They're crawling! They're on us!" Daeron did not care if they were crawling or running, he was running with all he had and not looking back. A horse stepped past his head, a brown mare with snow in its mane and hooves crusted with ice. Daeron watched it go from the corner of his eye. Another appeared from out of the falling snow, but it was not running in the right direction it would soon be dead, killed by the dead monsters behind them. In their surprise they had not thought of mounting their horses. They did not have enough for all the women anyway. So, their horses were lost, so was their food, their torches and some of them. And now their only hope was to run for the Wall.

"Fire! Fire arrows! Give them fire!" One, who he assumed was a sworn brother, shouted, but soon his voice morphed into screams of agony and then he stopped. Daeron risked a look back, but through the drifting snow all he could see was the huge fire created by the burning compound of hurts. "There are wights all around us!" He heard a man again and guessed wights were the things that were trying to kill them. "A bear, a bear!" cried another. If he focused on the shouting, he would be lost, Daeron knew that much, so he just kept running and focused on his steps. One after the other in the knee-deep snow.

Suddenly the dark trees were all about them and Daeron was running through a thick curtain of frozen branches with the sounds of slaughter dwindling behind. He felt a brief moment of relief… until the man behind him was yanked backwards and cut to pieces by wights.

For how long he ran after that, he had no idea. But it felt like hours before he stumbled upon Ser Alliser. He could not tell the knight how glad he was to see that he was alive and unharmed. The sky was getting a shade lighter. They had attacked the traitors around an hour after midnight and now the dawn looked to be less than an hour away. So, he would realise later that he had ran for three hours.

Ser Alliser nodded to him and since they did not hear anything anymore, they slowed their pace thinking they were alone. But they weren't alone at all. A cold freezing wind rose up from the ground and they heard the crackling of a horse walking on leaves behind them.

"Who goes there?" Thorne asked after spinning back.

There was a horse. A dead horse with blue eyes and black entrails dragged from its open belly. On its back, they saw a rider pale as ice that scared them so much that Daeron thought he would piss himself for the first time in his life – he did not. The thing did not look like wights, it was sword-slim and milky white, almost blue. It was shirtless and after sliding gracefully from the horse it walked barefoot on the fresh snow. It also had a sword gleaming with a faint blue glow. He had seen these things before… In a dream he remembered, back in Dorne. It had disturbed him greatly, but then it had stopped. He had stopped thinking about it… not that it would make any difference now, anyway.

Not knowing what to do and acting more out of instinct than logic Daeron lunged himself forward with his Valyrian steel sword - Darksister - in hand. The first blow the thing parried easily; it actually looked surprised. Daeron could not understand why until Ser Alliser joined in the fight and again the attack was parried. This time the sword exploded into a thousand shards but it created enough distraction for Daeron to run again and shove his sword before him with both hands. He heard a crack. Not the kind of crack of a dragon egg hatching but the kind of crack from breaking ice. Then, a sharp screech. He blinked and saw the thing had exploded into ice crystals.

Ser Alliser was trying to catch his breath and still holding the pommel of his broken sword. "How? Why?" He asked.

"Maybe it's the Valyrian steel." Daeron shrugged having difficulty breathing himself.

They heard another screech, or rather a roar and Daeron once again prepared to fight. But soon, he recognised the familiar form on Rhoynax. He cursed himself then. In his panic, he should have thought of calling the dragon. He ran to her and petted her snout.

"There you are girl… I missed you." He felt the fear she had felt through their bond. It was weird that she had not felt him and came to his rescue sooner actually.

More ruffling leaves were heard behind them but Rhoynax was not alarmed, and soon, Daeron was not anymore either. Out of the trees, came one of the initial surviving two men of the Night's Watch and a girl. The one with the blackened eye. She's a fighter this one, Daeron thought.

"Happy to see you again." The man said. "The wights that were after us fell all of a sudden. I have not seen any other alive in hours."

"I think his Grace killed their master, that's why they fell. We will have to assume the other are dead. Happy to see you too Grenn." The Commander mumbled.

"We need to get away from here." Daeron declared matter-of-factly. Thorne gave a pointed look to the dragon. The King understood what he meant. It was a long shot but he asked the question anyway through his bond with the grey dragon. For such a short distance, Rhoynax was confident that she could carry the four of them, it appeared. At least long enough for them to get away from the threat.

"Follow me." Daeron guided the other up the shoulder of Rhoynax.

"What do we hold on to?" The man – Grenn – asked clearly frightened.

"The person in front of you." Daeron replied. And so they took to the air. Daeron in the front with Ser Alliser's arms pressing against his stomach and the woman and Grenn behind. Rhoynax flight was laborious. She struggled with each flap of the wing and when they had left the ground, she had tilted dangerously to her right. Grenn and the woman let out scared cries.

...

Rhoynax bringing them all safe back to Castle Black was a feat in and of itself but she would now need a few days to rest, which meant Daeron could not leave immediately. It was not such a bad thing though now that he had seen what threat the Wall faced.

Back in the safety of the Castle, Ser Alliser and Grenn explained that it was not the first time they encountered wights and White Walkers – the thing –, in fact, it was the second time for Thorne and the third for the other man. Ser Alliser had seen a wight when one brother, killed beyond the Wall had been brought back to Castle Black by Benjen Stark before he disappeared. In the middle of one night, the dead man had rose and attacked the guards, killing three of them before it was put down with fire. Then, on the mission that led to Lord Mormont's death, the brothers had to run from their camp when they were attacked by three White Walkers and their servants. Two hundred men had died, but they had discovered one interesting thing. When they had run out of arrows which, as they saw a few hours earlier, were useless, they switched to arrows made of a black, glass-like material which they had found in a cache at the Fist and dismissed as prehistoric garbage.

"Dragon glass." Ser Alliser had deduced when he heard the description. "There was some in the armoury when I first arrived at the Wall. Maybe two swords and one dagger. Ill-made, really. The Old Bear never understood why they had been kept, I think he disposed of them."

Daeron had one question after the explanations of the two men. "Why did you not inform me the minute I arrived at Castle Black?"

"We thought you knew and didn't care, your Grace…" Ser Alliser admitted. "We have sent word and asked for help to all the Houses of the North, major or minor, and to the Great Houses of the Realm. Including the Iron Throne, all four other kings of the so-called War of the Five Kings, and Dorne."

"Well, it would not surprise me if my goodfather kept this information from me. And Robb was probably attacked before he got the chance to read your raven." Or he forgot, or he dismissed it as legend. Daeron added to himself. He sighed. "Anyway, now I know. And more than ever, I feel I need to convince my aunt to ally with me and come back to Westeros."

"Why, your Grace?" Grenn intervened. "Why not stay here with us and fight them of with your dragon?"

"These things clearly are not human, and the White Walkers appear even more indestructible than their servants. You said there were hundreds of them at the Fist, correct?" The man nodded. "Then I cannot take any risk. There could be thousands and dragons are not invincible. I bet those ice swords of theirs could kill Rhoynax if thrown in the right place. My aunt is rumoured to have three more dragons and an army… Besides, I also have a feeling that the Realm will need to be united for this fight against White Walkers. We cannot defeat these monsters if we have human enemies at our back. At the very least, the North will need to be secured."

"Then what do we do?" Thorne asked.

"You keep yourselves informed on their movements as best as you can. And you hold until I come back." He commanded. "If need be, you call on Stannis Baratheon and the wildlings." Thorne nodded his understanding.

After checking on Rhoynax Daeron went to bed. He planned on leaving on the day after the morrow.

...

About a year before, Daeron had recuring dreams in which he had visions of Old Valyria. Therefore, he knew where he was right away. The elegance of the buildings still fresh in his memory. This time though, he was not alone in the streets of the now ruined city. She could have been any Valyrian really with her silver hair and deep lilac eyes, but by the way she looked and smiled at him, Daeron guessed she could talk to him, making her his ancestor.

"Hello Daeron." She greeted, confirming his guess. "I'm sorry for prying, I was just curious about how you would look with so much Westerosi blood in your veins."

"Are you displeased my Lady?" He asked carefully but not without playfulness.

"No… I can't say I am. You're still very handsome… That's what worried me the most." Daeron was a little taken aback by her honesty.

"You are at an advantage, my Lady, you know who I am and I still don't know your name." Daeron said.

"I am Baella. My son was Aenar and my granddaughter Daenys. You've met both of them I believe." Daeron's eyes widened. "What is it? Is that so unbelievable?"

"No… I mean… I just thought I could not see the Targaryens of before the Doom. I never have." He explained.

"Well, it's a good thing I'm not a Targaryen then." Again, the young King made the face of a dead fish. "Don't look so surprised! I'm still you're great-grandmother several times removed. And I guess I am a Targaryen, but only by marriage. I was born to another of the forty dragonlord families. I was a Belyrian at birth."

"But I thought…" Daeron started but his ancestor interrupted him.

"You thought Targaryens only married brother to sister? We all did that really… All the dragonlord families. I am a fourth daughter… My three elder sisters married my brothers." She started her explanation. "And my husband had two brothers, no sister. He could never have dreamed of marrying me otherwise… But my father did not want the Targaryen line to go extinct." Daeron frowned. "We were significantly more powerful than the Targaryens." She added.

"Alright…" Daeron was not sure what to do with this information, he had already known that the Targaryens were by far not the most powerful dragonlords.

"Do you want to know why the Targaryens were less powerful?" Maybe he could use this information.

"Please."

"They were good for conquest and were useful in the destruction of Ghis and the Rhoynar. A good mind for strategy according to my father. But they had a strange dislike for slavery… most of them. I guess it was in their blood." She shrugged. "So when the others could exploit mines, they had no workforce and then later, no money to invest in the technology. They were penniless compared to the others. That gave them less weight in the decisions in time."

"But they were the only ones to survive." Daeron observed.

"They were. As I said, strategists." Baella confirmed.

"Is there a reason why you're telling me that now?" Daeron swayed from side to side.

"No, actually, I wanted to talk to you about the Doom." She revealed.

"The Doom? You were still alive?" He asked.

"No, but I was alive when the first signs appeared." She said. "We had an especially long summer with more bushfires than I had ever seen. I died in this summer. A heat stroke. But in the last years, the ground started to shake regularly. Never really hard, sometimes we barely noticed. But the signs were there."

"Even before Daenys had her dream?" Daeron interrupted her with a question.

"No, they had already gone." She cleared out.

"You did not go with them?"

"I was not a Targaryen… Not really. I was like the others. Thinking my son had gone crazy. I should have seen the signs. I don't know if we could have done something in the end… I don't really know what caused the Doom." She seemed nostalgic.

Daeron was thinking about what she was saying. "You think there is a parallel to be drawn with what I saw today?" He asked remembering the cold wind that had come with the White Walker.

"I don't know… Maybe. You're a Targaryen, you would know better than me." She cupped his cheek. "But what I want to say is… don't wait for the last moment, I guess. You know the threat, you see the signs. Don't wait until the threat is on you to deal with it."

"I know… I know what I have to do. But it's easier said than done." He avoided her gaze for a minute before turning his gaze back to her. "But I'll do my best. I promise."

"I don't know if that'll be enough." She told him honestly.

"Neither do I. But it's the best I have. And I just can't give up. Not for me… But for all the people I love, for Arianne and Aemon and Robb and Sansa and the people of Westeros." He enumerated sadly. "I never thought Westeros would be in such danger. I mean wars? Yes. But an invasion of dead people? It seems so farfetched."

"Do you think we expected our surrounding mountains to explode into a fire so hot it burnt even dragons?" Baella lifted her brow.

"No, I guess not." Daeron conceded.

"There are weirder things in the world."

"Is there?" He chuckled.

"Probably not. But it helps me to think there is."

So, I would like your opinion on the way I described the White Walkers. Was it good?
Also, this is the first dream with someone I invented and from before the Doom. Did you like it?

Next chapter: Daeron travels across the Narrow Sea and reunites with his family.

Guest chapter:

- (Hitman) I don't think Daeron would think this way...

- Yes, he will, but it will take some time.