The Gateway

298 AC

It was pitch black at the bottom of the world.

With shallow, labored breath, the body had begun to stir. A low quiet hiss of air had come out from behind the bruised and bloody lips. The chest had begun to rise and fall steadily. The lightning blue eye had opened, but this time, it could not see.

Starag Mormont lay on a cool, smooth surface. He tried to feel what it was. Stone. More fucking stone.

Why was everything so dark? Why was it so cold? Hadn't he been in the depths of a volcano? Was he not there still?

Slowly, the memories of the years that had passed by had come back to him. He'd battled a dragon, but he was taken away from his escape to freedom. He'd been dragged back into the depths by something supernatural. Something much more dangerous than the dragon. Something big.

The pain that had racked his body had soon returned. Mormont cried out into the darkness as he felt the immovable strain of his tired and aching muscles, the simmering cuts on his back and legs, and the horrible burns on his hands, feet, and knees.

He tested whether or not he could move his hands. He could. The fingers on the right hand had gripped something. It was smooth, comfortable, and durable. Longclaw!

The left hand had searched up and down his body, feeling the old scars that had riddled his flesh, as well as the wetness of the new ones that had been recently added. There was nothing left of the robe he'd worn to dinner, however many years ago that had been.

Was he blind? Had his fight with the dragon rendered his right eye useless? Mormont didn't know. But even then, he was too tired to panic about it. Weakly, he brought his hand down to his pocket. Through the folds of bloodied fabric, he felt the sharp edges of the wooden box of matches. He dug his hand inside and yielded the treasured box.

He felt along the sides of it, trying to find the rough patch where he could strike a match. He found it, and opened it, taking out one of the dry sticks. He simply hoped it would work, even after being in the rain for so long.

In the inky black void, Mormont felt a fledgling amount of relief when a tiny spark had cracked off the edge of the box. He could see! It was just too bloody dark in this place.

Mormont tossed aside that match and drew another one. This time, it lit up like a flaming star in the night sky.

There was nothing around him. Only darkness had inhabited this place. Where am I?

It was then that his whole vision had twisted and churned. The ground beneath his back had rumbled as the maddeningly deep and haunting voice had spoken from the depths. He could feel its presence within him. "Do not be afraid. I am not your enemy. I am peace. I am salvation."

Then it was gone.

Mormont lifted his head off the ground, he grit his teeth, biting his tongue as he forced his straining muscles and clenching joints to move. Grindingly, he got to his feet and tried to pick up Longclaw so he could defend himself from the new threat.

Clong!

Mormont turned his head in the direction of the new noise. He glanced down at the ground and inched forward with the dying match. It was a long Valyrian Steel torch, already filled with a strange-looking black stone. It was almost… greasy…

"A gift for you, my child." The squelching voice had called out from the dark. "It is so very dark, and I have been quite lonely for some time. Touch your flame to the stone and it will light your path…"

Starag Mormont was apprehensive about listening to the voice in the dark. But what else could he do? As far as he knew, he was at the bottom of the world. The way out had long gone.

Reluctantly, he placed the dying flame against the head of the torch, he nearly jumped back when the greasy black stone lit up with an emerald green flame. Just like the dragon's eyes. Just like wildfire.

The green flame had illuminated more space around him, though. He left the new light on the ground while he had strapped his scabbard to his hip again, sheathing Longclaw. Then, he picked up the torch.

Mormont could not help the primal fear in his gut that told him to run from whatever this… thing was. It was a different voice than the one he'd heard when he'd fought the dragon, or crawled through the hot tunnel, or even when he'd climbed down the cliffside in the mines beneath the First Flame. Now, it was telling him that whatever was waiting out in the dark, was simply out of his depth. He and it were not in the same class whatsoever.

"What are you?" Mormont asked into the cavern.

Slowly, the rumbling voice echoed back. "I… I am a timeless curse… Many names and many titles have been given to me. Most of them would mean naught to you, my child." It said deprecatingly. "However, you may know me by another name. The Valyrians had given me a title, but when I cast them down, it was you humans who had called me 'The Doom'"

By the Old Gods… So that was it then. Mormont had not simply been pulled in by another monster. He'd been taken away the oldest one of them all. The very same creature who had wiped out the Valyrians so long ago. Euron Greyjoy had been right, even in his mad ravings.

The Doom had spoken again. "I have watched you since you entered this place… I have seen your progress, have examined your foolish and stubborn mind." Strangely enough, its tone was rather respectful. Like it was giving him a compliment. "You refuse to die at every turn. It is admirable of a mortal such as yourself. A tiny speck of dust in the vast universe and you still cling to life. The will to live is strong. Stronger than I had thought."

Mormont felt his heart begin to race as he heard something large slither and writhe away from him, perhaps ten or twenty feet to his right. "I am not usually wrong. For countless others have perished in the mines before you. Men are fickle creatures. They usually give in once the pressure becomes too great for them to bear." It paused. "But you… You had held on, had stood before the doors of death and declared 'Not today!' Ha! You mortals amuse me…"

Mortals? What in the Seven Hells was this blasted thing? What had Greyjoy said? That these creatures had come from other worlds? Normally, Mormont would've laughed at the notion, but he'd seen far too much at this point to disagree.

"What do you want with me?" Mormont forced the hardness into his voice. Even then, he felt more like a child trying to make demands of his immovable parents. "Just show me the way out, and I'll get going."

The voice had rumbled and coughed in the darkness. Mormont realized it was laughing. At him.

"You came to the Grave of Dragons…" It ignored his question. "Desperate for a meager solution to your meager problem. Instead, a whole other world had waited for you, waiting to swallow you and tear you asunder…" It laughed again. "Were you hoping to destroy the children of the Great Other with dragonsteel and a few spells? They would crush your people, shatter your pathetic Wall. No… You need something else, something much more powerful to stop them…"

Great Other? Meager? Mormont did not know whether or not to be angry or impressed at the creature's knowledge.

In truth, Mormont didn't know if what they found in the Solaerys tower would ensure their victory against the Others. Aside from their weakness to magic and Valyrian Steel, Mormont knew next to nothing about them.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"Come… I will show you…" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the tip of a massive white tentacle beckon him forward. Hesitantly, he stepped towards it. It could've devoured him already if that's what it wanted to do. Mormont was completely at this thing's mercy.

He followed the white tentacle in the darkness, feeling the caked blood on his feet rub against the smooth stone floor. It was too smooth to be natural. It looked almost like the same texture as Valyrian architecture.

As if to answer his question, the Doom spoke once more. "The Valyrians had built this place. A temple of sorts, dedicated to me. We are deep in the earth, and you stand at the gateway of the Hinge itself."

"Gateway?" Mormont's curiosity had peaked. Hadn't Greyjoy mentioned a gateway?

"It is a portal to my realm." It explained. So it was the entity hiding beneath the volcano. The one that was waiting to be released. "But I am trapped. For the gate is not fully open."

Perhaps that was a good thing. If the Valyrians had indeed built a temple for this… thing… Then why hadn't they released it?

It continued. "When the Valyrians had found me beneath the Fourteen Flames, we had struck a bargain. They were curious little creatures that amused me. They were at risk of being conquered by their rivals, and they were desperate…"

Naturally. Mormont had shaken his head. Desperation was the foundation of every bad deal. Of course, the Valyrians' arrangement with this monster had backfired on them. As the saying went; be careful what you wish for.

"And what did you get out of it?" Mormont asked. "Blood sacrifice?"

"Hmmm… No. Blood sacrifice is common, and is worth little in most cases, despite what you humans may believe." It had said. "I traded in something more… exotic, shall we say? Still, it did require sacrifice on their parts."

That had given Mormont pause. Blood sacrifice was worth little? And what exactly did this thing trade with?

"What do you mean by that? With Blood Sacrifice?"

The Doom had echoed a soft rumble, an amused laugh. "You are a curious little thing… That is good." It sighed, its voice jumbling slightly. "The blood of mortals is easily given and easily taken. That is why it is worth nothing. Your lives are not measured by your blood, but by your souls, your deeds, how you have lived, the choices you made, and the ones you have yet to make." It elaborated. "The souls of a conqueror of nations and a common peasant are valued differently. Think of the struggle, the pain, the suffering one has gone through to obtain his position, and compare that with the arrogant ignorance of the other, of the one who had taken the easier path to living an existence of mediocrity. The Conqueror is therefore of much more value than the Peasant. Do you understand?"

"I think I do…" Mormont said. Was this true for the Gods as well? Had they also held blood in little regard? But what about kingsblood? "But you said blood was worth little in most cases. Are there any exceptions?"

"Hmmm… Yes." It answered. "But you think in terms of how others see it. The children of the Red God are useless, arrogant fools. They know nothing. Kingsblood holds little value if the King in question is a blundering idiot. But let us use your Targaryen Conqueror for instance… He forged his own kingdom in Dragonfire, and created a legacy that will last until your nation inevitably dies of irrelevance. The blood in his veins would be worth much and would garner a bountiful sacrifice, and he would be rewarded in turn. The same, however, could not be said for most of his descendants."

Starag Mormont had paused. "So… You're saying the value of the sacrifice depends on one's personal choices, on what the individual has done with their life?"

The Doom's voice had shuddered in approval. "Correct. You are a most astute listener. Even when you are close to death." It continued. "If the roles had been reversed, and it was the common Peasant who had fought and struggled to acquire his own kingdom, to command armies of his own, to wield the power of a King… If he succeeded, against all odds, then likewise, his blood would be of incredible value. His soul alone would be worth millions of others because he has gone through more pain and adversity. When most had given up or accepted their meager lives, he refused and strove to achieve greater means. For him, it was victory or death."

Mormont was not necessarily shocked by the revelation. Before, he'd not really cared so much about blood sacrifices or anything to do with religion. All he knew was that the Gods were real, and so were Demons.

But he'd been slightly surprised to find that he agreed with the booming voice in the dark. Was the blood of The Mad King worth anything? Simply because he was Targaryen or a descendent of Aegon The Conqueror himself? Mormont didn't think so, and so apparently, had the Doom.

Aerys Targaryen had been a degenerate, at least from what Arthur had told him. He had raped his own wife while the Kingsguard stood outside the door, had been constantly paranoid of his oldest son and heir, had needlessly tarnished his relationship with his best friend and adviser, and most of all… He'd burned Rickard Stark to death with fire while Brandon had choked and strung his own neck trying to save his father.

Men who had made something of themselves were more often than not the ones who were seen as more valuable. They were only about a fraction of the total population. Of course, they were more desired by the Gods…

Mormont had kept following the white tentacle. All the way through the inky darkness until he came upon a massive pillar made of black stone. It was oily, almost like the stuff in Mormont's torch.

He realized that the pillar was not a pillar, but instead one side of a large frame that stretched out further into the darkness. Further than Mormont could see. Inside the frame was a sliding stone door made of oily black stone.

Mormont heard a low hum coming from along the gateway as if the sound and air further down were slowly being sucked out from the chamber and into something else. Or somewhere else…

"This is the gateway…" The Doom had said. "Alas, the Valyrians had attempted to close it before I erupted the Flames…"

"Why was that?" He asked again. "Did they not worship you?"

"They did." It agreed. "And for a long time, they met their end of the bargain. It was not until the Dragonlords had begun bickering and fighting amongst themselves like children that they did not pay their dues. Over time, I was forgotten about. They had taken my gifts for granted…"

So Vekara Solaerys had been right. She had spoken of a Him who rested beneath the earth. This Him had been the monster known so eloquently as the Doom of Valyria.

Mormont tread further along to the whistling low wind that came from the middle of the massive oily black door. There was a large gap in the middle of the door, allowing him to see further beyond it. On the other side…

Through the angle he was looking at, he only saw stars and the black void of space. But as he inched closer, he could see a great black shadow blocking all of the stars. What was it? What horror lay waiting on the other side?

It had gotten a bit harder to breathe, and the emerald green torchlight had begun to flicker. Mormont stepped back so he could finally breathe again.

Beyond, on the other side of the gate, there was a slight shimmer. He swore, only for a moment, that he saw a blinking eye of gigantic, untold proportions. It had gazed curiously at him. Mormont knew that was it, the entity speaking to him, the shadow on the other side of the gateway. The Doom of Valyria.

"So you killed the Dragonlords, then…" He could finish the story himself. It was easy enough to understand. "They didn't pay up in time."

"Of course… I did not care for their self-destructive nature, only that I received what was owed to me."

Souls. Human souls. Mormont could imagine. It had only lined up with what the Doom had said about sacrifice. Blood was easily taken, but a human soul? That itself was difficult to acquire, for it could only be given by one to another, likely by some sort of supernatural contract.

"And what does this have to do with me?" Mormont asked. "I'm no one special."

The Doom had rumbled an amused laugh. "On the contrary…" Its voice had inflected. "You are a very particular specimen… One who has struggled through much, through experiences and pain that would break men by the millions. Your god has already marked you as such…" Mormont had glanced down at the blue tattoos on his arm. "Did you not know? Most curious indeed…" It said sorrowfully, almost with mock pity.

Mormont felt an odd tingle in his gut and had a distinct feeling that it was going to try to… convince him on something. Like the opening of a sales pitch or presentation from a fish merchant. His mind had put itself on guard. It had to. "My god? Who is that exactly?"

"He is the King of your tree gods. He is called the Storm. The One Who Rules The Sky." The Doom explained. "But we are not here to talk about him. You have come for a solution to the children of the Great Other, have you not?"

"I have," Mormont said firmly. "But I've already gotten what I wanted from the tower."

This time, the voice had rumbled and quivered more violently. "Dragons and Steel are useless against them! You only delay the inevitable end of your pathetic race. It will be years before your serpents grow to a capable size, and you know nothing of the magic at your disposal!" The voice calmed in the dark abyss beyond. "Do not be a fool like the Valyrians, my child. Release me from this accursed prison, and I will burn the Others into oblivion."

Mormont had remembered Greyjoy's maddening speech years ago. He remembered all too clearly the intent behind his sacrifice of Mormont. He was in league with this entity from another world, and he wanted the colossal, untold power it held.

And yet… Mormont had also remembered what he'd seen as he walked the desolate streets of Old Valyria. The sheer destructive power alone had toppled one of the greatest empires in the world, in less than a day.

"And how exactly would I do that?" Mormont asked though he had a distinct feeling that he wouldn't like the answer. "Release you, I mean."

The voice fluttered with a pleased sigh. "Give yourself to me, my child. With a worthy sacrifice, the gate will open. Your life must be given in exchange."

Mormont took another step back. He wasn't in the business of giving up his life for just anyone. He'd fought through too much to throw it away now.

The Doom had obviously sensed his apprehension. "Think of your woman… Of your children… The lives of your people depend on this decision. You face oblivion, but if you dedicate your sacrifice to me… I will save them all from the Long Night."

It was then that the accursed doubts had begun to enter Mormont's mind. No! They must be a trick, weren't they?

Surely it would take years for the dragons to grow, longer than any time they potentially had. If the eggs had hatched at all, which Mormont doubted. And what good was a Valyrian Steel blade in the hands of a soldier who was not fast enough to duel against the Others? The result would only be the same as if they held regular steel.

"Had you not come all this way expecting to die? How are you not prepared to sacrifice yourself for your people? For your family?" Its poisonous voice had begun to seep deeper into his mind. It echoed again and again…

Mormont felt his grasp on his mind slipping. He'd almost taken a step towards the bloody gate itself. Anything to keep them safe. It is my duty…

Fighting against the resistance, Mormont took a shaky step backward. No! He had to hold on. He was meant to die with a sword in hand!

The voice on the other side of the gateway had grown more forceful. "Time has taught me patience! But in the face of new freedom…" It snarled. "SUBMIT! End your torment and my own!"

Mormont took another step away from the gate. He couldn't. He remembered. He'd promised Rhaenys that he'd make it home. Safe and alive.

That was when he saw it. Her smile. Rhaenys' smile. Those thin pink lips curled upward into a childish grin. Her violet eyes, the way her dark-auburn hair gleaned in the sun. He saw her holding Duncan's hand, who was holding Thalia's. Little Jeor was sitting on Rhaenys' shoulders, playing with her hair.

They all looked at him. Come back to us. Their voices said. Come home.

He'd made up his mind.

"YOU WILL GIVE YOURSELF TO ME! OR I WILL FEAST UPON YOUR BONES!" The Doom had roared as it watched him step further away from the middle of the gate. Suddenly, Mormont's feet were snagged out from under him, the slimy white tentacle had wrapped and grappled his legs and pulled him closer to the crack that led into the starry abyss.

Another tentacle had reached out and ripped the steel dagger from his belt. Now it held out the knife to him. "It will only take mere seconds! A simple killing stroke and your people will be saved! Is that not what you came for?!"

Mormont glared with the last animal reserves of his strength into the black abyss, and at the titanic shadow that lay beyond it. "Fuck off, Demon." He spat out. If this was his end, he'd go out with one last insult.

The Doom had shuddered violently on the other side of the gate. "Very well. You have doomed your kind to an icy hell! And now you will be consumed!"

Something miraculous happened then. Starag Mormont had prepared himself to be pulled swiftly into the black expanse of space and rent apart piece by piece. However, he was not ready for the deafening scream that came from the Doom. "AAAAAAAAAGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Behind him, he heard the crackling boom of lightning and thunder. Bright bolts and sparks illuminated the great temple he'd been standing in. Giving Mormont a faint glimpse of the monstrosity on the other end of the gateway! He shut his eye so as not to look at it any further. Elsewise, he would've gone mad.

The tentacle gripping his legs had fallen slack as a large bolt of lightning struck it directly. KABOOM! The white appendage had slackened instantly and had been severed from the flailing stump that darted back into the gateway.

Mormont felt himself floating in the air. He dropped the green torch from his hands and let it be sucked into the abyss. Gods, the pull was getting more aggressive! Any moment now he'd be pulled through and would be shuddered out into space!

Then, through no effort of his own, Mormont had been carefully plucked from the air, being pulled back and away from the consuming portal. He felt a slight pressure pin both of his sides. It was like he was a piece on a chessboard being moved away from a compromising position. Now he was floating upwards, away from the ground. Gods, now he must've been fifty feet in the air! Now sixty! And seventy!

The crackling and booming of lightning had continued down in the pit below. Mormont looked to the markings on his arm, but they didn't glow this time. It couldn't be him who had summoned the lightning! Who had done it?

As he floated higher and higher into the air, Mormont felt the wave of nausea and exhaustion wash over him. His eye fluttered slightly, and the aching of his muscles and mind had caught up with him so suddenly.

Just before he let the black take him away, he heard a faint voice in the back of his mind. It was rich, deep, and strangely familiar.

"Now… Sleep."

Years later, Starag Mormont awoke once again.

As his eye fluttered open, he realized that he was back inside the colosseum of the First Flame. Laying perhaps twenty feet away was the corpse of the great black dragon.

The rain and thunder had stopped. Now, Mormont could see the first glimpse of the sun just above the dark red curtain of clouds. It must've been early in the morning. Just before dawn.

His memories came back to him in a fuzzy mess as he strained to his feet.

He glanced back at the pit behind him. Had it all been a dream? It had to have been. Some kind of hallucination due to his exhaustion.

Mormont's hopes had been dashed away once he confirmed that Longclaw was still strapped to his belt. It was the absence of the steel dagger that made his stomach churn with fear.

His muscles ached tiredly. His head rang like a bell, and the scars, burns, and bruises on his body were flaring with fresh jolts of pain. Almost like a thousand needles had punctured his skin at the same time. What was he worrying about? He was alive! And the farther he was away from this blasted pit, the better! Stop feeling sorry for yourself, you bloody fool! You've been given a second chance! Think of Rhaenys! Think of Jon! Think of the man you've got to find and kill! Get out, now! Now! Before the Doom comes back!

Putting the maddening image of the great dark eye out of his mind, Starag Mormont looked to the black stone archway that held his freedom. He had to get out of this place, find Greyjoy, and kill him. End his mad delusions of godhood and save Jon.

With a burning fury and determination. Mormont drew Longclaw and ran up the stairs to his freedom.