Jeor

Dawnbreak was… wrong.

Steve had described the great fortress of the Knights of the Dawn as being a beacon of hope for humanity during the last war against the Others. That Bran the Builder and the King of the Free Folk had taken sunlight from the rising sun and turned it into solid sheets of glowing light, hammering it into great plates that were raised up by giants.

But now, with it in the hold of the Red Skull (and Ygritte was right, that was a far better name than 'The Commander') the entire structure had been corrupted.

Jeor glowered as he looked beyond the trees towards the fortress that lay just before them. The walls were made of light, which should have been awe-inspiring, but the glow they gave off was more sickly than comforting. It reminded him of the candles they had lit in his father's room as he lay suffering from the bowel disease that had eventually killed him. Rather than brightening the room the flicker of those damned candles had made the shadows deeper and twisted everything they illuminated into far more ghastly things. It had made Jeor's father look all the more gaunt, the hollows of his face darkened and the sharp points all the harder. He had marveled when they had finally brought him out, after he had breathed his last, that he looked less like a corpse dead out of that room than he did alive within.

The same was true of the light coming off of Dawnbreak. It was an ill light made by ill things and he could tell from the way the men shifted that they were feeling the same thing. It also made the shape of the castle worse too. Steve had told them it was a boxy castle, squat and with hard corners rather than curves. But thanks to the corruption of the Others it looked like an ugly boil upon the land, filled with pus that was waiting to burst and spew out its stinking cream upon everything.

"They removed the dragonglass," Steve said softly, crouching down and staring at Dawnbreak. When he'd first spotted it he had turned his head and clenched his fists and the winds had grown far colder but after a moment he'd gathered himself. Ever since then he had been utterly focused and calm, which Jeor was hoping was a good thing.

"That's a good thing though, right?" Mance asked. "I know that it mostly hurts wights but it still is sharp rock that could have cut us all up."

"No," Steve countered. "That was not something easily done. Wights aren't known for being the most agile or dexterous."

"Dexa-what?" Tormund said.

"Nimble fingers," Benjen supplied.

"Then jut fuckin' say that!" Tormund said only for Rahne to smack him upside the head to get him to be quiet.

Steve continued, not even acknowledging the two. "If they slip and cut themselves the magic that reanimated them is slashed to bits and they return to just being corpses."

"Fuck," Ygritte whispered. "So either the fuckers had a lot of time-"

"Which they didn't, if Steve's right that he was the first of the Court to awaken," Benjen said.

Steve nodded. "The Commander wasted a lot of wights to remove that barrier."

"So?" Tormund asked. "Less for us to fight."

"Less for us doesn't mean less for him," Jeor commented as he saw exactly what Steve was getting at. "He could AFFORD to lose that many and not lose his advantage." He looked back at the castle. "Tis a message. 'I have an army so great I can sacrifice them for a meaningless gesture'."

"He's trying to make us disheartened," Benjen said.

Steve nodded, standing up. "Then let's not let it work."

It had been decided that half their forces would make for the castle, so that it appeared to the Red Skull that they were a small party trying to deal with him. The other half would wait for a signal before rushing in to hopefully help turn the tide of battle. It wasn't a good plan but there was little else they could do about it; Dawnbreak had been built well by Bran the Builder, with only one main way in or out. There were no side gates or secret passages they could use in order to get through. They had to do a frontal assault. It was their only hope of freeing the prisoners that were being experimented on by the Red Skull.

None of them liked it but as Steve had argued, "Would you accept it if your were captured, tortured, and knew your fate was to die a slow painful death or have your soul tortured for thousands of years by a mad spirit that used your body to kill all you loved… and your rescuers remained outside the gate because it might get a bit bloody?"

While it was going to be far worse than 'a bit bloody' they'd all admitted he was right.

"No point just standing here anymore, I suppose," Jeor commented, rising up. "Let's go."

The first 25 nodded. It had been decided that Tormund and Rahne was lead the second group, in the hopes that the Red Skull would believe them to have perished in his raid on their camp. Rahne in particular, with her warg transformation, could prove to be the tipping point in the battle and thus Steve had stated that they needed to wait for the others to draw out whatever the Red Skull had waiting for them. And since the Red Skull already knew of them those that had journeyed to Crastor's Keep would be heading inside.

"Remember… do not engage the Red Skull," Steve said firmly to those that would be joining them as they waited for Tormund to retrieve the final member of their party. "The only one that might have a hope against him is Jeor and Longclaw will be needed against any wights."

Benjen nodded. "Hack off the heads. Cut off limbs if you can't. Don't piece or stab… that won't stop them and could cause you to lose your sword."

"Wish they hadn't taken down that barrier of dragonglass," Jeor muttered. "We could have harvested some."

"That honestly might be why the Commander ordered it removed," Mance wagered.

Steve though shook his head. "I don't think so. He's clever… too clever for my tastes. He's up to something else and I don't think any of us are going to like it." He sighed and looked over at Ygritte. "You can stay with the second group, if you wish."

She rolled her eyes though at that, whcih Jeor had expected. "I ain't no whimperin' woman. I'm I spearwife."

"Aye," Steve confirmed. "And a spear does nothing. Or a bow."

"I can manage with the sword," Ygritte said but Jeor, who had spent enough time around the woman, could tell that despite all her bravado she was worried. She was going into battle with a weapon she wasn't well practiced in. Honestly he wished he could have gotten her to stay out of the whole bloody affair but the fucking woman would have found some way to follow them and it was better she was visible and not causing problems.

"Here he is," Tormund said, shoving the last member of their party to them. "Still not sure why you want to bring this fucker along." He ripped off the hood to reveal Crastor, a gag in his mouth to keep him from screaming and a blindfold over his eyes just in case the Red Skull had made enough of a connection with him to see through his eyes; Steve had said it was rare and he didn't detect such magics but they were playing it safe all the same.

"We might need him, depending how deep into the council of the Commander he was," Steve said. He took a breath, squaring his shoulders, before he spoke with the same terrible voice that he had used before to compel Crastor to obey. "Lead us into Dawnbreak."

Crastor twitched and began to march forward.

"Be on your guard," Mance said softly, hand resting on his sword. "I don't like this. The hairs on my airs are prickled."

"So are the ones on my cunt and that don't mean shit," Ygritte said but she kept her head on a swivel all the same.

It was only a 10 minute walk to the gates of Dawnbreak and Jeor didn't like what he saw. All the places where traps might have been laid or ambushes set up… were gone. There were signs that snow drifts had been shoveled away, holes had been filled, and the barrier of course was gone. He looked up at the trees but they were so lightly branched that he could see through the canopy of pines easily so there were no wights waiting to drop down on them. And looking towards Dawnbreak he saw that the walls weren't manned and the gate was wide open.

It was as if the entire place had been abandoned.

"It isn't," Steve said and Jeor realized he'd muttered that out loud.

"How can you tell?" Mance asked.

"I can feel it," Steve said. "Be on guard."

"Oh yes," Ygritte complained, "because before we were all just takin' leisurely strolls…"

But even Ygritte soon fell silent and the group made their way through the great opened doors of Dawnbreak and into the courtyard.

Jeor had been in many castles, both inhabited and abandoned. During Robert's Rebellion he had walked through southern keeps where the noble families had long fled and the smallfolks cowered, wondering if they would be killed for sneaking in and sleeping in the halls because their homes had been burned down and they had no where else to go. He had found bandits who had turned small keeps into their private little hideaways and been forced to fight room to room clearing them out. He had walked into castles completely emptied and ones he had been told had no one only to find them thriving with life.

But there was something so very offputting, so very wrong, about walking into the main courtyard of a castle and finding a single man standing there, waiting for them to arrive, arms clasped behind his back as he stood before them like a lord waiting for a procession to arrive.

Except… no one could call the Red Skull a man.

"Ah, Herr Rogers," the Red Skull said pleasantly. "I was wondering when you might arrive. I thought perhaps you would be here sooner but then it occurred to me that you'd be slowed down by your thralls."

Steve didn't even bother to argue against the Skull's attempt to once more equate them as being the same. "We've come for the prisoners. I would ask you to hand them over but we both know you won't do that."

"That is true," the Red Skull said with a casual shrug. It seemed so wrong for one so utterly unhuman to give such a human-like gesture at that. "I am learning so much from them." He began to pace. "Did you know that I have recently had a… disagreement with our King?"

"Thanos is no king of mine," Steve stated.

"Thanos is everyone's king. Yours. Mine. All of these living breathing wastes of flesh." He waved at Jeor and the rest of them. "Thanos rules all."

"I don't think I'll ask the opinion of someone who thinks that face is something to be shown around what a 'waste of flesh' is," Benjen said, causing the Red Skull's eyes to flick onto him. But the First Ranger merely stared him down and eventually the Red Skull just laughed. It was higher pitched than Jeor would have expected but not harsh. No different than any other man laughing. That made it so horrible to Jeor's ears.

"Oh, but you are, Herr Stark. All of you are wastes. After I found myself in this world I began to study humanity and found it… disappointing. Thanos and his bride wish to slay all, believing that the only life worthy of existing is us. He is only half right. All of you are worthy to live but not as you are now."

"Then as wights?" Mance demanded.

"No, Herr Ryder. Not wights." He turned towards Steve. "Have you noticed yet?"

"…you have no army."

"I have no wights," the Red Skull confirmed. "Thanos wishes to remove the living, leaving only us. The glorious immortal titans, able to rule over an empty world, doing as we see fit. All in the name of his vision of a balanced world." The Command let out a scoff at that. "The rest are blind to it but I have Johann's memories, Herr Rogers. I know what happens when you remove the undesirables from the equation: someone else must take their place." He continued to pace, seeming to be in no hurry to confront them. And considering what Jeor had seen Steve do he was in no hurry to rush into battle if he could help it. Especially when there were no wights for him to fight.

"And yet you got rid of your own wights, Commander," Steve said, remaining loose and ready to leap into battle.

"No no no," the Red Skull said, wagging his finger. "I have not tossed them aside… I have replaced them." And with that comment he turned towards the door that led into the main body of the castle… and a familiar figure marched out.

"Rumlow…" Ygritte growled low from the back of her throat. "What did you do to him?"

The Lord of Bones was dressed in the same black leathers as the Red Skull though his were far tighter thanks to his expanded muscle mass. His shoulders were broad and arms thick with corded muscle, making his head look more squat than it had been before. He had removed much of the decorative bone armor he'd worn when they'd first met him, replacing it with new pieces. His arms were gone at the elbows, replaced by two massive mammoth leg bones that created great bludgeoning weapons. The skull he wore over his head was now two different human skulls fused together, discolored and not quite matching. And upon his chest were two crossed arm bones and Jeor had the sinking suspicion that they were Rumlow's own.

"Nothing I didn't ask for," the Lord of Bones rumbled as he stepped next to the Red Skull and bowed his head before turning to them, eyes blazing with the blue light of the Others.

"The next evolution of thralls, Herr Rogers!" The Commander declared. "The strength and speed of our kind… but utterly devoted to us. One of them is the equal to 20 men. Where I would need to create a horde of wights to wipe you all out my Crossbones will be able to do the job well enough."

"You miss counted!" a black brother called out from the back. "Twenty five of us!"

Jeor grimaced. Not good odds… but it did mean they could slay Rumlow while Steve took out the Red Skull and still have their backup.

"Ah… yes… you are correct of course," the Red Skull said. He raised his hand and locked eyes with Steve. "I had been hoping to complete a few more of my creations… it takes a while to break one to my will, to get them to see what must happen in order for them to survive. But complications always arise… you should be proud of those around you, Herr Rogers, they show great strength of will. Of course that will ll soon be turned towards me and my ends up you should be proud all the same. Still, I was forced to awaken my first creation, one I had hoped to use in our first War… until you and your foolish allies delayed victory. But now…"

There was a sudden gust of air and Jeor turned in time to see two black brothers fall to the ground, bodies twitching as they laid on their stomachs… with their heads twisted so they were staring at the sky in their death throes. He whipped back, drawing his sword, only to see that the new arrival had grabbed Ygritte and brought her to the Red Skull, who was pressing her to his body even as she struggled.

As for Steve… he could only stare at the new arrival, all his previous readiness gone.

The figure was shorter than Rumlow and far smaller of frame but that didn't mean he wasn't powerful. Jeor could tell that the Red Skull's new companion was a deadly fighter. He had pale white skin, unnatural in its coloring, and long dark hair that gleams like crystals. He wore black and brown leathers and over his face was a mask that covered his mouth and nose, making the bottom of his face completely featureless and drawing one's attention to his gleaming blue eyes. But most striking was his left arm. Much like Rumlow it had been replaced but rather than sporting something made of bone the figure had a metal arm that bent and moved with a fluidity that showed it wasn't mere armor… and it wasn't mere metal either. It was Valyrian Steel or the improved form like Steve's shield.

"…Bucky?" Steve whispered.

"No longer, Herr Rogers. He straddles the line between Thrall and Other. My grand creation… the weapon designed to not just win the war but to kill you and others like you." The Red Skull gestured at Bucky with a free hand. "The Winter Soldier-"

Steve threw his shield right at the Red Skull's head.

The Winter Soldier easily caught it with his left hand.

"I will leave you to catch up with your dear friend, Herr Rogers. As for me… your battles against me prevented me from finding a suitable host for my dear lover. She has been waiting for me to find a proper form her to take for thousands of years." The Red Skull smirked as he leaned down and nuzzled Ygritte's hair, who let out a string of curses as she tried to escape. "I think this one will work quite well!"

And with that Rumlow and the Winter Soldier charged.

~MC~MC~MC~

Cressen

Lady Shireen was not pleased with their new allies.

When they'd been traveling North she had told them that Heimdall, keeperof something called 'The Rainbow Bridge' or 'The Bifrost' had told her that the Children of the Forest walked the world again and that she needed to find them if she wished to save Westeros.

"I should have known he was smirking for a reason," she'd growled at him the night before, grinding her teeth together as they had watched Drax, the former Brandon Stark, run about the deck of her ship with a barrel stuck on his head because he'd wanted a pickle from it but his hands had been full with a sandwich and a mug of ale (though how he'd gotten hold of either of those when Cressen was rather sure they hadn't had any such foodstuffs packed in the bowels of the ship…) and thus dove into said pickle barrel. She'd merely watched as the rest of his group tried to help him before she'd stalked off to her cabin, commanding Cressen to come and leave 'the jabbering idiots' to their antics.

Now they were on the shore of Hardhome, having cleared it quietly of the wights that guarded the way towards the caves, and were discussing their next plan.

Or, rather, lack there of.

"We have to save Robb," Roslyn Stark reminded them, as if none of them already knew that. "And everyone else that Euron took."

"How?" The Smalljon complained. "That is a cave system… you can't go sneaking through that!"

"You took Knowhere," Gamora reminded him. Cressen had heard about that… a wildling settlement South of the Wall, hidden in a seaside cave. It had sounded utterly impressive and he'd wished he'd been able to explore it himself, to see how they had managed to make a home. How long they had lived there, its history and its growth. He pitied the fact that it was gone.

"We drove you out of Knowhere," the Smalljon said. "My lady… Prince Robb… I would fight by his side against the Lannister horde. But you ask us to rush into a cave filled with wights and an Other Thrall. Their smaller forces already showed that they were able to slaughter my men and add them to their ranks. I will not lead the rest of them to death."

"So you're called Smalljon because of how tiny your balls are, eh?" one of the Free Folk snarked.

"You are welcome to charge in there yourself!" Smalljon snapped, pointing at the cave.

"Enough!" Rickon Stark shouted, holding out his hands. "Listen… I get it… the odds are against us. But… I have a plan."

"YOU have a plan?" Rocket asked from where he was sitting, staring up at Rickon in shock. "You're just copying me when I said that I had a plan!"

"Your plan was to run away and get laid!"

"It's a good plan, right?" Rocket asked, looking at the others. The wildlings smiled and nodded their heads and even some of the Smalljon's men but then Shireen cleared her throat and the Baratheon men glowered at them and their smiles fell. "Okay, we can table that plan."

"I am not copying you. Anyone can say they have a plan! It is a common thing to say."

"Well I don't think you even have a plan," Rocket retorted.

Rickon glared at him. "I. Have. A. Plan."

Rocket just stared at him.

"…I have PART of a plan."

"What percentage of a plan do you have, boy?" Yondu asked.

"You don't get to talk," Gamora snapped.

"Why not?" Yondu demanded.

"You are the last person to talk about plans, Lord "March Into An Obvious Trap And Get Burned Alive"! Same with you, Drax!"

"My plan was rather cunning."

"You screamed at the gates of the Red Keep, "Pull your dick out of your sister's cunt and give me my sister back!"."

Drax frowned. "I didn't say that."

"You might as well have!"

Yondu laughed. "Oh, and you are one to talk? What was your plan after you rode off with Rhaegar?"

"Are you following any of this?" Cressen asked Shireen.

"Yes, sadly," she muttered. "I will explain later assuming these fools don't get us all killed."

"I still haven't heard what percentage of a plan you have, boy," Yondu demanded.

"…12 percent."

"Is that good or bad?" a Free Folk woman asked and the Umber man next to her shrugged.

"12 percent?" Rocket asked before throwing back his head. "hahahahahahaha!"

Rickon glowered at Rocket. "That's a fake laugh."

"It's real!"

"That is a fake laugh. You are just saying 'ha' over and over and over. No one laughs by going 'hahahaha'."

"That is the most real, genuine laugh I have ever given because that is not a plan."

Gamora grimaced. "Its barely a concept."

"You're taking his side?" Rickon complained.

"I am Groot."

"No, we don't want to hear your plan!" Rocket complained. "You don't have a plan either!"

Rickon threw out his hands. "Well, I'd love to hear someone else's plan! Yondu?"

"We get in there and get Robb out."

Smalljon scoffed. "That's not a plan that a goal!"

Roslyn grimaced. "For the Starks those tend to be one and the same."

"I am Groot."

"Would you be quiet?" Rocket snapped at Groot. "We-"

"What did you say about the pollen?" Shireen asked.

Everyone stopped and slowly turned towards her.

"You… understand him?" Rickon asked.

Shireen shrugged, walking over to Groot. He had found a weirwood and was now rather large, which had been startling for Cressen but at this point dealing with a massive walking tree being wasn't the oddest thing in his life. Shireen smiled and began to whispered to Groot, the tree spirit nodding his head and answering back. To Cressen it just sounded like, "I am Groot" being repeated over and over but Shireen seemed engrossed and Rocket's eyes were going wide as the two talked.

"I mean… yeah," Rocket finally said. "That could work if we could make enough of it. Can you make enough without tiring yourself out?"

"I am Groot."

"While I am sure Princess Roslyn is thankful for you wanting to help save her husband she wouldn't want you to hurt yourself," Shireen informed him.

Groot considered, this, bobbing his head from side to side. "I am Groot."

"Okay then." Shireen stood up. "We have a plan. A full one. I need cloth bags, as many as you can get."

The Baratheon men all quickly hurried to do as their Lady commanded, much to Cressen's approval, but the others continued to stand around, staring at her in confusion, not sure what to do.

"Is there a problem?" she asked.

"Just… waiting to hear about the plan," Gamora stated.

"Considering all of you have shown how poor you are at making plans and following them you'll excuse me if I wait until there is no chance for you to mess this up before I give you further information."

Yondu narrowed his eyes at that. "Now see here! These are our mortal enemies! We fought them-"

"And needed humanity to save you," Shireen said firmly, her tone making it clear she wasn't impressed in the slightest with the Children of the Forest. "And your human halves tore the Seven Kingdoms apart because of your foolishness."

"We can handle this just fine," Yondu declared.

"You were doing so well before hand," the Smalljon commented.

"Hey!" Gamora snapped. "I thought you were on our side."

"I'm on the side that saves my men without turning more of them into wights." He nodded at Shireen. "If the winged woman can get us in there then I'm all for her plan."

"A smart man," Shireen said. "Groot, come with me."

"I am Groot."

"No, I am from Dragonstone but now I dwell in Asgard…" She walked off but Cressen remained behind, deciding that he needed to keep an eye on their new allies.

"A smart man?" Drax said with a scoff, looking over at the Smalljon. "More like a lazy one."

"I captured all of you," Smalljon reminded him.

"You were lucky and my fighting skills were muted. The Free Folk don't know how to battle properly and that made my penis soft. Everyone knows you can't fight properly unless you have a hard cock."

Rocket groaned. "And how do you think Gamora and Feathers here are able to fight then you big idiot?"

Rickon shot Drax a dark look. "If you say that women can't fight-"

"I would NEVER say that!" Drax said, utterly offended by the insinuation. "I have seen many brave women fight. Strong, powerful, skilled women who know their way around a sword just as well as a man."

"Oh," Rickon stated quietly.

"It is their nipples that must be hard in order for them to fight. That is why they can not wear proper breastplates."

"…what the fuck is wrong with you?!" Gamora exclaimed, throwing her hands up into the air.

"What?" Drax demanded. "I only speak the truth. You do not wear breastplates!"

"That has nothing to do with needing my nipples to be hard!" Gamora declared.

Rocket laughed, slapping his thigh. "Of course not, you don't have Rhaegar around to suck-"

Gamora thrust out her hand, a dagger leaving her fingers and burying itself right between his legs.

"Careful!" Drax shouted. "Without his penis he will not be able to fight!"

"That… is technically correct," Yondu said, punching the bridge of his nose.

One of the Umber men raised his hand slowly, Cressen watching on with the sensation that he had just seen two wagons at full gallop turn onto the same bridge, only in opposite directions, unable to stop themselves in time. "Wouldn't it be the clitoris for a woman?"

Drax blinked before throwing back his head and letting out a massive boisterous laugh.

"See, now that is laughing," Rickon said, pointing at Drax while Rocket grumbled that his 'hahaha' had counted as laughter.

"Silly man!" Drax proclaimed. "Everyone knows that the clitoris is a myth!"

Gamora, Yondu, and Roslyn just closed their eyes.

"Do I even want to ask?" Shireen asked as she walked over, glancing at Cressen who merely shook his head. "I assumed as much. Come… we can clear out the wights now."

"What is the plan?" Rickon asked as they moved through the remains of Hardhome and towards the caves above.

"Have you ever noticed how the wights are different from corpses?" Shireen asked.

"You mean other than the fact that they move?" He said with what he clearly hoped was a charming smirk and Cressen just shook his head. A Maester swore off love. Swore off home or lying with a woman and fathering children. They were the knights of the mind, just as the Black Brothers were the Warriors on the Wall, the Kingsguard were the swords of kings, and the septons were the weapons of the Seven. All made vows not to lie with a woman. As such Cressen had gone decades without even thinking about such baser needs, to the point that they no longer existed in him and what few memories he had of doing such things felt more like wisps of dreams than reality.

And yet to even Cressen Rickon's attempts to flirt with Shireen were painfully horrible.

"Yes," Shireen said with all the dryness of the sands of Dorne.

"Well… there are a lot of different things about them. But why don't you explain to everyone else what exactly is the difference you are focused on?"

Shireen merely raised an eyebrow at that, not even turning to look at Rickon as she moved towards the cave's opening. "How do you know that a wight is around before it shows itself?"

"I… suppose you hear it?" he offered.

"And how do you know that a corpse is near by."

Yondu was the one to answer. "It stinks to hell and back."

Shireen nodded, crouching down and motioning for the others to do the same. The cave was dim and dark but not so black that they couldn't see and moving carefully the group picked their way forward. Cressen knew, if he had asked, he would have been allowed to remain with the ships. Honestly it would have been the smartest thing to do as he was not fit for battle. But there was never any question that he would go with them, for Shireen was walking into that dark mouth of danger and he wasn't going to leave her on her own. It didn't matter that she was no longer a little girl. He didn't care that she was fully grown, had golden wings, could lift an ox over her head with a single hand, and he'd seen her swing that bladed hammer of hers with such skill that King Robert would have begged for lessons. She was still the shy little girl who had liked to sit on his lap while he tried to smooth away her grayscale scars and play with his chain.

"Corpses don't stink this far North though," the Smalljon informed her. "The cold keeps them from rotting."

Cressen nodded at that. "We use similar methods at the Citadel. In order to learn how to heal the most grievous of wounds we study the corpses of the dead. Of course if we want to keep everything from smelling of rot we can't merely leave the bodies out to fester in the sun. In the lowest levels of the Citadel we have the Ice Rooms, where great blocks of ice transported from the North are brought to us in order to keep the bodies cold. It prevents the normal rot one might see… there are bodies down older than some of you that look as if they died just the day before."

One of the wildlings that had joined them made a sound of protest and Cressen turned, forcing himself not to grimace; the slow crouching he was doing was making his hip scream in pain even with all Shireen had been doing to see him healed up. He didn't know what the potions she gave him contained but they were helping quite a bit… but he still hurt.

Seeing the looks of disgust coming from not just the wildlings but some of the Smalljon's men he shot them all a dark look. "If you dislike it I will leave you to die of a broken toe so you might not be corrupted by my dark learning."

They quickly looked away, embarrassed and ashamed.

Shireen nodded. "The cold here keeps them from rotting… and from falling apart more than they already do. It is why Thanos awaits the Great Winter, when the sun will no longer rise in the sky and all of Westeros is blanketed in ice and snow. It protects his army." Shireen hefted up one of the bags she had prepared and pressed a finger to her lips before making her way along a bend… and Cressen stared at the horrible sight of the wight guards.

They had once been Black Brothers and Cressen wondered if Euron Greyjoy had chosen them to mock them all that he could take those that had been sworn to protect Westeros from the threat of the Others and turn them into his soldiers… or if he just didn't care and had selected two at random. It honestly didn't matter in the end for the wights were dead and stood in their way. One was missing much of its head, with skull cap knocked off revealing a blackened brain. One arm ended in a ragged stump and the other clutched onto a sword that was notched and pitted from constant strikes and little care. The other had seen his face clawed to such an utter ruin that it was impossible to tell where his eyes and nose had been for there was just a single gaping crater above his mouth. That one had an axe in its hands but there were holes in the black uniform it was wearing that let Cressen see through its ruined form to the rest of the tunnel.

Shireen bobbed the wrapped bag a few times before hurling it over the rocks they'd been hiding behind. It crashed against the wights and at once Cressen pressed his sleeve to his nose and mouth. The most foul rotting smell he'd ever encountered filled the air, making the men gag. Thankfully the wights were so consumed with confusion by the strange powder that now coated their bodies that they didn't hear their party as they fought to keep the contents of their stomachs from splashing down onto the ground below.

"The Corpse Flower," Shireen said and he glanced over to see that she'd somehow made her helmet cover her entire face. She held out some fabric to him that had been scented in something that reminded him of pine and he thankfully tied it around his nose and mouth, the others doing the same as she and Groot handed out more of the wraps. "A flower from the Summer Islands. It rarely blooms but when it does it gives off a stench that resembles that of the most sun-bloated corpse."

"Why would it want to do that?" Gamora complained.

Shireen, rather than answering, smiled and looked back to the corpses.

People thought that North of the Wall must be a barren place due to the cold. But all that dwelled there, be they people or beast, had learned how to tuck themselves away. To hide until it was best for them to appear again.

Including the rats.

The scrawny little beasts swarmed out of cracks and crevices that Cressen hadn't even seen, leaping onto the walking corpses and gnawing on the cold flesh. The wights had been designed to overwhelm the living thanks to their greater numbers but now they found the very same strategy being used against them. The rats poured over them, hunger driving them to attack. The wights swiped at the rodents but their movements were utterly clumsy, limbs unable to do more than knock a few away before they found themselves enveloped by the swarm. Cressen grimaced at the sight but watched as the rats quickly gobbled up the muscles that held the wights together, causing their bones to collapse. Even if the magic was still with them bones couldn't move on their own.

Shireen grabbed another bag and hurled it further into the tunnel, the rats giving chase.

"Come on," she said and she rose, moving stealthily past the piles of bones, taking only a moment to bring her boot down on the skull of the one who had his full head. The rats had stripped it of everything, from gray flesh to muscles to even eyes, leaving only hard white bone.

Cressen shuddered and continued on.

They came upon an elevator but Shireen shook her head as Rickon moved towards it, grabbing him and dragging him towards the stairs. "They'll hear us if we use that. We sneak down. Slower but safer." Honestly Cressen was sure Rickon would have complained if anyone else had stopped him but Shireen had touched him and that was enough to get him to quietly accept her suggestion. "We do this quietly. We use stealth and we get the advantage."

They went down slowly. Quietly. As stealthily as possible.

Euron Greyjoy… still noticed them.

"Ah… I was wondering when all of you might finally make an appearance!" he called out, holding his arms out wide as the group stopped on one of the tall stairway's landings. They were about 20 feet off the ground, so close to the bottom and yet so far, and Euron looked at them with an amused smile on his face.

Cressen looked down at the thrall and his captives. There were wights, of course, slowly shambling forward but the maester wasn't fooled in the slightest. He knew from the tales the Children of the Forest and their allies had told of Euron's attack that they could move at startling speeds, cover great distances in moments to overwhelm their opponents. Standing near Euron was a woman with blue skin and metal grafted to her head, her cold hollow eyes staring up at them like they had been painted on. In cages were the prisoners, grabbing onto the bars and shaking them now at the sight of their rescuers, hope filling them. Surrounding Euron were mounds of bloated flesh, covered in thick fluids that the maester couldn't identify properly. And next to Euron, held in place by the thrall's strong hand-

"Robb!" Roslyn cried out, grabbing onto the rail and leaning over it at the sight of her husband.

"…oh!" Euron said, looking at Robb before glancing back up at Roslyn. "You two are together! I've seen plenty of women cry out for their lovers like that… of course normally its while I am holding their heads while the rest of them lay a few feet away." He shrugged. "Well… I suppose I shouldn't keep you separated…"

The only warning they had was the flaring light from the empty socket in Euron's head and then there was a bolt of purple light that struck the landing they were on, utterly shattering the timbers holding it up and causing them all to fall. Cressen cried out but suddenly his fall stopped and he looked about only to realize that Shireen had caught him, her wings unfurled as she slowly lowered herself to the ground. The Smalljon and his men, along with the wildlings, groaned in pain but looked to be alright and Rickon and his allies had managed to roll into a crouch or kneeling position to keep themselves protected.

"Roslyn!" Robb shouted and Cressen looked over to see that Roslyn had fallen away from them… towards a large lake with a sudden dropping shoreline and an inky black surface. The Prince of the North somehow managed to break free from Euron and rush towards his wife, leaping for her and grabbing her wrist… only for the two of them to topple from view.

"Well…that is going to be interest," Euron said before looking over and Yondu. "I must say for someone who swore to defeat Thanos you are doing quite well at going everywhere but his location. You keep meandering around when all you really need to do is-"

Yondu whistled and his red arrow launched out of his coat right at Euron's head. But the thrall was fast and with ease he caught the arrow before he snapped it in half.

"Those work on the wights and the Others… but there is a reason why I am superior to Thanos." He let out a disappointed sigh. "But its clear you are in no mood to talk so I suppose we must resort to fight." He paused before flashing a manic grin. "Oh, who am I kidding… I'm THRILLED you want to fight!" He thrust his arms out wide. "Bring Nuncule Euron their corpses!"

And with that the horde of wights launched themselves at them.

"Cressan, stay here!" Shireen said, setting him down before pulling forth her weapon. "Stormbreaker and I will handle this."

"Yes," Cressen said as he saw Rickon pull out a small crossbow and fire off a burning bolt that stabbed through a wight that had been rushing him while Gamora and Drax did what they could with their dragonglass blades to protect the Smalljon, the Umber forces, and the Free Folk. "I think you are right."

Cressen had not earned a link for battle. There was no such thing at the Citadel. Warriors of the mind. A Maester could understand warfare, of course… each one selected to watch over the Great Houses were expected to know as much. To be able to advise the Lords and Ladies on what to do if their castle was besieged or if the banners were called how to organize the men. Cressen had been given some information on naval battles, but mostly in terms of storms and their affects. But actual fighting? That he did not know and thus he found himself rather useless in the fight, forced to tuck himself away as the others took on Euron and his wights.

And the numbers he had… oh, they had vastly undercounted them all.

"They just keep coming!" the Smalljon cried out as he swung his sword, taking off the head of a wight that had been trying to get at one of his men. The poor fellow had taken an axe to the shoulder… he would live if they could seal up the wound and it didn't become infected but it took him out of the fight and left him vulnerable.

"Then we just need ta keep slicing them apart!" Yondu called out, having drawn a short dragonglass sword and used it to keep the horde at bay. Rickon had a pile of burning corpses around him, filling the air with the stench of burning flesh. At least two of the Free Folk had fallen but whether they were dead or merely injured Cressen couldn't say.

"Thanos has been rather open handed when it comes to me!" Euron declared as he moved along the battlefield. An Umber man took a swing at him with his sword only for Euron to dodge it and then thrust his hand out, the man gasping as ice began to spread across his armor. "Given me several armies, taught me new tricks…" he slammed his hand against the breastplate and it shattered before Euron's eye glowed and he drove his fist through the man's stomach and out his back with the man's spine still gripped in his fingers. "A bit of dragonglass and some fire? That isn't interesting at all. And… it doesn't work on me." He kicked the body away but thankfully it didn't join the horde; Cressen wondered if Euron could raise the dead or if he just didn't care. "The mythical Children of the Forest! I had a nursemaid that would tell me stories about them in secret. My father didn't want us hearing about Greenlander myth. Said it was all lies." He let out a laugh. "And now I am a myth! A legend!"

Shireen roared and leapt at him, nearly taking his head with Stormbreaker.

"Legends don't die," she told him. "But men do." She swung again and Euron was forced to draw his sword, blocking her strikes. "And I gather the dead."

"I'll have to remember to ask you about that once this is done!" Euron declared as the two engaged with each other, metals never meant for the mortal world clanging together as they moved about the cavern. Lightning crackled along Shireen's weapon while Euron's sword sent out shards of ice all over, causing the ground to freeze wherever they hit.

"Hey!" Drax shouted, rushing over to the cages that held the prisoners and smashing the wooden beams that held the doors shut. "You want to die behind bars or with a sword in your hand?"

"The latter," an Umber man said.

"…I don't have swords. Use your fists." And with that Drax raced back towards the wights, letting out a battle cry as he leapt into the air so he might collide with some as they emerged from more of the cave openings.

"He has to run out some time!" Gamora called out as she hacked the arm off of wight before removing its head.

"Only question is if we last long enough- WHOA!" Rickon leapt back as the blue skinned woman with metal driven into her head suddenly attacked him, sending a flurry of kicks and punches his way. "Damn it, I thought you were Gamora's sparring partner!"

"Good girl, Nebula!" Euron cackled as he continued to trade blows with Shireen. "For that I think I'll let you pick one out… make them your pet. Would you like that? Another twisted piece of perfection just like you?" He kicked Shireen hard in the stomach, causing her to skid back. "Maybe you? I haven't ever thought about flying soldiers before."

"Many have tried to claim me… all have failed."

"Their failures don't mean its impossible!" Euron declared before his glowing eye flared and the ice on his sword began to radiate the same energy he swung it wide and Shireen gasped as she found her legs coated in purple ice, locking her in place. The same was true for the other fighters, both wights and the living. Rickon was still firing off flaming bolts from his crossbow and Groot was using his vines to take out trapped wights but everyone else was trapped solid… save for Euron who began to move around the imprisoned warriors. "You know… I considered letting you all fight it out… its been a long time since I was part of a good brawl. But I have things to do, kingdoms to slaughter, Titans to overthrow… so sadly this can't continue on." He walked up to a struggling Yondu, making the ice cover his hands so the Leader of the Children couldn't strangle him. That allowed Euron to casually lean against him, looking up in the air with a look of utter boredom. "I have a feeling that years from now, as I sit on a throne of skulls and a goblet in my hand and every other piss poor cliché used for every world altering warlord, I am going to look back on this day and regret not letting the fight go on longer. 'Oh, you were able to fight the great Yondu, the leader of the Children of the Forest, but you didn't because you got bored and decided to just drive your sword through his throat and then murder all his friends? How stupid of you Euron… you'll never have another fight like that again! What a waste!' I am sure I am going to think that." He let out a dramatic sigh. "Well, such is life." He pushed away and raised his sword.

"We're going to stop you."

Euron turned… and stared at Robb Stark as he climbed his way out of the crater, Roslyn slung over his shoulder.

"I was wondering where you got off to, my prince!" Euron declared as Robb carefully set his wife down. "So good of you to arrive. Now, I want you to watch as I kill your rescuers and I don't want you to watch just because it is some attempt on my part to break your spirit or anything maudlin like that. No no no… I want you to watch because I want you to see how utterly foolish you are to think that you and these fools ever had a chance of stopping me. I mean… I have them all trapped! They are pinned like butterflies on a board, the kind you'd find in a Maester's quarters. And don't think I forgot about you, Gray Rat." Euron pointed his sword right at Cressen who swallowed but refused to be cowed. "I have need of a maester… every lord should have one. So don't worry I am going to spare you." He turned back to Robb. "But stop me? None of you had a chance."

Robb's lips twisted into a feral smile… far too big and sharp for his face.

"We weren't talking about them."

And with that black ooze gushed from his pours and coated his body, causing him to change.

The Prince of the North swelled up, his shoulders becoming broader and neck thicker. Even as the black ooze coated every inch of him the young man kept watching Euron, flexing his muscles and causing them to expand like bread dough. His boots were engulfed before taloned toes formed and he raised a hand, showing off the claws that now adorned his much larger fingers. He rose up, growing to 8 feet tall easily. It appeared as if every strip of clothing he'd been wearing was dissolved by the fluid that poured out of him, leaving only his now smooth, almost oily looking black skin. Every muscle was clearly defined and enlarged; Cressen had seen Gregor Clegane once and the monster Robb Stark had become easily dwarfed him.

The last thing to transform was Robb's head. The fluid covered his face, his eyes hidden behind jagged patches of sharp white while his hair disappeared under the smooth dome of black. His mouth spread even larger, revealing large fang-like teeth and a truly massive tongue that lazily darted out and ran along his lips and chin while veins of white began to pulse from his ebony flesh.

"Oh… oh look at you!" Euron exclaimed in delight. "I knew… I knew you were special, my prince! Tell me… how did you do it! Tell your friend Euron-"

Robb's hand shot out and black goo fired from the back of his wrist, wrapping around Euron and locking him in place.

"You are not our friend," Robb declared in a deep distorted voice. "And we are not your prince. Nor are we your army." He took a step forward just as Euron snapped the black bonds that held him. The others began to break themselves free from the ice but Euron clearly didn't care, dismissing Shireen and all the others in the face of his new opponent. "You were never going to command us… you are just a… collection of tasty treats." Robb tilted his head before he darted out his tongue again, drool dripping from his fangs as he grinned. "Hmmm… eyes… liver… pancreas. So many snacks, so little time. As for us and what we are?"

Robb chuckled darkly.

"We… are Venom."