Eldric

As she let out her fifth string of curses in as many minutes, Eldric couldn't help but smirk. Hardy as she may be in all other circumstances, Nissa was truly useless when it came to bugs—a lifetime living in her father's cool palace, where any such creature would be swatted on sight, had left her utterly petrified and seemingly their most tempting target. In short, there were few places that seemed less suited to her than the jungles of Leng.

In contrast Eldric, who'd grown up on the malaria-ridden streets of Asshai (before the shadow had descended and the smoky air had driven away all creatures), felt perfectly at home as he cut his way through the dense foliage.

Still, he thought as he swatted at his neck, missing the creature by inches, the sooner we're out of here, the better.

In the distance, a twig snapped.

'Quiet.' Yin's order was a scarce more than a whisper, but they obeyed almost immediately, their eyes snapping back to their companion who'd been bringing up the rear. She stood perfectly still, knees slightly bent and her hand on the hilt of her sword, with her eyes fixed on something in the distance. 'We're not alone.'

The three of them moved back to back, forming up in a way they'd done dozens of times before—whether they were outnumbered, outclassed, or simply besieged by an invisible enemy, they'd have each other's backs. It would be better, admittedly, if they had Hyrkoon or Azor with them, or any of the fine warriors they'd met in the West all those years ago, but given their absence, Eldric was sure they'd be fine.

That being said, it would all depend on the quality of their adversary.

It came into view, and suddenly victory wasn't quite as assured.

By R'hllor. I've really got to fight that?

In spite of everything that could kill him—the razor-sharp claws, the glistening teeth that were currently being bared, the low growl and the sheer size of the fucker—all Eldric could focus on was the colour.

When Longstrider talked about Lengii tigers, I never knew they'd be quite this orange. He wasn't exaggerating about the stripes either.

A gift he'd been given by the red priests before he'd left Asshai was a collection of tomes—Wonders and Wonders Made By Man—by a Westerner called Lomas Longstrider. Judging by the contents of the texts, he'd likely gone to more places than any other man, describing all of it in depth that, quite frankly, boggled the mind. Lucky for Eldric, he'd also written of the beasts that roamed the Lengii jungles—had he not, Eldric likely would've been paralysed in fear and unable to jump out of the way when it leapt at him.

The glinting claws scraped his left pauldron with an ear-splitting screech, batting him as he was in the air; what should've been an easy dodge instead resulted with him being launched into the trunk of a nearby tree. The air was knocked out of his lungs, and he'd bet any amount of money that his left arm was dislocated.

Thank R'hllor I've still got my right. After all, who needs two arms to use a spear?

Using his remaining (working) arm, he used his spear to push himself up, staggering on the spot for a moment before charging back into the fray, the point breaking the tiger's skin and resulting in a guttural snarl.

'We thought you were gone for a moment there Ric,' Nissa shouted breathlessly, skirting around the beast's periphery. She made a brief feint with her blade as though she meant to strike, but clearly decided against it. 'Thank R'hllor you're not.'

Nissa, with her twin daggers, and Yin with her short sword were, quite simply, outclassed—if either of them were to get close enough to land a strike, their brains would likely be dashed by massive paws, or their throats could easily be crushed by the tiger's colossal jaw. In contrast, Eldric—who'd been struggling through the jungle in his relatively heavy armour—was encased in excellent protection, and his spear allowed him to reach the creature with ease—

'Shit.' Just as he'd been contemplating the best way to lord his superior preparation over his companions, a lapse in concentration and the ferocity of his opponent meant that his six-foot spear shaft was now closer to three, with the spear head (and the length of wood attached to it) snapping off and falling somewhere on the jungle floor somewhere. If only he'd had both arms in use.

The tiger slowed as if it was aware it had won the battle. From where at had landed after its last attempt at a pounce, it began to prowl toward them, all previous ferocity brought down to a mere simmer. Just as Eldric began to think that well, maybe it's lost its appetite, the pace increased, and it made its approach to the three of them.

Well, at least I had a good run. Two, I suppose. That's more than most.

The three of them dove to the side again, landing in a heap and scrabbling to their feet. The beast, however, didn't move.

Most likely, Eldric realised, due to the foot-and-a-half of wood protruding from its eye, fletching quivering.

A twig snapped behind him and Eldric spun, brandishing the shaft like a sword until he saw who it was.

'You shouldn't be here,' Hyrkoon said, yanking his projectile from the eye of the tiger. 'Leave.'

'What was that supposed to mean?' Eldric asked for what must've been at least the fourteenth time since leaving the clearing. He'd had half a dozen siblings in his last life, and he took pride in his ability to annoy them into answering him being second to none; give him half an hour, and he could have anyone—man, woman or child—talking.

Well, anyone except Hyrkoon. He'd remained silent since pushing Eldric's shoulder back into place, apparently hoping that if he stayed quiet long enough they'd give up and leave. However, he'd clearly underestimated their stubbornness, and so they merely trailed behind him, Eldric incessantly nattering in the vain hope that his old friend might speak to him once more. After all, it had been eight-thousand years or so since their last conversation—was it really too much to hope for a reply?

'No. By R'hllor, No, we can't go in.' Nissa's voice was fearful, and her eyes were widened in a kind of terror that Eldric had only ever seen her show twice before—waging war against the dead, and waking up from a nightmare that had kept her shaken for the next moon's turn. He'd always wondered what could've scared her in such a way, but seeing the great stone doorway in front of him and remembering the writings of Lomas Longstrider gave him some idea.

The Jungles of Leng are home to ten-thousand tigers and ten-million monkeys, but their true threats do not have teeth nor claws, hide nor hair—within the ancient labyrinths beneath the jungle floor, the Ancient Ones will take your fear and multiply it a thousandfold, driving most to insanity or killing them outright. Ten of my companions entered, and two—myself included—were able to leave. By the time of my writing, Benjen (the sole other survivor) had long-since thrown himself from the highest battlements of his family keep. I live every day in terror of what the night will bring, and I attribute it all to that which I saw within the labyrinth, an evil I dare not put on parchment.

To all you who read this, I beg you: do not enter.

'I'm not sure we should do this,' Eldric blurted, a suggestion which immediately had Nissa nodding fervently. There seemed to be a sense of doom emanating from the entrance

'That's what I've been trying to tell you,' Hyrkoon shot back, jarringly angry and in agreement at the same time. 'Leave while you can. I wish to leave more than anything, but I cannot. I…' he trailed off as he nocked an arrow into his bow. Tall as he was, with Eldric—a very tall man by all accounts—only reaching his shoulder, Hyrkoon ordinarily would cut a striking figure, his biceps tight as he toyed with the string of his bow, His golden eyes, however, showed fear, a feeling that Eldric personally believed he was immune to. 'I must hunt. Alone.' With a shuddering breath, he entered the hole, going further and further into darkness with every step.

The three of them were silent for barely a second before breaking into protest, each moving to enter the entrance behind their friend.

Everything became darkness, and as the snaking white root he'd landed on faded from view, Eldric felt fear he hadn't felt in millennia.

Yin Tar

The man rolled off of her, ragged breaths breaking through smiles on both their faces. He was very handsome, Yin thought, and he'd shown rare kindness when she'd met him in that tavern. They were two young people in the prime of their lives, skilled warriors bedding each other before battle; it was the most natural thing in the world.

'So,' the man said in a voice eerily similar to her father's. 'Ready to go again?'

'Of course,' spoke the voice of Yin's mother.

The man rolled off of her, his breaths ragged, hers less so. He wasn't ugly, she supposed, although the satisfied smirk when she'd finally consented had marred his face—which was visibly far older than it had once been—dreadfully for a second, and the muscles that had once been so prominent had faded into naught but flesh. It wasn't as special as it had once been, but who else could she realistically turn to, being an aged soldier with a young daughter?

'Let's go again,' the man said, speaking in her father's voice once again.

'Fine,' came the reply in the voice of Yin's mother, resigned.

The man rolled off her, an odd grunt coming off as he lay beside her. By the Lion, Yin thought, he was ugly—his face was mottled, scarred by a hundred battles and twice as many bar brawls with colour solely provided by rice wine, atop a mass of shapeless flesh that crushed her whenever he clambered on top of her. She told herself she'd leave one day, but knew that it would never happen—the substance he pumped her full of daily left her sluggish and muddled, and any attempt to escape or resist would merely result in another blackened eye.

'Again,' he grunted, readying himself to climb on top of her again.

'No.'

He laughed maliciously and continued to mount her. 'I always like it when you say no. Makes it more exciting.'

'I said no!'

In the corner of the room, an eleven-year-old Yin looked though the ajar door at precisely the moment her father looked around.

'Fine,' he said, turning to his wife again. 'I suppose it's time Yin learnt how to be a good wife when she's older.' Without looking at her, he beckoned to Yin. 'Come here, darling.' His voice had an uncomfortable edge to it and his mouth curled into a sadistic grin

Simultaneously herself and her mother, Yin finally understood. At this moment, her mother had, many years ago, screamed "Wait!" resulting in Yin being shooed from the room. As a child, the subsequent sobs and groans had made little sense, but as she both watched and experienced her father's force atop her, she understood both what could have been for herself, and what had been for her mother. Yin had left a few years after, and the next time she'd seen her mother had been at her funeral whilst her father eyed his daughter hungrily.

Yin, however, was no longer a child, and her mother was no longer quite so helpless.

'Fuck. You,' she said, saying the words that her mother had never been able to say. 'You'll never touch me again, you bastard.'

With that, Yin Tar strangled her father with her mother's hands, rage and fear and relief all bubbling up as his breaths struggled to leave his throat, culminating in a sad gurgle as his body slumped lifelessly onto the bed.

'I'm sorry, mother,' Yin said. 'I'll never leave again.' By now, tears were falling.

Her mother gave her a sad smile. 'It's alright darling. You can leave. I'll be with you always.'

The image faded, and all Yin could see before darkness fell was that smile, resonating through the dark.

Nissa

He was just as she remembered—strong and handsome, with the good-humoured glint in his eye and his mouth curved into a smile. He sat slumped into an ornamented wooden chair, his nails picking at the armrests. As he turned from the women at his feet and looked at her, however, it vanished.

'Oh,' he said. 'It's you.'

'A-Azor?'

'Who else would I be?' His voice was bored and his expression made it appear as though he'd rather be talking to anyone else.

Why was he acting like this? 'I…I thought you were—'

'I don't care, Princess. I broke off our betrothal for a reason. I've got bigger and better things to do.'

'They're defeated, Az. We beat them—me and you, and everyone else. We all came together and drove them off! We survived! Well, I survived…'

He scoffed. 'Of course I survived. I don't see what you have to do with it—it was me who drove my sword into that beast's heart, and me alone.' At this, he moved his knee back and forth, and Nissa could see a familiar looking head beneath his boot, the crown of horns snapped and bloodied. 'And where were you? Living in the lap of luxury in your golden palace, a world away from the danger.'

'But—'

'But nothing! By R'hllor, woman, do you ever stop chattering?'

'It's not true!' she shouted, tears glistening in her eyes. 'I was beside you every step of the bloody way, and this is how you treat me? I love you!'

'I don't care. Leave me.' His face didn't even flicker before he looked back to the women at his feet, the conversation and laughter resuming as though she'd never interrupted.

She wanted to leave. More than anything, she wanted to run, to leave him behind and get far away enough that it wouldn't hurt anymore. But…no, she couldn't. She turned back to him.

She'd given her heart to this bastard, and he would damn well remember her. Nissa moved with the grace her governesses had always praised her for, and in an instant her lips were on his. He was still for a moment, as though every drop of blood in his veins had frozen and rendered him immovable, and she realized that this simply wasn't the Azor she loved. Azor had died—she'd seen the body herself, and she could no longer bring herself to deny it. Maybe he hadn't returned, and he was another of the millions of souls that had left the mortal realm, never to return.

But then he melted into it, like ice when touched with fire. His mouth moved with hers for a moment, before his hands tenderly touched her shoulders, gently pushing her away so he could gaze into her eyes.

'Nissa.' His voice was soft, a far cry from the indifference of moments ago. 'You've no idea how much I've missed you.'

'Az,' was all she could manage before her tears resumed, her brain overcome with joy.

'I'll be seeing you soon, Nissa, I swear it. I love you.'

The image melted away, and all Nissa could see before succumbing to the darkness was the ghost of his smile continuing to haunt her.

Eldric

He hadn't smelt that in years—spiced lamb cooking on an open fire, with the ever-present stench of the local tavern doing its best to penetrate the windows.

'Honestly Ric,' his mother said, wiping a smudge of dirt from his nose, despite the way he towered over her in a way he never had during her lifetime. 'I'd have thought you were running about with the pigs, the way you get mud on you.'

'M-mother.' His voice was barely a croak and was ignored as she went back about her business. 'Mother, you need to leave! There's going to be a fire, you need to get everyone out of here!' Eldric's eyes flickered toward the still-tame fire, and toward the wooden rafters which it would inevitably climb, just as it had so many times before in his dreams.

She continued with her tasks as though he'd said nothing, a curious smile at her lips while she hummed a jaunty tune.

'We need to go! This place is going to go up any moment!'

Again, she ignored him, opening the window and letting in the noise of the street. 'You couldn't run to the wine merchant, could you darling? We don't have much, and knowing your father and brothers as I do, I have a feeling we'll need more.' She laughed at that, a lovely musical sound that Eldric had all but forgotten.

'No! Mother, we need to leave! There'll be a fire, and if I'm not here I can't protect you!'

Behind him, a spark was spat out of the fire, landing on the cheap woollen carpet.

At last she met his eyes, absent all the warmth he remembered so well. 'Of course you couldn't. You never could. Me and your brothers and your father all went up in flames, while you cowered outside! You remember it, don't you? The screams, the stench of burning flesh, the days your brother spent with the healer in agony? Do you remember the feeling of the knife piecing his flesh? The smile he gave you as the life bled out of him? The numbness the wine gave you?' She smirked at him, clearly knowing he did.

'Th-that wasn't my fault! I was ten! I had no way of knowing what would happen, and if I had I never would've left!'

'But you did!' Her eyes were full of fury and she had a voice like thunder—surely this could not be the woman who'd loved and raised him, but rather some demon wearing her face. 'You left us to perish in those flames, and you couldn't even help your brother! You're a coward and a monster!'

'I know!' He stopped for a moment, breathing heavily with tears in his eyes. 'I left you all behind, and the mercy I gave my brother was nothing short of monstrous!' Eldric fell to his knees and gasped out a sob. 'I…I'm sorry mother. I'm so sorry. But…I couldn't save you! There's nothing I could've done!' The tears came freely now, splashing onto the dusty ceramic tiles that were now becoming coated with ash.

The flames had climbed the walls now, and he could feel the heat burning his skin. His mother simply stood before him, apparently oblivious to the fire engulfing her. Her smile was sad but her hands were soft as she cupped his face with her hands, just as she'd done a thousand times.

'That always was your problem, Eldric. You try to save everyone even when it's impossible and blame yourself when you can't. There was nothing you could have done, but you've been carrying the blame all these years, chasing shadows in a vain hope of repentance. Let it go, my boy.'

And then the fire was out, and only he remained in the vast expanse of nothingness, his other fading into darkness, leaving him one final smile.

The Final Companion

The darkness went on for miles, but he didn't light need to guide the way—in the months he'd spent travelling the labyrinths, he knew every turn and every crevice like the back of his hand, and any fire would dull his senses when he finally faced the creature. No, he'd proceed in darkness. Today, the beast would die.

Left, left, right, backwards, over the pit, right again—he moved as though he was in a dance, carefully following every step to perfection, making sure to avoid the meandering white lines that snaked around the ground—he'd seen the nightmare too many times now, and feared that the next time he saw it he might be pushed over the edge. Hyrkoon had reached the heart once before, but upon touching the root—a foolish mistake, really—the nightmare had taken over he'd awoken at the entrance had, unable to sleep for the next week. Whatever this creature was, with its long limbs and glowing red eyes, it would soon meet its end at the hands of Hyrkoon's arrow.

The wind was always cold and harsh, but Hyrkoon was never deterred—nor were his missiles. Despite the bombardment of the elements, each arrow found its mark, driving sharpened obsidian though the hearts of those who opposed him. Still, it wasn't enough. They were losing.

Hyrkoon looked to his side. Yin Tar was leading the charge, her sword carving its way through their enemies, her faced etched in a perpetual grin as instinct took over. Nissa was there, wielding her blades in a flurry befitting the blizzard they were trapped in. She gave a mighty shout as her weapon hit home and her adversary collapsed into dust. For a moment, she stopped, catching her breath, but a moment was all it required; an icy projectile was heading for her, and there was no way she could move in time.

She didn't have to. A glistening obsidian point batted it away into the torso of another of those creatures, and in the same fluid motion, Eldric ended Nissa's attacker in a brutal thrust. The three of them were back to back, cutting down vast swathes of the Night King's soldiers. They didn't need to kill them all; rather, they just needed to buy enough time for Hyrkoon and Azor to do their part.

"One shot," Azor had told him before In Winter's Hold. "One shot at the right moment, Hyrkoon, and I'll be able to defeat that beast."

The moment had come. Azor was making his way to the Night King, and Hyrkoon had a clear shot. He nocked his arrow, and slowly pulled the string back, his bicep straining as he took aim. A second passed as he took a deep breath, and he let loose the arrow that could help finally end the war. It flew in a perfect arc, apparently immune to the wind and snow, rising and falling just as he'd intended. If I don't do this, Hyrkoon would always think, everyone will die, and it would all be my fault.

It missed. It had been an inch shy of the beast's head and fallen into the snow in anti-climactic silence—just as it always did—and the absence of any distraction left Azor all alone—he could've lasted seconds; he could've lasted hours. The result was always the same. "Hyrkoon," he'd say, every time without fail. "This is your fault."

With that, Azor Ahai would die, and Hyrkoon would awaken at the labyrinths edge, taunted by the Night King's almost imperceptible smile.

That, he decided as he delved deeper into the labyrinth, would not happen this time—he'd avoid the white roots and the nightmares they brought, and when he reached the heart of the maze the beast would die. By now, he'd been walking for hours, strangely missing the noise that his friends—who would still be lying motionless at the maze entrance—had brought. After all, he'd been here for months and had barely said a word in that time, and he'd been hesitant to talk to them after they'd joined him. The pain of truly having them back, all to lose it to the beast was too much to bear.

He was here. The heart.

When he'd last been here, Hyrkoon had found it familiar, as though he'd seen it once before in a dream lifetimes ago. Now, however, with memories brought back by the return of his friends, he knew what it really was as he lit the torch at long last.

A weirwood tree. He'd seen them before in the West, great white trunks with sorrowful faces carved into them. They weren't venerated by any means, but Brandon had told them that they were kept strong and pure by respect for the gods. Whether that was true or not, Hyrkoon did not know; all he did know was that this tree was in no way pure.

Rather than sadness, the tree's face was etched into a look of strange joy, just as the Night King's grin always was in the vision, eyes turned downward and the mouth curved upward, as if it was watching Hyrkoon suffering and having the time of its life. Well, it would do so no longer.

Hyrkoon nocked his bow with haste, and let the arrow loose without any ceremony—it would be near impossible for an archer with his skill to miss from this range, and the sooner it was done, the better. The arrow hit the trunk will a dull thunk, and he turned away, having vanquished the creature at last. Still, he carefully avoided the roots—even if it was dead, he'd rather not risk the visions if at all possible. He carefully stepped over the tendrils, but as his foot touched the ground once more, Hyrkoon heard something he hadn't expected.

Splash. Thick red sap was bleeding from the tree as though his arrow had pierced flesh rather than bark, and before the nightmare took hold once more he could only cringe at his own arrogance, believing that he'd vanquish the beast so easily.

He stood still, even as Azor was getting dangerously close to his enemy, only moving to nock his arrow when confrontation was inevitable. If I don't do this, Hyrkoon thought as he always did, everyone will die, and it would all be my fault.

But would it be? Sure, he had a part to play, and admittedly it was an important one, but this was not an army of a few he was part of, but rather of man. Men, women, and even children, all stood shoulder to shoulder against a threat that had united the world. No, if he missed, if Azor died, there'd be another. Maybe Eldric or Nissa or Yin, maybe Brandon or Lann or Garth, maybe none of them, or maybe all of them. Another would take their place, and as long as one man stood against the Night king and his hordes, he would never truly win.

With that, Hyrkoon closed his eyes and let loose the arrow. It flew as it always did, in a seemingly perfect arc that headed directly for the Night King's head.

And as it had happened only once before many millennia ago, it was on target. The enemy saw the projectile's aim was true and lurched his head to the side. It was a moment's distraction, but that was all Azor had needed—his sword found itself plunged into the Night King's heart just as the sun began to rise over the horizon, the light blinding Hyrkoon until all was white, mercifully absent the haunting grin.

He stood over the three of them, having pulled them in their slumber from the entrance of the labyrinth, the snaking roots of the weirwood having vanished. Hyrkoon smirked and knelt down to Yin's ear.

'Wake up!' he bellowed, resulting in the three of them lurching upwards, their heads colliding with a resounding clank followed three distinct strings of profanity.

'By the Lion,' Yin gasped, her eyes darting around as though she wasn't quite sure where she was, 'What was that?'

'It's a long story.' Hyrkoon didn't elaborate, but rather moved to help the three of them up. 'We should get moving.'

'Moving?' Eldric muttered. 'Move where?'

'Isn't it obvious, Ric?' Their forearms still clasped together, Hyrkoon looked his old friend in the eye. 'West.'

In the godswood of the Red Keep, the autumn foliage rustled briefly in the wind before once again stilling. All was tranquil; all was still.

All, except the single leaf, red as blood, breaking through the damp morning soil.

A/N: Another chapter done, for your viewing pleasure. I know these characters are only semi-canonical, so apologies if you're not a huge fan of them practically being OCs (although the same could be said for a lot of the characters who never appeared in person in the ASOIAF books). As always, feel free to favourite, follow, and review, and a massive thanks to those of you who have-you're the ones keeping me motivated.

University has started to get a bit busier, so updates may be a bit less frequent, so apologies in advance for that. Next time will return us north, to Jon, Sansa, and a certain wildling Princess...

Thanks again for reading, and stay safe,

-Kinginthenorth1 xox

Kingmanaena-Cheers!

Mister LaGuardia: Have no doubt, Jaime will currently be very unpopular amongst those who've returned, given he he murdered one of their descendants, shagged his sister, is suspected of having a hand in crippling Bran Stark, and generally just having the surname Lannister. With Brienne still in the North, he won't even have any vague sort of defence. He will, however, have some role to play in the wars to come.

Blackwidow: Cheers mate, glad you enjoyed it :)