AN: So here is the next chapter of the Frozen Throne, I have to say I was impressed with the response the tester chapter got and the offers of help, enough to get this one out promptly. That being said I appreciate that the story might not be everyone's cup of tree, but I do appreciate the review, and will endeavour to make it a good, satisfying read for as many as I can, whilst also writing it in the way I want to.

So yeah, without further ado here is the next chapter, I hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Game of Thrones, as you might have guessed.

( - )

(Last Time)

Which was unfortunate as Percy then opened his mouth and let out a scream of agony, his body contorting as he felt an unfamiliar energy burning through his veins, his green eyes widening as he did so, his right one rapidly turning the same icy blue colour as the creatures, even as his other resisted, the Demigodly blood in his body trying to resist this foreign energy invading his system, even if the human half of him submitted at once and was devoured.

Percy wasn't sure how long this went on for, it could have been minutes, or it could have been hours. But it eventually stopped, the pain receding even if the cold didn't, though it did become far more tolerable, almost unnoticeable.

What wasn't unnoticeable though, as he lay on his back in the snow, looking up into the terrifying eyes of the creature above him, was the slow deadening of his pain, the almost ethereal whisper he could feel echoing around his head, and the sudden realisation that he was no longer dying.

( - )

Chapter 2

( - )

(With Percy, a few months later)

Walking forwards, Percy could feel his booted feet crunching on the crust of ice and snow that covered the ground below him, and could hear the wind rustling in the tall spindly trees that dotted the landscape, and the nearby roar of the sea as it crashed against the shore.

On top of that he could feel his heart beating within his chest, and his lungs working, for all that he should be dead considering the state he was in when he first awoke in this icy tundra, he was still alive, or at least to some degree. As despite the freezing cold atmosphere he couldn't see his breath misting in front of him, nor could he feel any warmth from his body, instead everything just felt cold.

But, perhaps more surprising than that, was that this constant feeling of cold didn't bother him, nor could he call it all that unpleasant. No, instead it just felt strangely normal, comfortable even.

Suffice to say it was an odd feeling and one he was still trying to get used to. After all he had been born warm blooded, and although he was always able to bear with the cold, especially on quests, he had preferred the warmth of the fire at Camp Half Blood, and the heat of the sun on his skin.

Pushing aside these odd thoughts, Percy instead continued to make his way through the frozen forest. Feeling as he did so, the familiar strength that was flowing through his limbs as he climbed up the brow of a slight hillock.

Reaching the brow, he was momentarily exposed to the elements, and could feel the freezing cold wind and snow whipping about him, the few tree trunks on the hillock groaning and cracking as the cold froze the sap within them, causing expansion which cracked the wood of the trunk.

Not that any of this bothered him, as he had now reached his destination, the slightest hint of a smile spreading across his face as he looked over at the partially frozen over sea, the one on the far western coast of this icy tundra he found himself in, a far cry from the intense heat of mainland Europe.

Upon finally reaching the coast line, Percy's eyes looked out over the stormy, wild waves, noticing how it was dotted with floating icebergs as he did so. With the ocean waters looking almost grey, like steel, as the dark clouds overhead hid the sun and the powerful wind turned the waters wild, causing waves to crash down on the frozen shores of the mainland with a loud roaring sound.

It had been a number of months now since Percy had first awoken in this strange new land, or rather since he had been reborn in this place, and he uses reborn in a rather liberal sense. After all he had not been literally born into this world, so much as he had just appeared the same as he was before, though on the brink of death, only to be given a second chance at life, after which he was born a new, as something different. Something new.

After all the last thing he remembered before arriving here in this new place, this new realm, he had fighting on the slopes of Olympus, or to be more exact he had been dying.

With him having consumed too much Nectar and Ambrosia, food and drink of the Gods, during that final battle against Gaia and her forces, far more than his Demigod body could handle. Something which he knew at the time, but he still went ahead with, all so he could continue the fight, continue lashing out at the world and everything in it, all so he could continue to avoid dwelling his memories of Tartarus, and the scars his experience there had left on his soul.

Either way he had been dying, with his excessive consumption of Ambrosia and Nectar, although healing him and energizing him far beyond his limits to begin with, had then begun to kill him. With the Divine food and drink having caused him to start burning up from the inside, with his organs having started to crumble into golden dust, and his blood have begun to boil in his veins, beginning to turn into golden ichor as it became more like molten lava than the life giving fluid it should be, disintegrating his Demigodly body as it did so.

The fire within him though, the agonizing, all consuming burning sensation, had been soon quenched upon his strange and unexpected arrival here, in this strange, cold and desolate new land. This land of ice and snow.

With him being brought back from the brink of death, quite literally, brought back by some unnatural, demonic creature as something different, something new, half god, half something else.

Looking down at the steely grey sea below him, Percy raised a pale hand up in front of him, concentrating as he then tried to control the water below him to rise up like a wall, something he had done many times before back when he had been training in Camp Half Blood. However, unlike before where he could manipulate and control the oceans waters at will, the water now resisted, before it froze over and began rising up like he wanted it too.

This he had noticed always seemed to happen now, when he tried to control water it completely froze over, on top of that he had found that he no longer felt the same connection to the sea that he once had. Previously he had always had a sense of belonging when looking at the sea, feeling as if it was an old friend, one which was beckoning him home.

Now however the sea felt colder, more hostile and unwelcoming, shying away from his touch as if it were disgusted by him, with it recoiling and resisting as his power froze it and then manipulated it. It was a very jarring feeling, this disconnection with his father's Domain.

Reaching out to the wall of ice in front of him, Percy ignored the sea as it continued to rage against the coast, the waves getting bigger and the winds harsher, as if some fel power was railing at Percy, furious with him for trying to usurp control over the sea.

No, Percy ignored this as he instead traced his hand down the wall of ice, manipulating its surface as he made it reflective, showing Percy a mirror image of himself as he did so.

This was something he had gotten into a habit of doing recently, not for egotistical or narcissistically reasons though, but instead due to his curiousity over what he saw in his reflection.

Percy's physical appearance had changed a lot since coming to this world, and being reborn, though not through the traditional way people think of when the term reborn or reincarnated is bandied about, but rather through being infected, or rather turned into something else.

With his humanity having been stolen from him, that part of him dying and turning into something else, he wasn't sure what, he just knew that they called themselves 'The Others', which was not really that catchy a name in Percy's opinion. Though the name the savage locals gave them, the White Walkers, was admittedly somewhat catchier, if a little cliché, and dare he say it racist?

Either way he had changed, his previously dark black hair had turned pure white. And his formerly tanned skin tone had become as pale as freshly fallen snow. On top of that his right eye was now a cold, icy blue colour, whilst his left was an equally cold, sea green colour, though why that was the case Percy didn't know. Though he suspected it being some kind of symbolism for the death of his human half, and the birth of the new White Walker part of himself. That or it was just a weird magical anomaly.

Fortunately other than that he had mostly stayed the same, retaining his strong build, and facial features, and not growing any horns like the one that had turned him, the Night King, had.

Trailing his hand down the wall of ice in front of him, Percy's head tilted to the side. It wasn't just his physical appearance that had changed, his emotions he noticed, now felt deadened almost, as if the cold had sunk into his very soul, making it harder, icy and darker. Dulling positive emotions like pity, compassion and joy, and even some of the darker emotions, like anger and hate, stripping him of inhibitions he never knew he had.

On top of that he could now occasionally feel the cold, uncaring, insidious voice of the one who turned him, the Night King, whispering in his head, occasionally making requests and demanding his obedience.

Which was something Percy often struggled to resist or ignore, especially when in close proximity to the one that had turned him. That being said he had found that he could, if he truly put the effort in, ignore the Night King's whispers. Of course that was only if he wanted to, and for the most part he found that he couldn't quite muster up the desire to bother, his deadened emotions no doubt being the cause of this.

Did this make him a slave? A servant to the one who turned him? Like some thrall or fledgling vampire would be to their Master, maybe. But Percy liked to think that he wasn't, he could resist if he wanted to after all, though for the most part he just couldn't be bothered to do so. Following the Night King's commands gave him something to do, they gave him purpose, a reason to use his strength, sort of like a Demigod being given a quest.

"So are you going to look at your reflection all day?" A cold, slightly harsh sounding voice spoke up behind Percy, drawing his attention as he looked away from the reflective wall of ice and to the source of the voice, allowing the wall to crumble and return to the raging, angry sea around it.

"Sylvanas." Percy said bluntly, looking at the newcomer his head tilting to the side as his heterochromatic eyes scanned her up and down.

Sylvanas was somewhat like Percy, in that she had been a human once, a Free Folk as she had called herself. One who had once lived in the far north of the continent he now had found himself in, many hundreds of miles from a six hundred odd foot wall of ice which apparently separated the far north of the continent from the south, a somewhat over the top structure which was 'inventively' called 'The Wall'…, and which was apparently guarded by a group of 'southern' humans/ kneelers/ craven eunuchs, who wore all black armour and cloaks and were known to many as the Crows.

Either way Sylvanas had been born a human, the chief warrior of her tribe, the Windrunner's Clan. A large and old tribe of Free Folk that had migrated to the distant north, lived as far from the Wall, and the other, much larger, warring Free Folk Tribes, some of whom were apparently cannibalistic, as possible.

With Sylvanas's hardy and tough tribe having prospered for many generations, growing larger and larger in the relative isolation of the far north, laying down roots, and later expanding outwards as they did so to compensate for their growth.

Or at least they had prospered for a while, before the Night King and his elite warriors, the White Walkers, had been awoken from some kind of slumber by her tribe's expansion northward, and hunting and ranging.

With the Night King then beginning his journey south, wiping the whole tribe out over the course of a few days, with those that died being reanimated as undead foot soldiers, and becoming the first warriors in the Night King's ever expanding legion of the dead.

That would likely have been Sylvanas's fate too had it not been for her impressing the Night King with her determination and tenacity, or rather irritating him, with her even going so far as to kill two of the Night King's elite warriors, her dragonglass arrow heads bringing them down and ending their lives permanently.

An impressive accomplishment, which said a lot about her skills as a warrior, and one which the Night King rewarded by having her captured, and then turned into one of his White Walkers. With Sylvanas like Percy having had her humanity stripped away as she was forever changed, her emotions like Percy's having been deadened, even if her memories were not compromised.

Of course this had apparently been about a decade ago, which had given Sylvanas more time than Percy to acclimatise to her new existence. With Sylvanas herself having even less free will then Percy when it came to the Night King's whispers, most likely due to her having not been fortunate enough to be born half god like he is.

Either way the woman had managed to retain trace amounts of her old personality, even if she had likely become colder and less emotive than she had previously been due to the Night King's influence, which seemed to be the case for all of the Night King's White Walkers, and maybe the same for the Master himself.

Looking the woman up and down, Percy was once again struck by just how beautiful she was. She had a lithe, strong body, with waist length white hair that she had tied back in thick plait that ran down her back, so it did not inhibit her vision. Her skin was as pale and flawless as Percy's own was, and her features were delicate, and entrancing. On top of that her eyes were both the same cold, icy blue of Percy's right one, and they seemed to almost burn into Percy's soul whenever she looked at him.

To add to her striking appearance, Sylvanas, like Percy himself, was also clad in armour, a form fitting, archaic set of dark coloured armour, one which, like Percy, she had been given by the Night King soon after being turned. Though from just where he had scavenged them Percy didn't know, though he suspected it was likely from some ancient civilisation in the far north of the content, one which was probably linked to his origins, whatever the hell they were. With Percy's new 'boss', not exactly being the sharing or caring type.

Where Sylvanas differed from Percy though, was in her weaponry, with the beautiful white haired woman using a dark black, longbow, with bladed tips as her primary weapon, with her also using sharpened shafts of ice as her arrows. Percy however just used Riptide, or rather what was left of his old sword, the hilt and a broken inch and a half of the Celestial Bronze blade being all that remained after the battle with Gaia. Percy having used his powers to re-forge his old sword from enchanted ice.

"Come, we should not linger here, night is coming and we are moving south." Sylvanas replied to Percy, her tone cold, but also holding a slight hint of amusement in it as she eyed him up and down.

"Of course we're heading south, it is all we ever do." Percy replied dully, fully turning away from the sea now as he approached his companion. The Night King having split his elite warriors up into pairs, pairs that he then sent ever southward, all of them ranging out to attack the Free Folk settlements, driving the living south as they did so.

"We're building an army, to do that we need bodies." Sylvanas responded bluntly, shrugging her shoulders uncaringly as she then began striding back to where their column of two hundred or so undead soldiers were. "The living are at least useful for that much."

Percy absentmindedly nodded at that, no finding enough passion within himself to really care. Though he did question the point, after all there were many thousands upon thousands of people who had died in this land over the years, so there really was no end to the amount of bodies they could find if they actually looked.

With the Night King's influence having not only given the two of them control over ice, though to different degrees as Percy's control was far greater than Sylvanas's, but it had also given them necromantic abilities, similar to the ones the Children of Hades were born with. Abilities that they used to reanimate dead bodies, and turn them into a fighting force.

"Now come on, my carrion birds spotted a human settlement some twenty leagues from here." Sylvanas continued, looking up at she did so at the large undead ravens she controlled, and used to scout with. "And then after that we will continue south, following the coast."

Percy frowned at that, but nodded, she had a point they were heading ever south, ranging out further and further as they did so, guided by the Night King's commands.

Already they were some hundred or so miles away from where they had originally found Percy, lying in a plain of snow on his death bed, and since he had awoken they had been continuously on the more, none of them needing rest, or food, or sleep, as they permanently trekked south, with the Night King, who by this point was close to ninety miles further north, leading the main body of his undead legion, and raising the many dead who lay beneath the ice and snow from their eternal slumber, and adding their rotting or skeletal corpses to his legions.

With the Night King taking the often sending his elite Wight Walkers out to drive the Free Folk from their haunts and into the wilds, where they would die from either exposure to the snow, or lead them to other larger groups, all of whom they were to raise and then send back to him.

That was what Percy and Sylvanas were doing at the moment, they were pushing along the coast searching for Free Folk, killing any they found and reanimating them as they did so. The two of them being sent further south than their brethren, though for reasons as of yet unknown to them.

"Now come on," Sylvanas added, a hint of impatience entering her voice now as she looked back at him, a hint of irritation flickering through her eyes, a glimmer of emotion, one which he had not seen before.

"Coming." Frowning at this, Percy titled his head to the side curiously before he dismissed it as nothing, with him instead just sighing, before he then followed after Sylvanas.

( - )

(A few months later)

Ignoring the screams and shouting of the Free Folk as they fled through the frozen forests, there was a disinterested look on Percy's face as he strode after them, his sword in one hand as he cut down any mortal foolish enough to stand against him, or try and face him one on one.

His blade freezing the blood in their veins with but a touch, and shattering or scything through their poor quality iron and copper weapons.

Lifting his hand Percy conjured a spear of ice from thin air, after which he then hurled it forwards, the projectile striking a fleeing woman in the back, impaling her through the chest and forcing her to drop her own spear as she collapsed to her knees dead on impact, after which she then fell forward face down in the snow unmoving.

This wasn't a battle that much was obvious. These barbaric savages, they had no real armour save for thick furs and scraps of leather and iron, nor were they properly armed or trained, and they certainly weren't prepared for what they faced.

Looking around, Percy's now heterochromatic eyes held little emotion as he surveyed the ongoing chaos, watching as his undead soldiers threw themselves forward, some of them armed with their own primitive weapons and armour as they hacked and slashed at the living, others however just threw themselves forward bodily, tackling the Free Folk to the ground as they did so, before they then began ripping into them with teeth and nails.

No, this wasn't a battle, this was a wholesale slaughter, a slaughter of humans by monsters. Percy twitched slightly at that thought, his sword lowering slightly as he realised he was now one of those monsters, the antithesis of what he had once been.

Before he could think any more on this disturbing thought though, he was distracted by a loud war cry behind him, following by a set of heavy footsteps crunching on the snow, and heading in his direction.

Twisting on sheer instinct, Percy's blade was up and ready, his heterochromatic eyes gleaming, his lips curling back to reveal a glint of his pearly white teeth as he saw one of the savage humans charging at him. A boy of barely fourteen, clad in thick white and grey furs, and wielding a crude axe that looked to be made out of some kind of bone, probably animal, but also potentially human.

Raising his sword, Percy prepared to cut the boy down, spotting at least half a dozen gaps in his defence as he bull rushed him. The young boy, not even a man, likely knowing his chances were slim to none, but charging any way.

Seeing this Percy's head tilted curiously to one side, his mind flashed back to several instances where he had done the same, throwing away common sense for the sake of friends and family as he challenged a more powerful, skilled and experienced opponent, Ares and Atlas for example.

That thought stayed Percy's blade for a moment, the never-ending whispers of the Night Lord disappearing for a split second as Percy just watched the boy charge him, noticing the whites of the boy's eyes as he looked at Percy in terror. There was a saying Percy had heard back when he had still been back on earth, 'courage is not the absence of fear, but the ability to triumph over that fear'.

This boy, for all he was pissing himself in terror, was still charging Percy head on, willingly charging to his death as oppose to hiding and fleeing. Percy's lips twitched upwards at that, even as he felt something rush by the side of his head, an arrow of pure ice then striking the boy in the chest, felling him in a single instant as it froze him from the inside out.

Percy tilted his head to the side at that, the slightest hints of pity rising up within him at the boy's life being cut so short, who knew just what he could have become. Though considering he was born in a cannibalistic tribe on the coast, it was likely he would have become more terrible than great.

"Don't get distracted." Sylvanas's harsh voice spoke out behind him, catching Percy's attention as he turned and saw the white hair woman, of indeterminate age, holding her black bow, her face contorted into a mask of distain as she twisted round and struck down two of the humans around her, the bladed tips of her bow momentarily extending into twin blades of ice as she did so.

"It's over." Percy replied calmly, looking away from Sylvanas now as he instead surveyed the battlefield, the Free Folk's village was well and truly overrun now, with nearly all of the population now lying dead or dying on the snow, their blood dyeing the frosty ground below them pink.

"I'll hunt for stragglers, you raise them." Sylvanas grunted in response, before she raised a closed fist into the air, and took off into the surrounding forest, some twenty odd undead wights following after her into the trees, even as she nimbly started dancing through the trees, her bow drawn back and an arrow of ice already forming.

Rolling his eyes at this, Percy ignored his partner's overzealous actions for the moment, as he instead sheathed his sword at his waist and looked over the massacred village, the cold wind whipping around his armoured form, bringing with it the cloying, metallic scent of blood.

Ignoring this now familiar smell, Percy instead raised his arms raising into the air, both his eye snow flashing a cold ice blue, even the sclera turning bure blue, following on from which icy power quickly flooded through his limbs, even as his gaze trailed over the piles of dead bodies.

In response to this, the corpses of the recently dead began to twitch, before they then began to move, dragging themselves to their feet, ignoring the grievous wounds that killed them, their own eyes now glowing a cold, hoarfrost blue colour as they were reanimated, and brought back in a ghastly imitation of life.

"Come." Percy then muttered, dropping his arms after a few minutes, his army having now doubled in size now he had added the bodies of the dead to their number. With him then turning and walking. Heading ever south as he did so, his army shambling after him on mass, even as Sylvanas continued to run through the surrounding forests, hunting for any of the living that had escaped the massacre.

With Percy knowing as he did so, that this same scene was likely happening across the country as the Night King's twelve elite warriors, butcher the living in his name, and built his legions, driving the Free Folk back as they did so, forcing them towards the southern human's wall of ice.

A wall of ice which would become like and anvil, one which the legions of the dead would hammer the living against, massacring them, before they then added their dead bodies to their own forces.

( - )

(Sometime Later)

"Go south, go beyond the wall of ice, and lay the foundations for my coming!" The Night King's cold, cruel voice whispered inside of Percy's head, images flashing through his head as he did so, images such as those of settlements being racked by plague and pestilence, with mounds of bodies lying in the streets. This image being followed up by another one, this one showing armoured knight fighting against armoured knight as war overtook the lands of the south, as brother fought against brother, whittling away their own forces and paving the way for the Night King's victory.

"Go, become my scourge, bring the lands of Westeros to their knees, and then, once that is done, bring down the wall from behind." The Night King's insidious voice then continued, new images coming with it as a vision of Percy leading a horde of undead, armoured men, attacked the massive wall of ice from behind, butchering the black cloaked men who guarded it as they did so, before then opening it up for the Night King and his legions to continue his advance southwards.

Percy scowled as this was happening, his face twisting in distaste as he forced the voice of the Night King away, something which was becoming easier and easier the further away he got from the horned creature.

"I take it he spoke to you to?" Percy asked as he glanced over to Sylvanas by his side, the human huntress, turned undead abomination shot him a sideways look at that, before she nodded, her icy, blue eyes then flickering back to the gigantic structure in front of them, the Wall.

"We are to cross beyond the Wall, the Night King and his other elites will continue to slowly advance south whilst we begin our work beyond the Wall." Sylvanas nodded, a momentary look of distaste/ unbridled hatred on her face at the mention of the Night King's name, before it disappeared almost as quickly as it appeared.

Percy nodded at that having not noticed the look, as he instead eyed the giant wall of ice. The two of them, and their miniature army of undead warriors having now ranged far beyond where their fellow Wight Walker's had gone, with them now being nearly six hundred miles from the Night King as they pushed southwards, following the coast as they did so and razing any village, settlement or camp they came across, to the ground as they did so, even as they then raised the dead for their own army.

Not that they had come across all that many Free Folk to prey upon, after all the savage humans seemed to have wised up, and already there was a southward migration as Free Folk fled on mass to the Wall, trying to get beyond it, just as the Night King had planned.

In fact the humans had now begun to join together in a massive band, all under the command of some kind of upcoming King Beyond the Wall. A human who had begun gathering the tribes some years ago, with very limited success, though it appeared the actions of Percy and the others had spurred them onwards, and aided in this King Beyond the Walls recruitment.

Not that it would matter in the end, even if they did join together on mass. The armies of the dead were over a hundred thousand strong now and growing, on top of which it had undead giants, mammoths and direwolves. Resistance now was likely futile.

"Yes, now let's go, I will freeze the ocean, and we can walk across, avoiding the Wall entirely." Percy replied with a nod, before he began walking, Sylvanas striding alongside him, even as their horde of close to twelve hundred wights shambled along behind them. "The lands of the south will not know what hit them."

( - )

(In an unknown location)

There was a distinct scowl on Clotho's face as she awoke. It had taken her time, but she had tracked down the errant should of one Percy Jackson, and although it was now completely beyond her control, she could still see his fate, a fate that was still in flux, but had become much darker.

Clotho shook her head at that, her sisters might have washed their hands of this issue, deeming that they had done the right thing for the right reason, and that now Percy Jackson had been cast into chaos, the dimensional gap, that he was no longer their responsibility, but Clotho did not.

Percy Jackson was born of their world, she had spun his thread herself, and that mean that his fate was still her responsibility, even if she could no longer interfere directly.

Clotho paused at that thought, a sly smile spreading across her face as she did, before she got up. She might not be able to interfere personally, nor would a divine being last long in another, foreign realm, one which had its own gods, but a mortal would.

Clotho then nodded at that, her eyes glimmering slight as plans already began to take shape, Atropos might not give a damn, but Clotho did and she would now have to clean up her sister's mess.

( - )

AN: So what did you all think, I was kind of blown away by the response the first chapter got, so I thought I would get this out promptly, I hope it was worth it?

That being said I had an interesting thought when I was writing this chapter, about how it would be interesting if I crossed this story over with my other Percy Jackson/ Game of Thrones story, the Last King. After all it would be quite interesting, and amusing to write a Percy versus Percy story. One of them being a Percy who was trapped in Tartarus and sought his own escape, whilst the other one was a Percy who escaped Tartarus, but was cast out by the fates over what he could one day become.

It would have been interesting to draw a distinction between the two, and a fight would have been awesome. That being said the idea then evolved into their being a third arc, with a third Percy from a canon timeline, who became a Dothraki Khal and later hooks up with Daenerys before coming to Westeros. All of which would have made a three way battle between the three.

It was at that point though that I realised how ridiculous the idea was, and how long and complex it would be to write as it would require three initial stories exploring origins, development, interactions and rising to power. With all three setting the scene for a final story, this one following the three MCs as they fight it out. So yeah, although it was fun to think about, it was a pretty ridiculous idea.

But yeah anyway, I decided not to, and so have other plots and plans for this story, some of which I am still working out. So I hope you all keep reading and reviewing, and if you have anything you want to ask or discuss, feel free to PM me.

Thanks for reading and I'll see you later.

Greed720.