"We should head back," Dawin said to his cousin.

"Hush!" Qarl turned to him and angrily put his fingers to his own lips before turning his attention back to the tracks they found.

"We had the elk, Qarl. Please, let's go home," he pleaded once more.

They were hunting the animal just this morning and a good half of the afternoon, they followed it until they reached beyond the big hills of ice. But when they found the elk, it was already dead. He knew then that something was wrong, there are no visible weapons that killed the elk. No arrows, a dagger, or even markings left by a spear. There was not even a single stab wound that would give any indication that the animal was killed except for its broken, limp neck. Whatever killed the animal, it was precise and swift.

That was when he noticed the strange markings on the snow just a few feet away from the dead animal. Dawin wished now that he should have shut his mouth up. But no, he was stupid as a mammoth, he had to point it out to Qarl. His cousin was a ranger, as he always wanted to remind him. Rangers look for threats, his cousin said. But he's not a ranger, not at all. He's a boy of three and ten and he, Dawin was only ten. He wanted to impress the White Wolf, Dawin knew. Qarl wanted to be like him someday, he would often say. He wanted to be a crow, then a King and ride a dragon and then bed a queen. The last one appeals to Qarl more, Dawin knew. Qarl's mother saw the Dragon Queen South of the Wall, in Winterfell. She said she was the most beautiful thing she ever saw. Her skin and hair was as fair as snow, as well as her teeth, and her eyes were the color of the sky before the sun rises, a color of violet but dark, almost black in color, but beautiful. Dawin's father said the same, he told them the stories of how he survived the Long Night and the valor of their King and the beauty of his Queen, then his father died and Dawin was only left by the tales from his Aunt Lara. His father was a great man, the White Wolf said so himself as they burn his father's body on a pyre. But Dawin started to doubt it when the boys at the camp started to tease him; Your father was so great he survived the undead only to die after being strike down by a single arrow.

Dawin sighed and looked once more to his kneeling cousin ready to plead again. But Qarl stood up and started walking once more. He does that often, he would kneel and study the tracks then walked and follow it. That left Dawin nothing to do but follow Qarl, he doesn't want to be left alone after all. He dragged the makeshift sled behind him where the elk's body was tied securely and followed his cousin until they reach the edge of the cliff.

There the tracks ended as if it jumped or fell from the cliff. They both looked below.

"That's one hell of a jump," Qarl whistles.

His cousin speaks truth, that's over thirthy feet of a fall, but still, thirty feet does not matter if the snow is thick and freshly fallen, some men in the camp says they survive a higher fall by landing on snow, but the ground below is all rocks and the snow is harden. No one would have survived such a fall.

"Well, our prey is dead, best we go home now." Dawin said happily to his cousin and pulled on his sleeves.

"Did you see a body below, cousin?" Qarl said with that voice he would like to use to him very often, that voice that would make him feel stupid.

Dawin did not want to look down again to see. Qarl doesn't know it, but he felt uncomfortable looking down from high places. If his cousin knew, he knows that Qarl will tease him until his ears turned to ashes from embarrassment.

"T-The snow might have covered it, Qarl. Come on, let's go home." Dawin pulled once more at his cousin's sleeves but he didn't budge at all nor did he replied to him.

That's when he noticed that Qarl was still looking below with his mouth hanging open and his eyes glazed as if he just saw something beautiful. Curious as to what had caused his cousin to look that way, he steels himself to look down. And there he saw something moved.

He pulled harder on his cousin's sleeves and forces him to go down and lay on his stomach. He did, but his eyes never left that thing below. A smile slowly crept on Qarl's face and Dawin slowly looked down and saw clearly what his cousin was seeing.

Her hair was white, as white as the snow where she walked. Her skin was pale as milk, so pale it was almost blue in color. She was wearing a thin fabric that sways on her every move as if the cloth itself was made of the wind. The Dragon Queen, that's the first thought that came to his mind.

Then a sound came from behind him and a wind so cold and bitter it made his bones shiver hit them, but it was the scream that made all his hairs stood up. He looked back and saw the elk. The dead elk moving, struggling against the ropes that tied it to the sled. He slowly walked to the sled, steeling himself once more. I'm a ranger, a ranger is never afraid. He kept saying in his head over and over while pulling a small knife from his belt. Knife in hand, he walked once more, his prayer repeating over and over in his head. I'm a ranger. Then he remembered he is not a ranger, he is a boy and the one who wanted to be a ranger anyway was Qarl. All thoughts disappeared from his mind when he finally saw it. Blue was its eyes when he knew that elk's don't have blue eyes. He dropped his knife and fell backwards, landing on his buttocks. He felt his breeches getting warmer and he smelt the salty smell of urine. He piss himself.

"Qarl!" he begins to shout as he crawl backwards to his cousin.

He looked back and Qarl was still there laying where he left him. Dawin stood up and ran back to him and pulled him up, that was when he made the mistake to look below once more. The woman, the Dragon Queen that is not, was looking up at them. She's beautiful, he admits, but those eyes, even from afar there was no mistaking it, it was blue all of it, with no white. It's all blue. He pulled on Qarl once more, but his cousin pushed him away, seemingly irritated. Then he jumps.

Dawin screamed as he saw his cousin's body hit the hard snow and rocks below. He heard its crunch as his body hit the ground, it echoes in his head, that sound. He started to cry, hot streaming tears where on his face, freezing almost from the cold. Why was it so cold? Then he stopped when he saw the woman walked towards Qarl's wrecked body. Dawin watched as the woman lifted his cousin's head and kissed it. Qarl started to move. He's alive, the Dragon Queen saved him! Then Qarl stood up and the smile that was there on Dawin's face slowly changed to a look of horror. Qarl's legs are bent in a different angle, his left shoulder was dangling from its sockets. Then the woman, the blue woman lifted her head once more, so does Qarl. And it's blue. Qarl's eyes are green, dark green. Why is it blue now? It was a long way below, but there was no mistaking it, that glow on his cousin's eyes. Dawin shifted his attention to the woman. He can see it, the woman was smiling at him.

That started him running. Then he remembered the sled as he passed by it. He looked down at the struggling creature tied on it and decided to pull on it with all his strength. He ran and ran as hard and as fast as he can, crying all along for the loss of his friend and cousin. Qarl is not dead. Repeating over and over in his head followed by the sound of his cousin's body hitting the ground.

He did not know how many hours it was when he finally saw men walking towards him. He can't feel his hands from the cold, nor his feet, the one dragging the cart felt numb as well and limp. He wanted to sleep but the woman's smile and the way the woman woke his cousin kept him awake and running and running even when his lungs felt it was about to burst and his legs started to buckle. He run past the men, sobbing all the while.

"Qarl, Qarl, Qarl." He sobbed over and over. One of the men grabbed him, that made him scream. He struggled. Thinking of Qarl, thinking of what he became. No, he won't be one. He won't be one.

"I won't be one!" he started screaming, punching and scratching but the man holding him was strong.

The other man, the companion of the one holding him cursed.

"Gods be good...they're back."

"We must tell the King." The one holding him said and Dawin started to relax.

The King-Beyond-the-Wall, the White Wolf will know what to do. Then he fainted.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Jon kneeled and looked closely at the elk that the boy brought back. The men that found the boy decided to bring both him and the elk directly at Jon's tent as discreetly as possible, which he was grateful. He does not want to cause panic.

"Who else knows?" Tormund asks the men.

"Us and the boy."

Jon raised his head and looked at the scared faces of the two men in front of him. He remembered that these were the scouts he ordered to track the movements of the Thenns.

"The boy's cousin?" he struggled to remember the name of both the boys, but there are a lot of boys in the camp, he can't possibly remember them all. He only remembered that the boy laying on his cot always follows his cousin. They were thick as thieves, they would say to him.

The two scouts looked at each other before shaking their heads.

"T'boy was alone when we found him and he was turned mad, You' Grace."

He was about to correct the man. He was no king, no more, when Tormund interrupted his thoughts.

"What d'you mean mad?"

"He was struggling, Giantsbane. He punched me and scratched at me and he was screamin' a name." The man with dark hair and beard says.

The moment he saw the scratched face of the scout he thought that he had gotten in a fight with a Thenn. He thought that the wildling cannibals are nearer the camp as he feared, then they brought in the animal with them and the boy and Jon had wished for a Thenn then. Whatever the boy had seen it was enough to turn him feral. Enough to turn anyone feral. He looked at the sleeping form of the boy. He was so small.

"T'boy was screamin' 'Qarl'. And 'I won't be one' over and over." The other man said.

Jon closed his eyes and looked at the elk once more. The men was wise enough to tie the elk's snout, they said it was emitting a loud scream that could rouse the whole camp. Jon looked at its eyes. Yes, how can he forget these eyes?

He stood up and looked at the men in front of him.

"A word of this will not come out of this tent. We can't let them know. Not yet."

The two men looked at each other before nodding.

"What about the boy's Aunt?" Tormund whispered at him.

"No one will know until I say so."

Tormund nodded rather hesitantly. Jon turned to the men in front of him who was looking curiously at him and Tormund.

"Do you still have it?"

"What, Your Grace?" the black bearded man asked.

"Dragonglass."

Xxxxxxxxxx

Jon made sure all the elders of the remaining tribes were there on the tent. Mance's tent. Not for the first time it made Jon wonder what the former King-Beyond-the-Wall would think of him taking his place as King and using his tent as well. He shakes his head. It will not do to dwell in the thoughts of the dead.

Jon called for a meeting in a pretense of making borders to protect themselves against the Thenns, he did not want to take risks and let the whole camp knew about the the greater threat they were all facing. The less they know the safer they are. Jon knew what some of them will do, they would run, disband from camp, probably thinking that the less of them out there means safety, believing that the Others only attack the plenty. But they needed to stay together or they all die.

The boy was still at his tent, and as the elders slowly fill it, their eyes would stray at the boy, but none ask. There was one elder though who knitted his brow in recognition of the boy. The boy probably belongs to his tribe, but he did not ask as well. The boy was huddled in the corner, he was awake now but Jon was afraid of how his eyes are glazed over, as if the boy, Dawin, was sleeping with his eyes open. He also sustained a dislocated arm for dragging the sled alone and for how long an hour he ran with it. It was now tended with by the camp healer and the sled was now hidden behind Jon with his cloak covering it. The boy's Aunt was not yet informed about the faith of her son, she was probably worried now, but Jon must keep the secret for as long as he can even if the woman turned mad by worry.

"Men, do sit down. We had a lot to discuss, but first we must fill our bellies," Jon says while crossing his legs to the floor. The others do the same.

They were served roasted venison, but looking at it made Jon's stomach almost turn, remembering the thing tied behind him. But he still eats it nonetheless then drowned it with strong ale. Thinking all the while; Deer not elk.

As all of them was done eating dinner Jon decided that it would be the time to tell the truth.

"Men, I have lied to you," Jon admits as he put the bone of his venison down. He lied to save them he knew, but that doesn't make him feel any better.

"I assumed much, your Grace," an old man of the Hornfoot said while wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "You looked like a bloody maiden on her first night fidgetin' there."

It was Tormund who laughed first and loudly, the others followed. When they're done making fun of him, the man of the Ice River clan seriously looked at him.

"The Thenns are nearer than we feared aren't they?"

That caused the others' looks darken. The Thenns turned on them the moment they were out there in the true North, picking their hunters one by one, then almost ten years ago the Thenns attacked them in the night. They managed to get by, some died, even the boy's father and Jon killed the Magnar of Thenn himself, earning him the title he did not want to have nor he deserved.

Let's rule together...Her sweet voice pervades his consciousness once more.

Jon Snow, she moaned in his ears at the heat of their coupling.

He shaked his head. You're dead, Dany.

Dead. But he knows she's not. She's alive, ruling there on her new kingdom with their child, a daughter.

"Your Grace," someone distracts him, for that he was grateful.

"It is not about the Thenns, elders." He tried to say without breaking his voice.

He tried to master his emotions once more. He always gets emotional when he remembered the family he had on the other side of the world. The family he killed with a knife.

"Then what is it? Don't tell me you managed to choose which woman you'll marry? Was it my daughter?"

He shook his head. The farce of choosing a wife.

'Jon Snow,' she whispered in his ears once more dragging him to sweet memories of their first.

No. He faught with it, and faught with it hard. How can he marry, how can he look for another when every woman he meets pale in comparison to the Dragon Queen? What with her silver-blonde hair, her smooth flawless skin, her beautiful mouth, those eyes, her perfect sweet-smelling body and gods how well she uses it to please him.

Damn it, Dany.

"No," he said with a shake of his head. "I had graver news than choosing an unlucky woman who I know I'll disappoint greatly."

The elders started to contradict him. He did not know his words would cause such a commotion.

"Don't be like that!"

"Any woman would be lucky ta have you, your Grace!"

He was growing impatient by this. He locked eyes with Tormund who nodded to him in return.

"They are back, elders."

That caused the men to silence. They looked at him, confusion written all over their faces.

"The Others are back."

"No," the oldest one in the tent shook his head in denial. "No, they're dead. Some of you were there. You saw them crumbled down."

The elders murmured in agreement.

"I would like to say the same my Lords. But this morning two of our scouts that I sent northward came back not with the news of the Thenn camp, but with this boy," he pointed at Dawin who was still unmoved where he sat with those glassy eyes. "And this..."

Tormund manages to pull the sled and put it in the center of the circle where Jon and the elders were sitting. He pulled the cloak off and showed the men the undead the boy brought back.

The elders looked at the unmoving animal, then looked at Jon, as if waiting for him to tell them it's all a jape. Then one elder stood up and kneeled closer at the animal, right at its tied snout. He looked at the men beside him with a smirk when the elk opened its eyes and struggled with the ropes that bind it. The man fell down on his buttocks, the other elders crawled backwards, others stood up and unsheathed their swords, there are some who remained seated but with absolute horror visible on their faces as they look at the blue eyes of the elk.

"This can't be," the old man mutters on his seat. Petrified to even move or drew his sword.

Jon was about to say something when the boy talks.

"It took Qarl," the boy said barely a whisper. "It's a woman. The Dragon Queen."

Jon's heart faltered then restarts again to beat twice faster than normal.

"What?" he stammers. Jon stood up and all the elders were looking at him now.

The boy raised his head and looked at him.

"Qarl's mother, my Aunt Lara told us about the Dragon Queen so does Father. They both said she had white hair and white skin. The woman that took Qarl looks the same, but not the same."

Only their breathing and the whisper of the night winds are the only thing their ears can hear.

"What d'you mean boy," Tormund grew impatient by the boy's silence.

He wanted to growl at the child as well but he knew that will only scare him so all Jon did was just patiently wait for the boy to continue his story.

The boy looked up at them.

"T-The woman's skin is pale like ice. It looks blue. And the eyes are blue, all blue too. Q-Qarl jumped the cliff to be with her. The woman kissed Qarl then Qarl was alive, but not alive. Qarl's eyes are green not blue."

Jon felt he was transported back in time, back when he was a boy living in a castle with his half-siblings laying on the carpet with him as Old Nan told them the story of the Night's King and his wife. The Night's Queen. He remembered the same tale when he was once a man of the Night's Watch. The Nightford stood there to testify that there were truths on the tales he heard as a boy and now as a man he unearthed another evidence that there are more truth in the tales he knew.

"Gods be good." One of the elders said.

"We need to leave."

"We need to tell the camp!"

That snaps Jon from his thoughts.

"My Lords," he said quietly but none of them seems to have heard him. There are some who was preparing to leave.

"My Lords!" he shouted. Jon know they were no Lords but he also knew they liked being called as such despite their denials. That caught their attention pretty quick.

He remembered what his father...his uncle had told him about Kings. A King must posses a voice that the people will listen to. He used that voice now.

"I would like to ask for your forgiveness for hiding it from the whole camp. I had no other choice. There are some who will fled the moment they saw...this. We need to stay together to survive. The first one who will left the camp will be the first casualties. Some of you would think, running was wiser. And that is true, but if we want to run, we will run together. To South."