A Kiss of Ice and Fire
Game of Thrones and A Song of Ice and Fire is owned by GRRM foremost. The plot idea is owned by my brain. You want it? The many faced god must have a name.
Seriously tho, don't do dat shit.
Chapter 3
Bran looked up at the withered man. He wore black clothes. Bran briefly thought they may have belonged to the Night's Watch, a long time ago. The man's face was lined deeply. On his cheek there was a darker shape, a slight impression of a bird in flight.
"Hello," the old man said, his mouth a grim smile.
Bran's surprise at such an ordinary greet must have been playing across his face. As if automatically an urge to introduce himself properly hit.
"I am Brandon Stark, of Winterfell." the old man seemed bemused by the greeting.
"I know," he replied. "I am Brynden Rivers. I was born in King's Landing, to a Blackwood of Raventree Hill."
Bran's surprise only grew, recognizing the name.
"Blood Raven," Bran remarked. "One of Aegon the Unworthy's bas-" Bran paused, not wishing to upset his host. This seemed to amuse the old man even more.
"Yes, a bastard, called Blood Raven. They never let you forget, so I stopped trying." At that the young Stark thought of Jon. Wondered what it might have been like at the wall for him. "And you," the old man began again, looking up at Bran's companion. "Must be Hodor."
"Hodor," the big man replied, nodding as if he understood. The old man nodded in return. One of the children of the forest walked over and took the rotund man's arm, guiding him deeper in the cave.
"And Meera Reed," the old man noted, nodding at Meera. "And Summer." The direwolf merely walked over and sat next to Bran as if bored. "I've known you were coming for a long time, my young friends. I am sorry that you lost much on the journey."
Bran looked up at Meera. Her face was still drawn in mourning for her brother. But he'd been burned, she would never have to look at his face being twisted to savagery by a white walker.
"It was essential that you do come," Brynden declared. "Where Jojen Reed walks now, I will follow soon. Before that happens, I must pass on what I can to you, young Brandon." Brynden was staring down at Bran again. "Have you warged, Brandon?" Bran nodded. "A weirwood tree?" Bran nodded again, not understanding.
"We have a little time, then," Brynden noted. "Leaf." At the summons a child of the forest walked closer, bearing a woven basket. Inside was some bread, fruit. "Eat, both of you," it was a command, though there was gentleness to it. "You will need your strength."
"What about Summer?" Bran asked.
"He is a direwolf," the raven noted. "His blood has some of the North in it. He will know where to find food. When I return, we will begin. Eat, sleep if you can."
"Where are you going?" Brandon asked. The old man smiled sadly at him and looked down at the roots growing through him.
"Nowhere, Brandon. Yet everywhere." Then his eyes went white and the Blood Raven was not in the room, though Brynden Rivers was.
Ygritte was awakened by a brush of a few fingers on her cheek. She stirred and looked up to see the dark curls and Jon's face looking down on her. She raised her hands, still in manacles, and brushed off his own hand.
Jon looked disappointed as he kept his hand to himself. He was still sitting at her side, on the cot she'd been given.
"What are you doing here so early," Ygritte asked drowsily, rolling over.
"I was out there for a long time," Jon confessed softly. "I forgot how to sleep when it's warm." Jon paused a moment. "I forgot how to sleep without you."
"You'll get used to it," Ygritte replied.
"Aye," Jon agreed, wearily. "I don't want to, though."
Ygritte frowned a moment then went to a grin. She didn't want him to see. Even though she wanted to hold him again.
"Did you sleep well?" Jon's question was laced with actual concern.
"I've slept with worse," Ygritte replied.
"I know you have," Jon countered. Ygritte didn't speak back. Jon sighed and looked down. "I'm sorry." Ygritte narrowed her eyes, confused, though Jon didn't see it. The bastard rose from the cot and moved to leave.
"Why are you sorry," Ygritte asked, not turning in her cot.
"I couldn't help Mance," Jon noted, pausing. "I keep doing it over in my head, wondering if I could've found a better choice."
"You helped him," Ygritte replied softly.
"Then why do I feel like shit." Jon left her cell after saying this.
"Brooding little boy," Ygritte whispered to herself, finally letting her own misery show.
"Sam," Jon greeted. The rotund brother turned as he left the library, followed by Gilly. Sam gave Jon a smile in return. "Visiting in the library again, you should be made a maester."
"It was only to keep the princess company," Sam replied defensively. "She was teaching Gilly how to read."
"I know S," Gilly replied. "I guess that's a good letter." Jon paused, stunned quiet.
"I guess," Jon replied. "Sword, snow, sweet, sun all start with S."
"Sam starts with S." Jon smiled back at the wildling.
"Aye." Jon looked at Samwell seriously. "Make sure you're at the election for Lord Commander, Sam."
"I will," Sam declared, still defensive. Jon glanced at Gilly.
"You shouldn't bring Gilly though. She's a good person, but the others won't be keen on a girl, wildling or not, at the election." Sam gave a grudging nod of agreement.
"Jon Snow," Jon looked behind Sam to see see Selyse Baratheon walking from the library. "My husband the King wishes to speak with you again."
The Lord Commander's solar had been given over to Stannis. Davos stood in the corner, almost at guard. Jon was left waiting, standing before Jeor Morment's desk, holding a man that Jon no longer thought well of.
"You showed mercy to Mance Rayder," Stannis commented. "Not very smart. You show too much mercy, people no longer fear you." The king held Jon's gaze. "If people don't fear you, they won't follow."
"The wildlings didn't fear Mance Rayder, they followed him," Jon noted correctly.
"Then who can lead the wildlings," Stannis asked, cocking his head. "You?"
"I doubt it," Jon confessed. "One of their own perhaps. Mance spent 20 years uniting the clans of wildlings, they respect a strong leader of their kind, not from south of the Wall."
"I don't have 20 years," Stannis noted ruefully.
"The Night's Watch is electing a new Lord Commander, tonight," Davos reminded Jon. "Allister Thorne is going to win." Jon winced. It was probably true. "What do you think life will be like with him in command?"
"Unpleasant," Jon quipped.
Stannis almost seemed amused to Jon. "My wife doesn't like you," he declared. "She thinks you're the product of a liason between Ned Stark and a tavern girl." Jon wanted to argue, felt the muscles in his jaw clench, wanting to grind his teeth. "I didn't know Ned Stark personally, but if I know the man's reputation he wasn't the sort of man to bed a tavern girl, especially not with a betrothed highborn lady waiting for him."
"It doesn't matter," Jon noted. Stannis didn't seem to hear him, or was ignoring him.
"Do you know of Lyanna Mormont?" Jon recognized the last name.
"Of the Lord Commander's house?" Jon asked. Stannis lifted a raven's message.
"Her mother and her older sisters fought in your brother's war, died in it," Stannis noted. "I sent a raven, asking for men, she sent this, written in her hand. She's lady of Bear Island now, a girl all of ten years." Stannis offered the thin paper to Jon. Snow leaned over and took it in his hand, stretching the other end with his opposite to read it.
The writing looked about what Jon expected from a girl of ten.
The North knows no king, but the King in the North, and his name is Stark.
Jon was amused, but still puzzled.
"I expect I'll be receiving a few more like that when the damn ravens return," Stannis declared. "Your brother was too good for his own sake. The only man that Tywin Lannister could not defeat in the field. He did his damage though. The North won't submit to anyone not named Stark."
"You won't find any of them in the Wildlings," Jon replied, lowering the note.
"I might have one right here," Stannis replied back. Jon looked up now. Had Jon misheard.
"The North is just like your wildlings, they won't follow someone who isn't their own. Kneel, swear me your service and sword. You'll rise as Jon Stark." Jon was frozen in silence as Stannis spoke. "Your bit of mercy with Mance Rayder was brave, but stupid. Thorne will punish you for it. I'd rather reward bravery."
"Jon Snow swore a vow to guard the realms of men. Jon Stark didn't."
Ygritte had been taken from her cell, a strong hand on either arm by southern soldiers, dragged across half of castle black, when she was finally put through a door. What lay on the other side irritated Ygritte more than being handled to the door.
The red woman, Melisandre, was lighting candles, her back to Ygritte.
"Come in," Melisandre offered. "You and I have things to discuss."
"I've got nothin' to 'discuss' with you," Ygritte replied. Melisandre stood straight and turned to look at Ygritte.
"By all means, tell the King's soldiers that," Melisandre offered, gesturing to the door.
Ygritte winced as she realized she was bound in nothing but a cloak and a dress. She sighed and stepped closer. Meliandre turned and finished lighting her candles.
"Stannis has made an offer to Jon Snow. Jon will become a Stark and fight for the Red God's chosen King, Stannis Baratheon. I look into the flames, and I see Jon Snow fighting before Winterfell, with wildlings at his back."
"The free folk, follow Jon?" Ygritte scoffed.
"Prove me wrong," Melisandre countered quickly. "Look into the flames." With a nod, she gestured to the candles, then looked back to Ygritte. Ygritte looked between the candles and the red woman again.
"Is this some kind of trick?" Melisandre merely shook her head, her expression one of stone as she stared back at the redheaded archer. Ygritte sighed and looked at the little candles. She stared a moment. "I just see little flames."
"Look deeper," Melisandre countered.
Ygritte breathed again, feeling foolish, and stared at the tiny candle flame.
"Your mind will wander, let it," Melisandre ordered. "The Lord of Light will shape the flame to show you what you must see." The red woman inched closer to Ygritte. The wild girl ignored her, uncaring, green eyes fixed on the tiny flickering.
Ygritte's mouth fell open.
"A castle," Ygritte declared, her mouth falling open. "With huge flat towers of dark stone. I see a boy running at Jon."
"Who is behind Jon?" Melisandre asked.
"Tormund," Ygritte answered. "And..." Ygritte backed away, looking away from the candles. Melisandre's frown had returned.
"Are you a fuckin' witch?" Ygritte hissed, stunned and feeling cornered.
"No," Melisandre replied. She changed subjects. "How can Jon Snow not accept Stannis's offer and fight at Winterfell? I saw you there, as I see you now." Ygritte was quickly becoming more and more threatened.
Ygritte lunged at the red woman. Her hands were still in shackles but she could still throttle the life from the witch. Melisandre's eyes were wide. She tried to step backwards, she couldn't escape however. Ygritte's hands were at her throat before she could call out.
The flame atop the candles sprang into foot-long tongues of fire as Melisandre silently prayed for salvation. Ygritte's chain was hooked under her amulet. The jewelry made of valyrian steel suddenly fell away from her throat. Melisandre felt the glamour fall away.
Ygritte screamed and jumped away. Melisandre looked over at her mirror and saw why. She was pale, pale as death. Her red hair was gone, only wisps of white remained. Her bones screamed in agony. She rolled over and found her amulet as the door was opening to the chamber. Her choker was on before the soldiers saw her. The candles went back to tiny licks of flame.
Melisandre could only breathe as her youth was restored to her. She looked over and saw Ygritte being grabbed by the soldiers, her eyes showing too much white as she stared back at Melisandre.
"Stop," Melisandre commanded. The soldiers paused in dragging Ygritte away. "Leave us. A mere accident." The pair let go of the younger woman and left the room. Melisandre looked down at the floor and raised a hand to massage her neck gently.
"What are you?" Ygritte demanded, horrified.
Melisandre winced, closing her eyes. She debated lying or telling the truth.
"Old," Melisandre replied vaguely. "Very old." Melisandre rose to her feet, a hand still at her neck. "I asked you what you saw when you died. I am close to dying myself." She raised her opposite hand to gesture with one finger at her amulet. "This keeps me young, keeps me alive." Melisandre lowered her hand to help Ygritte to her feet. The younger woman looked at the hand, seeing it's unblemished skin.
"We don't all embrace death, Ygritte," Melisandre confessed. "Some us, many of us, fear it. Death is the enemy. The first enemy and the last. The enemy always wins, in the end. We still have to fight him. That is why I am here, and why you are here, I think."
Ygritte took Melisandre's hand nervously and was pulled to her feet.
"How do you fight death?" Ygritte asked, still perturbed but more calm.
"Living," Melisandre replied simply. Melisandre released Ygritte's hand and stepped away, turning to attend her candles. "I don't know how much longer I have left. Without my power, I may have days, or less. I spent lifetimes searching for my purpose. Now I think I may have found it."
Melisandre turned back to look at Ygritte.
"Stannis may be the prince that my god promised, or perhaps Jon Snow is," Melisandre commented. "But I will stand with them, until the Dawn."
"What do you want with me, then?" Ygritte asked.
Melisandre's reply to the girl was simple.
"Jon Snow must accept Stannis's offer."
Dolorous Edd and Samwell both sat across from Jon Snow in the mess hall. The pair had heared Jon speak of Stannis's offer. Both were lost in thought. The three spoke softly, despite the hall being filled with every brother that served at Castle Black.
"It's a good offer," Edd noted, begrudgingly.
"It's better," Jon declared. "It's everything I wanted. I thought, maybe, maybe, my father would speak to the King. I could be Jon Stark, a knight of winterfell. Ride beside Robb in battle. Be a proper brother to Bran and Rickon and Sansa and Arya. Marry a girl, have Stark children of my own. They'd ride beside Robb's children."
"You should take it, then," Samwell declared. "The Night's Watch needs good men, I won't deny it. But the North needs good men ruling it, too. And family is important."
"Are you just saying that because you miss your family?" Edd asked Samwell, a grimace on his face.
"A little," Sam confessed. "But, I have Gilly and Smallsam now. Not the family I had, but it's a kind of family."
"Sam," Edd warned sternly. "Did you break your vows?"
"No," Sam said defensively. "We didn't do anything I swear."
Jon looked between the pair of brothers, puzzled. When had this become a chat about Gilly? The pair looked back at him and gestured for him to continue then. Jon just rolled his eyes.
"I'm going to refuse," Jon declared.
Edd and Sam's eyes widened.
"The wildlings need someone on their side," Jon said, explaining.
The three were shocked from their conversation by Maester Aemon entering the filled hall. The ancient Targaryen sat and two brothers unloaded a collection of baskets bearing metal tokens.
"Today," Aemon declared loudly, though such an ancient voice still trembled. "We will vote for a new Lord Commander. There are two candidates. Ser Allister Thorne, of Castle Black. And Ser Denys Mallister, commander of the Shadow Tower."
"Maester," Samwell called. "May I speak?"
"Samwell Tarly," Aemon declared. "You are recognized."
Sam stood, drawing glances from Jon and Edd.
"I'd like to suggest a third person for Lord Commander. I nominate Jon Snow." There were a few cheers and the pounding of tankards on the tables. Jon just stared up at his fat brother, worried.
"Very well, Samwell," Aemon noted. "Three candidates. The men named may speak and prove their right to the office of Lord Commander, or choose a man to speak for them. Ranger Thorne, you may speak first."
Instead of the white-haired ranger, Janos Slynt rose. The bald man needed no encouragement.
"Ranger Thorne commanded our defense here at Castle Black," Slynt commented. "He is a ranger, a leader of men. He drove the wildlings back because of Thorne." Jon ignored most of what Janos was saying. It was a boring speech anyway.
"What are you doing?" Jon whispered to Sam, incredulous.
"I wasn't going to let Thorne become Lord Commander," Sam declared.
"Jon Snow," Aemon called. "You may speak."
Without pausing Sam rose again.
"I will speak for brother Snow, Maester," Sam called loudly. "I found Janos Slynt during the attack on Castle Black. He was standing in a puddle of his own making." Sam was actually japing. Jon wanted to cover his face. "Gilly, a baby, and Janos Slynt, hiding in a store room." There was some laughter. "And honestly brothers," Samwell looked around the hall. "Gilly cried a lot less."
"Thorne is a strong ranger, no one here can deny it. But Jon Snow led us after Thorne was wounded. Jeor Mormont, the previous Lord Commander, saw something in Jon Snow. I believe we saw it clearer the night we withstood the wildlings. Both Thorne and Jon are good fighters. But Mormont saw greatness in Jon Snow."
Samwell sat at this, his words said. Applause rang out as men beat wooden mugs on wooden tables. Thorne rose now.
"You speak well, Tarly. You've said proud words. I heard 'em. Jon Snow is a good boy, but he's still barely a boy. He spent a long time beyond the wall, and hardened for it, aye. But he spent that time among wildlings. By his own words he admits he broke his vows. And now we've a wildling girl in our cells that may mean more to Snow than our brotherhood."
"He may be a great Lord Commander someday, I believe it. But I believe those days are far from now." There were nods and grunts of 'aye.' They were begrudging, but Jon heard them. "In the meantime, more Wildlings will come, to go south past our Wall to burn and pillage the kingdoms we came from. Think of those you left behind when you came north. Think of them when you vote."
The vote was quick. Jon's eyes were downcast as Aemon's assistant tallied the tokens on the pegs. There was a whisper into Aemon's ear.
"Ser Denys Mallister," Aemon declared. "is the 998th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. Tarly, if you would send a raven to the Shadow Tower, and inform Lord Commander Mallister of his position."
"Aye, Maester," Sam replied, down trodden.
Jon stood and turned to leave, when he saw Stannis Baratheon and Davos Seaworth standing in the corner. Jon rolled his jaw and stepped over to speak to them.
"Samwell Tarly speaks well," Stannis noted. "But your relations with the wild girl have cost you, Jon Snow." Jon merely nodded, resigned.
"I can't take your offer," Jon said simply, looking up to meet Stannis's eyes. "If the wildlings remain North of the wall, the dead will only grow stronger."
"How will you get them south, you barely have a new Lord Commander. It'll take days for Mallister to arrive from the Shadow Tower."
Ygritte was awakened by a loud banging outside her door. Like someone had just been knocked cold. She bolted upright from the cot. Her hounds were still in shackles, if whatever was outside the door was coming in, she'd have no way to defend herself other than pure animal savagery.
The bolt slid back. Ygritte stood from the cot and went back against the wall, her face a mask of grim resolve.
The door opened. A figure in black stepped in, a gleaming blade that shone silver in the weak blue light of reflected snow and ice. A mask was over the figure's face.
Jon Snow tugged down the mask. Ygritte let out a sigh of relief as a breath she hadn't been aware of holding.
"We have to go," Jon declared, sheathing his sword.