RHAEGAR TARGARYEN stood before the dead.
Behind him a river sang beautifully, oblivious to the carnage that surrounded it. Organs spilled into clear waters, closely chased by tumbling corpses that left ink-like trails of blood as they sank underneath shimmering pools.
Above, Baratheon arrowcrows buzzed.
The single-pilot craft darted between black clouds and burning airships, strafing across Rhaegar's doomed army with explosive shells.
Blood dripped from the corner of Rhaegar's mouth, while long, silver hair found itself painted by the gore of his enemies. He settled his eyes on the man before him- the one responsible for all of this.
Robert Baratheon.
"There's no more running for you." Baratheon spoke from behind a savage mask, smelted in the visage of a great stag. Red eyes glowed from underneath pointed antlers. Within traitorous hands a hammer was found- onyx in color, paired with a vermillion hilt that ended in a dagger-like pommel.
Rhaegar lifted his own weapon, a simple linkblas. The sword's edge was lined with rotating teeth that increased its cutting power, easily allowing one to rend even armored flesh.
"Nothing to say?" The Stag cocked its ghastly head.
Behind Robert's antlers, Lannister airships loosed cannon fire into the riverlands below. Hues of orange and red passed through the darkened sky, ending in violent plumes of ash that silenced horrified cries.
Rhaegar remained silent, charging for Robert with his weapon raised. Robert instantly moved for him, heavy boot stepping into the soft ground as the man hefted his hammer into the air.
Rhaegar feinted backward, nimbly edging for Robert's left as the man recovered his stance. As Rhaegar moved for Baratheon's neck, the rebeller released his weapon, allowing it to drop to the ground with a sickening squelch.
Rhaegar gasped in surprise as Robert sidestepped him, blade passing harmlessly across an armored torso.
Rhaegar said nothing as he was forced to the ground. The much larger man straddled his waist, holding Rhagear by the throat as he raised a free fist.
The Targaryen thought of Lyanna.
This had been for her. All of it. Not only her, but fo-
Rhaegar's thoughts were suddenly snuffed out. Gauntlets decorated with bits of bone and sinewy skin rose from a ruined skull, blood dripping to the orchestra of Lannister machines eviscerating foolishly loyal men.
THE WALL. Pörsa yawned, looking up at an icy behemoth that separated him from the unknown cruelties of the Expanse. Above, a cloudless night sky exposed Old Valyria in all of her beauty.
The doom that had claimed the planet-moon eons ago still bore witness to its genocidal deeds.
Pörsa tried to imagine what sort of horror could have created the scar that rent Valyria. A snaking puzzle work of crevasses cut across the planet's surface, while errant chunks of rock hung in its upper atmosphere, separated but still loyal to the planetary body that birthed it.
"Let's go, Pörsa. I know your lowborn ears heard me this time."
Pörsa gritted his teeth.
Kuval Reic.
Once you took the black you lost all claims to your past life. For those such as Pörsa, this was a blessing. He was no longer a murderer.
He briefly paused, reflecting on the street urchins that he had brutalized and maimed while still a free man.
But for people like Kuval it was different. Highborn types often adapted poorly, or worse- were given differential treatment. The Watch had no time nor need for weakness- but it did need money provided by worried Lords looking to ensure safety for banished sons.
Pörsa looked back at the wall one last time, before urging his horse forward, regrouping with Kuval's party as their steeds stomped into soft hills of snow.
Brown eyes regarded the approaching woods with unease.
More missing Rangers.
The Watch was used to death, used to recruits attempting to flee. It was not uncommon for new faces to be gone the next day, never to be seen again.
More often than not, they were killed by the Expanse. A cold land, cursed by magic that technology had long replaced. It spread forth towards living lands, encapsulating it with an icy kiss.
But the bodies they found months ago were different. They were completely naked and scarred.
Each body had their genitals and eyes crudely torn out, replaced with sphere-like objects that burned to the touch. Ritualistic markings covered each body from hastily shaved head to skinned feet, devoid of soles.
After this, the Lord Commander demanded that a search be sent out whenever more than parties of three went missing.
Pörsa shivered, wishing that the thermcloak he wore offered more than an ember of weeping warmth.
"Nice of you to finally join us." Kuval turned in his saddle, smile buffeted by a gust of wind. Icy snow flew across Kuval's boyish sneer.
Six of them stood before the wood. Trunks thicker than Airship engines stood resolute, ageless guardians of a bygone era.
Kuval shifted his attention forward. Roughly kicking an agitated steed, the young man lead them into the wood.
They were silent, all of them remembering the bodies discovered within these very same parts. Their silence was graciously accepted by the whispering forest.
Only the wind susserrated, leaving cool kisses that licked across exposed skin.
Horses nickered with phlegmatic snorts, amplified by outdated therma harnesses attached to their snouts.
Kuval raised his hand, leaning forward in his saddle. The others stopped, horses stomping hooves into plumes of snow to keep warm.
"There's something ahead." Kuval pointed in the distance. Pörsa narrowed his eyes.
The snow fall lessened. Pörsa followed Kuval's arm until he saw clearly a clump of flesh, half buried.
"Let's dismount." Kuval spoke boredly, the boy's naivety somehow increasing Pörsa's fear.
Something was wrong. It wasn't only that they came across a body so quickly.. it was also because the snowfall had ceased.
Kuval grunted as he jumped from his saddle. He pulled a Schlages free from the horse's saddlebag. The outdated rifle thrummed to life, superheated ammo cells instantly cooling errant particles of snow.
Technology, even a Schlages- was scarce on the wall. Machinery was rarely used outside beyond the wall. Even in the mainland people still depended on horse and cart and sword- most could not afford the luxuries enjoyed by the High Houses and other technocrats.
This truth was doubly so for the Watch. Whatever arms they received were to be stored and saved for when they would truly be needed. However, Kuval's weapon had been gifted to him by his father and as such, not dependent on the opinions of the Lord Commander.
"This don't feel right." Pörsa, reluctant to dismount, watched Kuval look down the sights of his rifle.
"It's a body.." the boy said, ignoring Pörsa.
The man continued.
"It doesn't make sense. We aren't far from the wall. Something placed that body there."
Kuval looked up at Pörsa, annoyance written on his face in reverberating waves.
Kuval's mouth opened as black chain broke through the roof of his head. Pörsa's eyes immediately darted upwards, following the long, linked cable that slinked between a wall of leaves.
The rest of the men shouted in surprise, drawing weapons as Kuval's body was pulled upwards in unnatural seconds.
Silence took the wood.
Kuval's rifle broke from the leaves above, landing beside Pörsa as flurries of snow returned to the wind.
Movement flickered at the corner of Pörsa's eye. It dashed behind trees-a raggedly torn cloak obscuring a body that moved with inhuman grace.
Pörsa decided he had seen enough.
He turned his horse, whipping reigns as it pounded at the ground.
His brothers screamed at him as he fled. Pörsa felt a tinge of sadness then-until the voices he heard went silent. He dared not look back, staring ahead.
We weren't far from the Wall. I'll tell them what happened. They'll understand. They'll be happy I survived.
The criminal gasped as wire wrapped around his waist, yanking him free from an errant horse that continued on ahead. He scrambled to his knees, only to tumble as the wire tightened, cutting into his flesh as it tore through his meagre armor.
Pörsa screamed then, agitation and fear mixing within his mind. The man shook from side to side, attempting in vain to free himself.
"...Another." A voice called from beyond. The voice was soft, almost caring. It seemed to echo from the wind.
Pörsa's screams balked into panting gasps of fear. There was a sound then that broke the air, footsteps through the snow, light and inhuman.
He was pulled backwards, and then flipped over.
Pörsa's eyes widened as horror took him.
Icy blue eyes stared back at the man, veiled by ebony hair that unnaturally waved across naked shoulders as if it were underwater. A body, feminine but without breasts or genitals, stood over him.
It had no mouth, and it was then that Porsa saw that the figure's neck had been slit. Between cut skin, rows of sharp teeth hid a long and wavering tongue.
Pörsa then saw another cloaked creature jump onto a low hanging branch beside him.
A bloodied chain, ending in a cruel hook, waved idly below the jumper as it watched.
Pörsa couldn't speak. His mind begged to know what was happening, begged to know what this was.
"I am.. a quiet thing..Kind...Something familiar to you."
The speaker cocked its head as it looked at him. The cut that it wore on its throat bled, shadowy blood falling onto jutting collarbones.
Pörsa felt a flash of pain.
Then nothing.