"Coming of the Ice King."
Chapter 2
"Mission objective."
Usually when Mycroft Holmes falls asleep he either dreams about events that have already happened, like childhood memories or particularly stressful days in the office, or goes through his resting hours reviewing government projects and Secret Service missions. Since his mind is so focused on the realistic part of life that it doesn't have time nor the creativity to waste on making dreams, that fact is really not surprising.
So you can imagine his sight confusion when, instead of seeing a replay of one of his most cherished memories, he was faced with a dark room filled with medieval-style dressed people looking at him as if he was some kind of prized dog shown off on a competition.
Rising an eyebrow he tried to remember if he saw those men and women before, like in a musical or an opera play, but surprisingly couldn't recall ever coming across any of them.
Suddenly the one looking not unlike a medieval style smithy, snorted.
"That round man in the wired armor is supposed to be the selected 'Chosen One'?" He asked sounding doubtful and disbelieving. "Don't make me laugh that guy looks as if he hasn't saw a real weapon in his entire life! Let alone led men to battle during war time!" The man sent Mycroft a nearly disgusted glare. "He wouldn't stand a chance in the world of Westeros. Everybody there would eat his soul for breakfast."
Ah. And with the help of that sentence alone, Mycroft understood.
These were the manifestations of his supposed insecurities, as the mention of his weight proved a moment ago, that he was supposed to face during tonight's slumber so they won't bother him anymore during the day time.
In other words, he was experiencing a nightmare.
That explanation seems logical to him as he could recall reading that some scientists discovered, after years of testing that the human mind often decides to make its owner face his fears during slumber, so their power over him will cease. A very useful ability, he remembered concluding back then, the human mind truly was Mother Nature's greatest achievement.
Or it would be logical if not for the fact that he didn't possess such an ability, he wasn't allowed to.
In his line of work Mycroft has to be in perfect control of his body and mind, had to rid himself of everything that made him human the moment he stepped into his office for the first time. Otherwise the things he was forced to do in order to protect his beloved country would drive him into insanity.
Somebody had to make the hard choices…somebody had to be the monster that everybody hated but was also the only one able to keep the world from crumbling into pieces…
What needed to be done, had to be done.
So he turned his body into a well-oiled machine. One that doesn't feel guilt…doesn't have regrets…doesn't have dreams and hopes…just thinks.
Behind the closed doors of his office the caring older brother of one detective Sherlock Holmes turns into a walking block of ice, the thing Moriarty dubbed the Ice Man.
Everything a human would normally do in response to a certain situation, from rising an eyebrow when curious to changing their voice to better fit the emotions they are experiencing at the specific moment, Mycroft had thousands of variations of those simple reactions. Each and every one of them were specifically created to be used against specific kinds of people to ensure their unquestioned obedience.
Nothing he ever did was done on impulse or in heat of the moment, instead his actions were carefully calculated to ensure that they get the results he wanted and nothing else.
That's why he was one of, if not the, most powerful men on Earth, because he wasn't allowed to feel fear and/or have any weaknesses that could be exposed and used against him.
Because he can't have them, he doesn't.
Even in the secured comfort of his own thoughts.
And that's how Mycroft Holmes figured out that his mind was being invaded.
Narrowing his icy-blue eyes to near slits the politician glared at the gathered humanoids before speaking:
"This is not a dream and you are not from my mind."
Crone watched the cogs in the man's brilliant mind begin to turn the moment her brother stopped grunting out his petty insult, and was slightly surprised he dismissed the possibility of them just being part of a dream so quickly.
"And what evidence do you have to support that statement?" She asked calmly.
The wise goddess knew he would figure it out sooner or later, his essence reeked so much of pure intelligence it would be more surprising if he didn't, but even so the speed in which he discovered their little secret was a little unnerving.
The human turned his calculating gaze to her, silently analyzing every single bit of information he could gather from her appearance alone.
"A dream is usually constructed of images the person experiencing them, at one point or another, saw during their life time." His eyes didn't leave that of the wise goddesses as he continued. "I never saw the likes of any of you, and I believe my mind is not creative enough to think of your designs and personalities, so it's impossible for you to be fragmentations of my imagination." His voice was relentless in proving his point. "Furthermore Mr. Smith, I believe, tried to insult me by preying on my weight problem, an insecurity which was promptly disposed of the minute it started being a problem." It wasn't a lie. Due to his job policy, that little crack in the armor had to go. Mycroft only allowed Sherlock to tease him about resent weight gains because otherwise their verbal interactions would simply cease to exist. "Had he been a part of my subconscious, he would have known taunting me in such a way would have no effect."
He fell silent knowing he needn't say more, he proved his point. Though what exactly he was going to do now that he proved that they are indeed not from his brain, is a question even he doesn't know the answer to right now.
Another problem demanding his attention considered the mere possibility of them even getting inside his head while he was asleep inside the impenetrable fortress he calls home.
There was a lot of people on the globe that would go to ridiculous lengths to get their hands on the confidential information stored in his head, from torture to so he wouldn't be surprised if one of such persons was desperate enough to use the 'Inception' way and try messing with his dreams.
Technology may be progressing at an alarming rate right now but he was quite sure that actually getting inside another person's head is not possible yet, which meant that he could possibly be dealing with something that's not entirely human in nature.
Not knowing their true intentions, as well as what they're after, created a serious gap in his deductions, which in turn prevented him from creating a way to turn this situation to his advantage and left the man behind the British Government practically at their mercy.
While the other deities stared in shock at the man's words, not having encountered a human with this level of intelligence before, Crone smiled clearly happy with his explanation.
Here stood a man who truly had the potential to save the world of Westeros, they have chosen their savior well.
"I assure you, child of Earth that our visit to your subconscious is one of peace." She stated calmly, watching the man for any reactions. "Our main objective in this meeting is to ask for your assistance in a problem that threatens the safety of our world."
The goddess of wisdom watched as the man's mind tried to determine if what she said was true, doubt clearly shining in the ice-blue orbs.
"We are the Gods of a land called Westeros," She continued after it became apparent that he wasn't going to say anything, "I am Crone, those around me are Father, Mother, Maiden, Smith, Warrior and Stranger." She motioned around to each member of her family as she spoke their name. "Our world is divided and at a civil war with itself, while a powerful enemy gathers beyond the protectiveness of the Ice Wall. An enemy to powerful for one clan to fight off alone, therefore you have been chosen to unite the fighting countries of Westeros and defeat the coming winter."
At first it looked like he wasn't going to offer any response but after a few second of silence…he spoke.
"Why would Gods need my help?" The question wasn't a surprising one, even the simplest of minds would be suspicious when someone presenting himself/herself as a divine entity capable of doing anything, came asking for assistance.
"Winter is coming." The cold words came out of Stranger's mouth, turning the man's attention to his cloaked figure. "One that has long been foretold and would have dire consequences if we tried to stop it." He gazed at the man from under his black hood and was pleasantly surprised when the human returned his gaze without backing away. "Who better to withstand the coldness of the fourth season, than a man made of ice?" The god of Death added to answer the 'why him' question.
Silence once again fell in the dark space of their meeting.
And it continued to be quiet…before the man spoke once more.
"Very well." Mycroft said nodding his proud ginger head. "I will do as you request."
"So quick you are to believe us, fleshling?" Father asked, quite bewildered. "How do you know this all is not a rouse?"
"Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth." Mycroft said without wasting a beat. It was a something he once told Sherlock when the insufferable brat was still a novice in the arts of deduction. He was glad to know that his baby brother still uses it during his cases, it gave him hope that maybe, somewhere deep down, Sherlock still cares for him.
Father nodded but, before he could say anything more, Mother spoke up.
"What about your loved ones?" She asked, her face the mask of worry and compassion. "Are you ready to leave them behind knowing you might not comeback? Will they not worry?"
Mycroft looked away. This wasn't a subject he wished to discuss.
He knew the one person he really cared about wouldn't give a damn if he were to live or die.
Sherlock didn't need him anymore.
He had John Watson, Gregory Lestrade, Molly Hopper and Ms. Hudson to keep him safe now.
And he made it clear on more than one occasion that he would like nothing better than for Mycroft to disappear from his life entirely.
The elder Holmes never could quite deny his baby brother anything…
So why not give him what he always wanted?
"Caring is not an advantage." Was the quiet reply, one that was barely louder than a whisper. There was simply nothing else to say, the sentence spoke for itself clearly enough.
Mother's eyes filled with tears but she said nothing, her motherly heart going out to the man before her.
"Very well." Father said, spreading his arms. "As the lord of the Seven Gods, I thank you for heeding our call for help in this dire time. The task before you will not be an easy one but fear not, you won't be in this alone. We have notified an ally of your coming and you are to meet him in the forest beyond the Ice Wall, he will help you with your quest of uniting the divided nations under your rule." He paused to give the man a grateful look before continuing. "We wish you the best of luck, Mycroft Holmes."
The shadow behind the British government only had the chance to nod before light enveloped him and he was no longer there.
A few hours later, inside a rather large flat in the middle of London, the city's only consulting detective watched the video sent by the British security team with a mixture of confusion and horror on his face, as his older brother vanished from his bed in a bright flash of light.
JA107: Ugh…this was a pain to write. I'm sorry if it feels rushed but I just wanted to get the transition done so I can get to the REAL story! ^^
Hope you guys still like it!