Azor Ahai
'Follow me, Jon. Follow me and I will show you.' A faint voice echoed through the crypts. It echoed louder. Jon followed the voice. 'Follow me, Jon, and I will show you who are. I will show you how to stop them.'
A light emanated from the end of the tunnel, fainter than the voice. Stone faces stared as he walked by; dead men armed with rusted steel. They judged his every step, questioning his place among them. The voice had read his thoughts. 'It's okay, Jon. You are a Stark now, your place is with them.' He recognised the voice this time. Father! Jon ran to the light but it fled from him, further and further with every stride he took. 'Just a little further, Jon. Here you'll find the truth of it all.' He tried to call out, but he couldn't. His body felt strange. As if he had forgotten how to move. His legs felt odd and uneven. But the light was so close. Oddly, He began to pant. The stone faces with rusted swords had long passed, guarding his flank.
It felt like he'd been running for hours when he reached the end. The light had gone and he was surrounded by darkness. 'Jon,' the voice called gently from behind. Jon wheeled to meet it. Stood in the shadows of the crypts, torch in hand was his little brother Bran. Jon tried to call but it was more of a bark.
'It's okay, Jon. This happened to me too. Jojen told me its in our blood.' Jon could not find it within him to speak. He tried…and tried…but nothing.
'You'll understand when you awaken, Lord Stark,' another voice reassured him. It was Robb, tussling his hand between Grey Wind's ears. Jon wanted to weep, and laugh and embrace his brothers.
'You can do it too, Jon. See them, like I can. They appear in my dreams too. Robb and Father. When I need them most. That's why they have come.'
'He's right, my boy.' Ned Stark lurked out of the shadows as well. 'We are all beside you now Jon. You'll need us…for the night is dark and full of terrors.' He didn't understand. Those were the words of the red women. Suddenly, Robb, and his father, burst into flames and fluttered to the cold ground as ash. Bran…changed, quickly growing wings, black as night, and an eye on his head even blacker.
'Follow! Follow!' Bran squawked at him, as he flew off towards the way out. Jon pursued, faster than he ever was. He was on four legs instead of two, yet he hadn't realised till then. Bran…or whatever it was flew out of the crypts into the heart of the Wolfswood. He sniffed around, with no trace of his brothers or sisters amongst the earthy smell of decay and soil. Bran had gone, however. Jon ran, for a time, trying to find Winterfell. How had he ended up in the Wolfswood?
He picked up the smell of fresh blood, and followed the scent. It lead him to a moor of bare trees, cut down, poorly. A garrison of about a hundred men were stationed beside the road. The road went back deep into the Wolfswood. Jon noticed a Raven, larger than most, perched in the tree, simply watching the men. It was Bran for sure. Jon scurried over, ever silent. Bran noticed Jon all the same, though. 'Watch! Watch!'
Jon looked…and the sight was horrifying. Men lay bloody and stripped of their skins. The smell was worse. The rotten meat of man flared through Jon's nostrils, a stronger stench than he was used to.
Ned Stark came up behind them once more. 'Don't you see, Jon, your country men need you. Roose Bolton has brought hard times upon The North.' Robb came too.
'They have suffered because they fought with me. You can still help them. They are what you need if you are ever to rule The North a Stark. Gather them all and end this Jon. Bring peace to the realm and let no more innocents die because of us.' Robb scratched Jon's head, the same as he did with Grey Wind, then walked away. Jon tried to call them back…but nothing. Don't go. Don't leave me alone in this world.
'You know nothing, Jon Snow,' a familiar voiced uttered. As he went to look upon the source, he woke, unwillingly.
Jon sat up from his bed, heart racing and his body drenched in his own sweat. A dream, nothing more. They're gone. They're all gone.
'They don't have to be. They can all come back to you, if you will it.' Startled, Jon's heart jumped. The Red Woman lit his hearth, exploding light into the darkness. Jon had to shield his eyes from the wicked blaze.
'What are you doing here, it's the middle of the night.' Jon got up and grabbed his breaches. The Red Woman eyed him as he climbed into them. The look she gave him was unnerving. He didn't trust her eyes. Fires danced behind them, oozing with mystery and deceit. Those eyes seemed to stare into his soul, and he thought he'd realised what his dream was.'Keep out of my head. I agreed to march with him, you have no need to manipulate me in my sleep.'
'I did no such thing, Lord Stark. It was the Lord of Light who showed you your path.' She slowly paced around his chamber, her eyes never leaving his. ' Perhaps Stannis was not the man I thought him to be. Perhaps he was simply the pathway to you, perhaps you're the one who triumphs in the great battle in the snow? The Lord of Light has foreseen a great destiny for you. They are with him now, your family, your lover...'
'What do you want priestess?' He was wary, and his patience short.
'The King would like to see you. He waits for you on deck.' She paced around some more, lighting candles as she did so. Then she looked to him, with those burning eyes. 'What do you know of your mother, please, do tell me? I can show you to her, if you'd like?'
Jon could hear no more. 'I want you to leave.' He stood, trying to usher her out. She is trying to play games with your mind, nothing more.
'You fear what you don't understand. Fear is for the weak, those who envelope themselves into the darkness. Are you weak Jon Snow? You'll never be a true Stark if you are,' the Red Woman said as she left.
Her departure gave the room an eerie sense, the fires she'd lit dimmed as if she were their fuel. He didn't trust anything about her, perhaps he even feared her. But the flames had left their marks in the ashes. The glowing red embers were alive amongst the soot, dancing into shapes…shapes of men fighting, deep in a forest. A tower stood tall between the trees, but Jon did not recognise it. The trees though he remembered from his dream. Many had been cut down, likely by the men fighting. Then they simply went out, disappearing in a puff of smoke.
Jon didn't know what it all meant. The dreams, the shapes in the fire; was it all just a coincidence or just one of the Red Woman's tricks? He needed some air, and to get her out of his head. He quickly dressed into his pitch black leather armour, strode into his coal leather boots, and topped it off with his crow feather cloak. Longclaw lay freshly oiled on the table. Jon lit a torch and let the blade bask in a rippling red glow. Magnificent. Lord Commander Mormont had made him swear to never lose it again; and he kept it close ever since. He sheathed the steel and strapped it to his waist. Armed with a torch against the cold, Jon left to grace his King.
They had set sail almost two days past, but Giantsbane had assured the free-folk were hauled up at Hardhome. Unwilling to part with his ships, and to avoid marching through the incoming blizzard, Stannis opted to join Jon on his endeavour to gather the rest of the Wildlings. His Grace stood boldly up upon the top deck of the ship, looking out at the void blackness of the sea. He made his way up to the steps, passing the two shivering men on guard duty. It was windier at the top. This night was a cruel one. Jon knew his courtesies, he dropped to a knee and uttered 'Your Grace.'
Even this far north, Stannis was the coldest thing there was. 'Do you understand how damaging this is to my cause, Lord Stark?' Stern and gravel toned, Stannis Baratheon, King of the Andals and The First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, had complained since setting sail. 'If your wildlings do not fulfil my needs, you have wasted my precious time, time I cannot claim back.'
Lord Stark, he called me. Jon hadn't adjusted to his new title yet. It didn't feel real. Not from the moment he knelt and swore fealty to Stannis back at Castle Black. He wished his father were here to tell him what to do, how to be a Lord. But he wasn't Lord of anything whilst Roose Bolton occupied Winterfell. And when he returned to Castle Black, with the rest of the Wildlings, he wouldn't be Lord Commander anymore either.
Alliser Thorne said nothing when Jon announced he was to leave the Watch to retake the north. Many of his brothers were outraged, others supported him, as always, but Ser Alliser didn't make a sound. He sat with a smirk as big as The Wall itself. It was him who'd likely become Lord Commander, a shivering thought.
'Your grace, the free folk are not mine. They only followed Mance and he is the only one they'll ever follow.' Cold ocean sprayed up into Jon's face. The winds blew hard and sharp against his skin. Stannis didn't even flinch at it, he was born harder than most men, Jon guessed.
'If the wildlings won't follow me, why are we here? I will not simply allow them into the Seven Kingdoms if they refuse to abide by the laws of the one true king.' Stannis at this point still hadn't laid his eyes on Jon since The Red Woman had summoned him. He just stood and stared intently to the sea ahead.
'I'm aware of that, Your Grace. The free folk are a stubborn people. Are we close?' Jon stared into the darkness that held the Kings attention. Except it didn't seem so dark anymore. Light pierced through the black ripples of the sea, shimmering almost. It was fire.
'We're close, if the Wildling can be trusted. But we are too late. Do you see that Lord Stark? I've been watching it for miles.' Stannis asked, still not letting up any signs of emotion.
'Yes. There are no settlements this far north, it has to be Hardhome.' Jon had an uneasy feeling stirring in his belly. The fire could have been anything, it was hard to tell from afar.
Ser Davos Seaworth, the King's hand, stood at the foot of the lower deck, accompanied by Tormand Giantsbane. 'Your grace, we should prepare for battle.'
'There isn't going to be a battle, Ser Davos. I shan't waste anymore time or men on Wildlings who refuse to follow. Have the fleet turned around. We sail for White Harbour instead.' Stannis turned to pace off. Tormand gave Jon a grave stare, as if he'd been the one to talk Stannis out of a rescue. Davos tried to appeal, but Stannis waved it away before the man took a breath to speak.
Tormand's gaze hadn't left Jon. The both of them knew that thousands were at risk...men, women and children alike. You must convince him to fight, you must. Jon attacked Stannis's pride. 'What King lets innocent people suffer when they could do something to help?' Stannis halted. 'Why should they follow you? Why should any man, woman or child follow you if you cannot do this for them? You were the King my father gave his life for. His honour cost him gravely in your name, yet you won't even risk yours. If we let the dead slaughter the living for a title, what chance does the living have. None, if we won't even fight for ourselves. Your war is no greater than theirs.'
Stannis stopped. Jon sensed a smirk emerge on the hard kings face, but it faded in a heartbeat. 'Didn't your father teach it's rude to question a King?' Stannis shook his head. 'Press the ships onward. And prepare for battle,' he ordered his men, begrudgingly. 'Lord Stark, you'll make an honourable Warden of The North. Best hope it won't be the death of you,' the King left with.