Hey guys, so here is the next chapter of The Lone Wolf. Hope you all enjoy it, and be ready for more. I'm going to try and release two chapters within the next week as I have a lot of time on my hands now. So I have a good bit of motivation now and the response to last chapter has only fueled it. I appreciate every single one of you!

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or Halo as they belong to their respective owners.

Noble Six

Barrow lands

He set another log into the fire he'd just made, his eyes peering into the darkened woods. Catching small movements of animals and leaves blowing in the wind. He set himself down next to the horses as he cooked the rabbit he'd caught, the sizzling of his kill and the occasional crack of the fire being the only sound around him. Leaving it to cook for a few more minutes he pulled out the map given to him by Lord Stark. He was able to navigate much better with it, finding streams of water and hills for observation. He hadn't run into many travelers this far north of Winterfell, many looking wearily into the woods. Telling him to stay away from the cursed barrow lands.

He'd read that the barrow kings were the only kings of old the Starks bowed too. Before they overthrew them and the kings of Winter ruled for thousands of years. He needed to track down which castle Ulfik had stayed in, though they're weren't that many to look through. It would still take some time to thoroughly search each one. For a task with so much riding on it, he couldn't afford to be anything less. He took a bite of the rabbit and turned away from the fire, looking towards Winterfell. The castle gone from sight as he'd been traveling for two days, but he found comfort when he thought of the northern capitol. It was the longest he'd ever stayed in one place to his memory. Being a lone wolf he was always moving, always hunting, and always killing.

Now though.. he spent his days teaching and showing new ways for the people of the north to survive. Watching them take his ways and excel had given him a sense of pride. The men were now much better disciplined and had been improving with every task he'd set in front of them. Children could now learn from their fathers and have a chance at a better life. When he had heard how grateful Mathos was at his opportunity to read and write. That made some of his suffering worth it, because it showed that even someone like him could change things for the better.

Back in his universe it seemed that no matter what he did, it wouldn't change the outcome of the war. He knew it. His leaders knew it. But most importantly.. his fellow Spartans knew it. The war and the remnants of humanity was lost, they were only prolonging the inevitable. Every man, woman, and child would die at the hands of the covenant. There wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop that. But here? Here he could make a difference, here he could stop them. He will stop them. He had seen too many worlds burn and much too many innocent people die.

He thought of Lord Stark, the man who took him in and gained his trust. He was honorable and loved his people fiercely, his family too.

Robb had been a bit arrogant when around the Greyjoy boy, but Six knew he would become a great leader when presented the chance. Just like his father. Never one to bask in victory when he knocked someone to the ground in the training yard. Always giving a helping hand up.

Jon, always the quietest one in the room. Never speaking unless spoken to, and even then he was very soft spoken. Only recently had he began to open up to Six, and he had treasured the growing friendship between himself and the Spartan. He never knew his mother, Six didn't either. Didn't know if his mother was alive or dead, Six didn't either. They shared that type of pain and companionship. Six treated Jon fairly and without the scorn of being a bastard like he had been his whole life.

Sansa, the oldest daughter of the Starks. She dreamt of knights in shining armor, men who were honorable and good. Being taken away by a southern prince and being a lady of a large castle, not knowing just how naive she was. She followed her mother's every step in everything she did, how she dressed, ate, walked, and unfortunately, she even followed how she treated Jon. Never going out of her way to be cruel, but always referring to him as her half-brother. Not knowing how much it broke the young man's heart. She was still young, and she would learn.

Arya, the little spitfire of Winterfell. She hated dresses, sewing, and pretty much anything to do with being a proper lady. The polar opposite of her sister and mother, though she still loved them. He had caught her more quite a few times watching him, as if trying to study him. Especially when he was training the guards or her brothers, he had even seen her one night with a bow and arrow. Hitting the bullseye more than once, when he complimented her, she froze. Thinking she would be in trouble she went to run away, but he stopped her. Saying she should keep practicing, that there wasn't anything wrong with her desire to learn archery. Little did they both know that her father had been watching the whole time, he agreed with Six and told her to keep working. A nod of gratitude from Ned and a smile that could shine the darkest of rooms from her.

Bran, he had dreams of being a knight and a soldier. He'd once told him of his greatest desire to be a squire for Ser Barristan Selmy of the king's guard. He'd listened to him for hours about his favorite stories and knights of old. Young and determined. The young Stark would grow up to be a good and strong knight if he had his way. If Six could help him in any way to get there, he would without hesitation.

Rickon, the youngest of the Starks. Small and innocent was he, never saying much to anyone. He was very shy and usually stayed glued to his mother's hip everywhere he went. One particular moment he had with him, was when he slipped on a stair and scratched his knee. The young lad had a terrible time with it. Eyes red and puffy from the sting of pain. Six had gently lifted the young man up and sat him on a barrel before taking a look at the injury. Using a small bit of ointment, he'd made for the guards to use for wounds, he applied it to the red scratched skin. Rickon only wincing but never crying as he watched the giant of a man tend to his wounds. He wrapped it up with some fresh gauze he'd always kept on him. When it was all done, he looked into the child's eyes and gave a small smile, as if to say 'See? That wasn't so bad.' Rickon looked in awe, but never in fear as Six left him to his mother. She thanked him and took Rickon back to his room.

All the Starks had left a different impression on him, and each one giving him more reasons to fight for them. Not just them, but the people of Winterfell.

He tossed the stick away as he finished the last bite, clasping his hands together and standing to his feet. He had come here for a hunt and by whatever god or gods there were. He was going to hunt. Reaching to the rear of the carriage he'd used he pulled out his war hammer and attached it to his back plate.

He checked his shields and started making his way to the closest castle. Footsteps being the only thing of interest he could hear. In the dead of night he was at his most lethal and best.

The old run down castle could only leave the person looking at it in wonder, what did it look like at its golden age? Impressive as it may be, the towers were now crumbling down and the gate hanging down at an angle.

The battlements of the structure were in disarray, stones toppling over and some sections being inoperable. Torn pieces of cloth now mindlessly waved through the wind, who ever owned this castle before. Six knew they had been dead for thousands of years. The wonders of being in a place like this were not lost to him, yet... he felt an otherworldly presence here as well.

One he'd felt before.

Nevertheless, he pushed onward; he had a job to do. Scanning the courtyard, it was filled with wagons, carriages, and overturned moss-covered tables.

His mind already moving a thousand miles per second as he took everything in. He went to one of the wooden carriages and turned it over, a sigil of a white tree on a black field, 'Here is some of the missing shipments for Lord Stark, though how did they get up here?'. He found no bodies around, but the stench of blood was in the air. Something was off. He kept searching the other wagons and found more of the same, lumber and some barrels of ale. Bags of gold and stags for taxes which he would mark for retrieval once the mission was over.

A few bags of oats and food, he gave a frustrated sigh as he closed the last barrel.

He decided to investigate further into the castle, slowly, he opened the main door and it creaked horribly loud. Cursing his luck inwardly, he came upon what appeared to be the remains of the great hall, various chairs and makeshift beds of furs laid about the room. So it would seem someone had taken up residence here, bringing his head down at that realization. He was hoping to catch the elite by himself and without further human casualties. But, he couldn't dwell on that right now. He need to move.

He walked further and caught a rat feasting on something, cautiously he crept closer to investigate.

It was an arm, it looked to have been freshly severed. He shooed the rodent away and got to his knees to inspect further. From what he could tell, it was female, no large amounts of hair a normal Northman would have. Nails cut and cleaned, but when he looked at the, it looked to have been perfectly cut. The wound was blackened as if it had been cauterized immediately upon contact.

His eyes drifted to movement on his right; hand edging towards the pistol grip of his rifle. He saw a small stream of blood coming from the next room. Rising from his position he tightened his grip on the DMR.

He took a few cautious steps forward and neared the corner. Peeking around and was met with what could only be called a small hill of corpses, all having been cut in half or dismembered in different ways. He saw men, women and even a few small children. Heads, arms, legs, it didn't matter to whatever did this. In his gut he knew exactly what he was up against.

He gave a small sigh of sadness for the poor souls that died there. Their deaths not being quick as he saw the terrified expressions set in stone on them. That's when it started. That pressure building up in his stomach, pushing more and more adrenaline into his body. His eyes narrowing to almost slits. His arms going tight as he gripped the rifle and could hear the metal start to protest. He looked to the right of the bodies and found a set of large footprints, bloody footprints. Then a set of even larger and in-human like behind them.

He followed suite as fast and careful as he could, they lead him away from the bodies and down a small narrow hallway. No light except from his helmet as he peered into the darkness. No rooms on either side but a door at the very end being hastily ripped open, he crossed down a set of stairs that led deeper into the castle. The footsteps getting fresher as he kept going.

"Gaaagh-"

He turned a corner and there it was, the elite. Grand Zealot class. Holding a bloodied and beaten man grasping the appendage holding his throat. His eyes wide with terror as the beast snarled at him. Causing more strangled screams to come from him. Then the room lit up as he activated his energy sword, ready to disembowel him. Just as fabric of the man's shirt began to cut open, Six opened fire.

In quick succession he fired his entire magazine into the Zealot as its shields flared, he dropped the man as it turned to face the disturbance. As he heard the empty chamber click, the elite focused its eyes in the darkness. As he did it began to widen in anger, one half of his mandibles were blown off. Fierce plasma scoring on its armor and shoulder pads, that was when it clicked with Six.

This was the one that stabbed him, the one that almost killed him. The one that he gave his own life to take out. They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity before they marched towards each other, rage in every step as the stones beneath them cracked.

"DEMON!" It cried in anger, hand trembling as he charged forward. Sword at his side ready to kill.

No words were spoken from Six, no words were needed. All the primal anger, despair, pure unadulterated rage.. consumed him.

He roared back, this was it. The final battle between two warriors, the last of both their kind. The last Spartan and the last Elite.

Six rolled out of the way as the zealot went to cut him in half, firing more rounds into the beast its shields still held strong, he turned to the man still on the ground. "Get the hell out of here, head for Winterfell! There's a carriage with horses outside, GO!" Six yelled and the man scrambled to his feet, the elite went for the chase but was grabbed from behind. Yelling curses in its tongue, it slammed its elbow into the Spartans back.

Being brought to his knees from the strength he was then tossed back by a vicious backhand that sent him sprawling. Metal scrapped against the floor as His DMR slid away from him, he looked to see the elite lunging to bring a downward strike to end him. He rolled once more out of the way, zealot swinging wildly in rage at him. He felt the handle of his rifle and used it as a baton to smack it in the face. Rearing back from the pain, he snapped up and reached for his magazine only to find it empty. 'SHIT!'. He blocked an overhead attack as the energy sword cut his rifle in half, bits of the metal dripping down as it melted. His only ballistic weapon now gone, he pulled his new war hammer out and struck the beast in the chest.

Purple blood spewed from its mouth covering his visor, he went to wipe it away and felt the zealot grab his helmet and rip it off his head. Head snapping backward as he felt the armored knee hit him in the face. Dropping back into a wall he used it to keep him steady, blood seeping into his vision. He wiped the blood away as he looked around, the elite having used the moment of reprieve to activate his invisibility cloak. The darkness giving nothing away as it had deactivated its energy shield as well, but he could hear the hurried footsteps going up the stairs.

Heaving himself up he gave chase, war hammer in hand he leapt up the stairs and crossed through the hallway. Using his free hand he pulled his combat knife free and hurled it forward.

"RAAAGH!"

He could see the blood spewing out from it now, the beast phasing in and out. He rushed forward and grabbed it by its legs, causing the zealot to fall into a cluster of wood. Sending splinters everywhere, heaving his hammer high he slammed it down towards its head. Only for it to move at the last second, shards of stone shooting into the air. The zealot used its legs to kick the Spartan back, he slid to a halt before engaging again.

Parrying a blow, he used the staff part of his weapon to wrench the energy sword out of its hands. Following it up with a vicious swirling strike to its back. As his hammer impacted the zealot, he could feel its armor groan in protest and give way to his strength.

The two-trading blow after blow as the castle shook from their destruction. Walls being busted open, doors ripped apart. Punch after punch, swing after swing, the two demons giving their all.

He caught the zealot in the face with his war hammer as he saw pieces of the mandible rip off. But the elite responded with a slice across his face, gritting in pain as he held his face. It cut straight from above his eyebrow all the way down to his jawline. Barely missing his eye. The two warriors breathing heavy from their fight, six was bleeding badly from his forehead. Constantly wiping the blood away and his lip was busted as well. Irritating the new cut on his face, he glared daggers at the zealot.

Trudging forward he spun his hammer around and caught it in the knee, but received a stab from the zealots wrist blades into his left side. Grunting in pain from the action the two slumped back onto the ground. Six could hear the sangheili warrior hack and gasp as he recovered from their exchange.

Six would not let him get a second wind, this would end even if he died doing it. Slinging his arm over his body to bring some momentum, he used his legs to bring him up into a somewhat leaning position. Once he had gained his balance back, he reached into one of the pockets in the neck. A small three-inch red liquid cylinder was in his palm. Without a second thought, he brought it to where his heart was covered on his chest. A panel opened and six inserted the canister into it. Instantly the liquid disappeared, and the effects were..intense.

Six felt his pain go away and an unquenching anger followed, a need to express violence. A need to destroy. Gritting his teeth until it was too much, he unleashed a roar that could not be compared. Deep... angry... powerful. That was how it felt as he directed this... feeling to the zealot now attempting to deactivate his energy sword. Using this newfound strength, he sprinted to the elite. As they crashed into each other, the zealot managed to singe a part of his shield generator on his back.

Picking the elite off the ground with and ran him through the nearest wall, but suddenly he felt weightless for a few seconds. Until they violently crashed into one of the overturned wagons, blood shot from his mouth as he felt the full force of his injuries now. The effects of his adrenaline now waning.

Laying still for a few moments he caught his breath; he could see the zealot struggling to move. Its body broken on impact, Six... with what little strength he had left sat up. Grimacing from injuries he'd sustained, he dropped his hammer. He stared almost drunkenly around as his head spun.

Reaching for his fallen brothers prized Kukri, he pulled it from his sheathe. The blade glistening in the morning sun, he stared down at his enemy. The enemy of all mankind.

Groaning, his anger, his pain, all coming to a forefront in his mind. He could do this; he could end the covenant threat before it even has a chance of coming here. This would be his way... of making it count.

His thoughts drifted to his team, all killed before his very eyes. Having to endure that for the rest of his life. Now, he could make sure they would rest in peace. No more covenant, no more worlds turned to glass, no more endless suffering. He raised the blade high in the air, never taking his eyes off the beaten zealot. Gathering his final bit of strength, he held it with two hands.

"This... is for Reach." He rasped out and plunged the blade deep into its neck. Blood soaking his front as the elite tried to gasp for air, only to choke on its own blood. He gave a final twist of the knife and he felt it die. Its arms dropped to its sides.

Finally, it was over. He wrenched it free from the neck and he rolled off the zealot. He splayed onto his back next to his kill as he stared into the sun. He felt so tired, never before had he felt this tired. Just mentally and physically drained. As he breathed, he could feel that searing pain in his side, looking towards it he could see small bits of blood pooling out. He slowly reached down into his IFAK and pulled his canister of bio foam. As carefully as he could, he applied it to his side. The foam causing the wound to sizzle before covering it completely. Crawling away he propped himself up on one of the overturned barrels. Once he was comfortable enough, he just sat there, and let the cold wind hit him.

He didn't know how long he had sat there for as he drifted in and out. One moment it was midday, the next it was night. Had he truly fought for almost an entire day? Hell, he didn't know. All he knew was that the people were now safe. The North was safe, and now the Starks were safe. That's all he cared about, he didn't care about living or dying in this fight. So long as he took the son of a bitch with him. Perhaps... he could rest a little longer.

.

.

.

.

"There he is!"

"By the gods what beast is that?!"

"Grab his legs, gently now he's badly wounded in the side."

"He's wounded everywhere!"

"Fuckin' hells he's made of steel. We need more men to help carry him."

"Lord Stark! We've found him, he's a right bloody mess. We need to get him to a maester now!"

All these voices coming in and around him, he couldn't focus on anything as he only saw blurs in his vision. He felt them strain to lift him and could only barely move his legs. Trying to gather his bearings he made to stand on his own only to come crashing down, bringing the men with him.

He needed to get his armor off, to help them. He reached for the latch on his side and pulled it. Feeling the weight slacken, he did the same with the other one. His chest piece falling ungraciously off. He could breathe better now. He felt them pick him up again, this time with much less difficulty.

"Spartan?" He heard a voice to his back, turning his head as he looked through half closed lids.

"Yes, lord Stark?" Came his very quiet reply.

Ned looked around at his men as they surveyed the destruction around them. The zealot was being cautiously poked at with lances and swords. He then turned back to face the man responsible for killing perhaps the most dangerous enemy he'd yet encountered. Lifting himself into the back of the carriage. He could feel it start to move, at a very rapid pace towards Winterfell.

"I can't begin to thank you enough for this, truly. My children are safe now, and now so are my people."

Six shrugged his shoulder briefly before wincing, "This was... personal. To me..They killed my people." His words come out as a whisper.

Ned only continued looking at him before nodding and dropping it. Many of the men looking at the beast with more anger now than fear.

"They shouldn't fret, its dead I promise." Six told them, they exchanged looks between the two before slightly lowering their guard around it.

Six could feel the eyes of Ned on him, it wouldn't be long until he would be out again. The amount of bio foam he applied to himself would have him out another day, so he would answer what few questions he was able. Yet none came, so he just let himself drift off into the dark.

A/N: Hey guys! So this one took a little longer to revise and I hope you all like what's in store. Hope you all enjoy your day and stay safe!

Deuces!