A Wolf with a coat of Darkness – chapter 16
I do not own ASoIF/GoT or Warcaft/WoW
Rated M for everything wrong with the Cult of the Damned and the Scourge (including but not limited to cannibalism, human experimentation, murder, rape, slavery, torture, sadism)
With a heavy sign did Sansa finally accepted that her sister would not come. After days of waiting, the ever-growing truth revealed itself fully. She stood on the terrace in her house, the ready sword laying across the table in wait, yet the future owner failed to show up, day after day.
As she waited, in an effort to convince herself of her sister's coming, she wondered over lord Tyrion's proposal. Of exploring the native sources of magic all around Westeros. And despite trying to distract herself with this topic, it nevertheless brough her back to Arya again. Such things, the wonder of the world, the myths and legends of Westeros. They were straight up her field of knowledge.
She though back to what Tyrion said.
Dragonstone
The wall
The isle of Faces
There were other, but she could not remember them right now.
Thinking of the options, she though it would be awkward and uncomfortable to wonder around another lord's castle and as such, she quickly removed Dragonstone. Wondering over the next thing, she decided that Wall is not a real option. If she was to go there, she would capture the undead herself. Or remain in Winterfel and never return south again.
Not that she hated it south, and in many ways things were becoming just as she always dreamed them to be. Her father was the second-most powerful man in the realm, a king in all but name. Everyone's eyes were on her, nobles and peasants alike looking at her with awe and respect, servants bowing low any time she passed by them. But with every spell she cast, she was always reminded just how she gained her powers. And every time she remembered, a cold shudder passed through her and she instantly wanted to do nothing but to head North immediately, crawl under the soft furs in her room and listen to the cracking fire as she looked out through the window at the falling snow. At times, she wondered if she was not creating a version of Winterfel that did not exist but was rather an idealized version that lived only in dreams.
"The isle of Faces." she mumbled, settling in on the only plausible answer. She tried to wrack her brain for any knowledge of the place, but other than the actual location, she came up short.
As her eyes again wondered over to the sword on the table meant for her sister, she closed them for a moment before taking a deep breath and swiftly getting up beginning the march towards the Red Keep with a purpose in her stride.
"I want to take Arya with me to the isle of Faces." Said Sansa as she sat down opposite her father.
In turn, he blinked owlishly, his mount slightly agape in shock and confusion.
"W-w? Arya? The isle of Faces? What are you talking about?" he shook his head "No, both of you will remain here. It is too dangerous." He finally said as his senses began to return to him.
"You can't force us to stay, father!" responded Sansa.
"I am your lord father. I can."
"I must go!" Sansa said hotly
"Why?" Eddard asked in exasperation "What is so important that you must go?"
"I spoke with lord Tyrion."
"The Imp"
"Yes, father, the Imp. We spoke about magic and where there could be some in Westeros. He brough up several places, one of which was that isle."
"And just like that, on a whim and the word of a Lannister, you go running." Glared Eddard. "I said no."
"It is not on a whim, father! We went down to the dragon bones. There is still magic in them! If there is magic there, who knows where else could there be!"
"Exactly! Who knows?"
"We have to start somewhere. I am going! I survived months with a death cult. I think I can survive an island in the Riverlands"
Resigning despite himself, Ned closed his eyes and sighed deeply. Finally looking up, he asked:
"Why Arya?"
Sansa was silent for a while before answering.
"She hates me. Always has."
"You sister does not h-"
"She does. Always has. Now more than ever." And blue eyes met grey ones with a glare. "Especially after what you did."
"What I did?!"
"Yes, you turned her…into…into…a lady! A pretty doll!"
"After you disappeared without a trace, I had to ensure the safety of my family. I will not explain my reasons to you." He frowned at her "And Arya is a lady."
In turn, Sansa violently shook her head.
"I spent months dreaming of returning home, of all of you. Of her. My wild little sister, full of life and wonder, running in the mud with a smile on her face." Sansa said, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. "That thing is not my sister. I intent to bring her back."
"She cannot remain a child any longer. She cannot be protected forever."
"I can and will protect her." Hard sapphire stared down Eddard, displaying a surprising amount of wolf in her. Silence fell upon the room. After an eternity, Eddard spoke:
"If you go, you will take half my household guards with you."
"That won't be neces-"
"Half. Or your sister does not go."
Sansa fought a losing battle to suppress her smile when her sister appeared from around the corner before the red-head's house. The two witches as she had heard several people refer to them in whispers were waiting astride upon their horses for some time, their great knight standing in silence but a pace behind them.
As she looked upon her sister's escort, she found herself wondering if that truly was half the Stark household guard and if it truly was, what was her father thinking bringing so few to the capitol, especially if he believed it to be so dangerous. Nevertheless, the eight or so men actually looked relieved, some even carrying smiles. Quickly sweeping over the faces, Sansa found a handful of familiar ones looking back at her, yet she quickly focused on her sister.
While she was still in a dress, it was a plain one with no adornments, a large brown cloak around her shoulder, hood down. And yet, despite the glare that she leveled at Sansa, the red-head smiled back at her, idly noting how she rode her horse as a man as opposed a lady, breaches poking from where the dress had pooled up.
She wanted to say something, felt she had to say something, but as her sister got closer and closer, every time she tried to do so, she failed miserably. In the end, her shoulder slumped in barely-visible defeat as she turned her horse around and made to exit the city, the rest of the newly-formed party behind her.
The cramped, noisy city streets left little room for conversation, especially with the horses taking up most of the space, forcing them to travel single file at times. Upon finally breaking out of the city, several audible sighs of relief rang out.
The trip for most of the day was in relative silence, with Sansa at the front, leading, despite not really knowing the way. The red-head wanted to move faster, but the King's road was quite busy and they were not a small party. And all that led to a leisurely pace despite all save the tireless undead knight been on horseback.
In some ways, It reminded Sansa of the first days back in Westeros, of when she and Myranda headed for King's Landing. Pleasant weather, clean air when outside of the city, and much, much less noise. And maybe the best part was to be away from all her adoring admirers, devotees and followers. All those nobles that hovered around the two girls, asking for tricks, for demonstrations.
And then, there were the requests. The subtle and the not-so-subtle ones.
'Pardon me, lady Sansa, can this magic be learned?' variation of that question rang out more than once. And after the first three lies, Sansa realized that she needed to come up with a definitive answer that matched every time she gave it.
The red-head briefly noted how Myranda tried to start up a conversation with Arya behind her, her sister giving only short answers, though by the second day, she could detect the subtle change in her sister's voice, her responses becoming longer and less cold. She even asked a question, once.
Sansa took a deep breath and swallowed hard, hoping to put down the conflicting emotions, to put them out of sight and mind. Her sister was beginning to open up, but not to her. A small voice within her mind was berating her that ofcourse she would not open up to her given that the two barely exchanged any words.
Despite wanting to get close to her sister, the more they approached the isle, the more her thoughts drifted to why they were going there in the first place. A simple chain that led all the way back to undead being in Westeros. Sansa constantly though how, why, from where. They were from beyond the wall and the wall was raised to stop the Others. Were the Others undead? Or were they necromancers?
But why now? They were defeated thousands of years ago. Why now, what has changed? To that question, unfortunately, Sansa came up with one single answer to.
'Me'
She has. She was now a mage. A sorceress. A witch. A necromancer. What if she was responsible for all this? What if she had brought them over when she did the teleport spell? Her mind kept wandering to the ghoul that lay dead in the forest to the south. What if there were more?
Such heavy thoughts almost kept her from sleep as the party settled in for the night at an inn in one of the coastal villages on the God's Eyes as the third day of their journey settled.
In the eerie silence of the late morning, the only noise came from the oars of the boat as they broke the perfectly-still waters of the lake. Slowly, a shape began to emerge from the mists up ahead. Dark green was the first thing that they saw as the fabled isle began to present itself.
Sansa's thoughts began to wage war with themselves. She was feeling something. Not quite magic, but something else. Maybe she wanted to feel magic and was only imagining it, her rational mind telling her that if there was something on this island in the middle of all Westeros, it would have been long discovered.
"I don't know what you hope to achieve, my lady" broke the silence Alyn, one of the guards "Noone has been able to reach the island for thousands of years. The innkeeper laughed at us last night."
"Aye." Spoke up Harwin "Said something about wind always blowing them away or crows coming to peck people's eyes out." He said while eyeing the skies warily.
"We will reach it." Sansa responded, not turning to face the people that have questioned her. "There is no wind and if crows do come…"
She was sure she could defeat crows or at the very least protect herself.
'But I am not alone.' She reminder herself, casting her eyes to Arya. As she wondered and tried to reassure herself she would be able to protect her sister, the isle appeared out from the mist.
It was big, but still smaller than what she expected. If one was to look at a map, something which she had grown fond of during her time with the cult, one would thing the isle was the size of King's Landing, if not bigger. What lay before was maybe bigger than Winterfel, though her memory of home grew dimmer by the day.
Dark pine produced a natural wall around the island, almost reaching the water, leaving but a sliver of beach. Occasionally, above them and in between one could see red leaves and white trunks.
'Weirwood' her heart skipped a beat. She was not one for religion and the few times she had prayed, it was always to the Seven. Rarely did she enter the ancient godswood at Winterfel and she cannot remember the last time she kneeled before one of those trees. But this small reminder of home brought a smile to her face.
So engrossed in thoughts of home she was that Sansa failed to notice when the boat ran aground, the sudden jolt returning her to the present as she looked around at her party. What met her were nervous eyes as everyone looked around warily.
Steadying herself, Sansa pressed on to the center of the island, forcing her own blue eyes not to focus on the many faces of the surrounding weirwoods. In the darkness of the forest, the white trunks and red leaves stood out even more, an unnatural silence gripping the entire island. Even their very footsteps seemed muffled, so much so that the red-head crushed leaves and sticks on purpose, yet barely any sound escaped.
Nor she, nor Myranda needed to cast any spells for revealing magic. Even their mundane companions had but to breath to know just how charged this place was, the very energy it held.
And what an energy it was.
It was old and stale, yet young and vigorous. Comforting, yet hostile. Docile, yet raging. Meek, yet mighty. It was almost as if the island was in a conflict with itself as to whether or not to let them through. One step was hard, as if against a current. The next – easy and gentle, as if with the wind.
The first thing to indicate any form of life, current or past were small boulders with screaming faces carved into them, half overgrown with moss and a few almost fully swallowed by the nearby trees.
These boulders seemed to form a road, leading further into the island winding between the trees. Passing beneath a stone arch that was little more than a stone slab propped up on two large stones, they entered a circle of monoliths.
Large dark stones surrounded them each unique in the patterns that adorned it, be it spirals, circles or the occasional animal. Faded blue paint peaked from the carvings and at times, it almost seemed to glow though Sansa convinced herself it was a trick of the light. Their heeled boots clicked as they walked in the clearing, the ground paved in large slabs forming what was probably the best structure on the whole island.
Both sorceresses noticed several runes adoring the surrounding stones and so lost within their thoughts about the meaning of these runes that neither of them noticed the carvings in question had begun to glow. It was only the shout from Arya that actually brough them to reality, but it was too late.
Blinding light filled the vision of everyone, all present becoming paralyzed, unable to move. Even when they shut their eyes, the light remained, rendering them blind to everything. What little sound there was completely disappearing.
In the sudden stillness of all senses, a flurry of ethereal voices began. They all spoke as one, yet at the same time each said a different thing. They were discussing among themselves, yet addressing the two sorceresses at the same time.
"Wrong"
"Too early"
"Need more"
"Wrong"
"Must return"
"Not yet"
"Prepare"
"Need more"
"Too early"
Forcing all here magic, Sansa managed to whisper out a few words.
"Please, we need help -UGH- undead are coming"
The terrible assault paused but for a moment before starting a new, the voices now seemingly angry.
"We did"
"We send you"
"Too early"
"Need to learn"
"More"
"Must return"
"Too early"
"Wrong"
As suddenly as it had started, the blinding light and the paralysis ended, the party finding themselves on the beach of the isle. While Sansa and Myranda were quick to regain their bearing and Arya managing to stand up a few moments later, exhaustion and fear in her grey eyes, the rest of their party remained on the ground, seemingly asleep.
"What…just happened?" cautiously asked Myranda, looking wildly around, her body moving into a ready stance.
"I…I don-.." Sansa began but her voice trailed off, the red-head uncertain and lost.
"Old gods" answered Arya, her own voice quivering in disbelief.
Tyrion felt a mix of emotions as he waddled towards the chambers his father had been granted upon his arrival into King's Landing.
The mighty Tywin. The great lord of the Westerlands had barely been a day in the capital and had already held a meeting with the king, the hand, his lovely sister, Jaime, the captain of the Lannister guards and seemingly, now him.
"Atleast I know where I stand on the pecking order." Mumbled Tyrion to himself.
While the dwarf had no idea what was spoken, he did have his suspicions. The only things of interest to have happened in the past year were the death of Jon Arryn, the appointment of Eddard Stark as the new hand and the return of the prodigal daughter of the Stark family, as a sorceress no less.
While his father might not be particularly happy about number two, Tyrion felt he did not particularly care about that or the one before, let alone care enough to ride to King's Landing. Infact, the dwarf was almost certain that the reason was what he thought it was. After all, if rumors were to be believed, the capital will soon have visitors from far and wide, all for the sole purpose of meeting the Stark girl.
The door with two Lannister guards stood before him, one of them opening it and ushering him inside without even asking him whom he was, nor announcing him in any form.
Somehow, that gave Tyrion pause. His beloved father was always working, always bend over some piece of paper issuing orders and managing every detail. He hated been interrupted. Even when meeting people, the old lion would finish his work first before giving them any attention even if the person was in the very room with him.
And as if to confirm his worst suspicions, he saw his father standing behind his desk, doing nothing.
No parchment to read, no scroll to write, no letter to seal. He simply stood there, his hard eyes fixed upon Tyrion, following his every move.
"Tyrion."
"Father"
Seating himself opposite his father, he waited for the old lion to speak yet nothing happened. On the inside, Tyrion was both angry and gleeful.
'You wished to speak to me, yet not you remain quiet? Is it that hard to admit you want, that you need something from someone else?'
"You wished to speak with me?"
While Tywin's expression did not change, he sprung to life, getting up from his seat.
"I did." He began, as he filled two cups of wine and set one down infront of Tyrion.
"The Stark girl. What can you tell me of her? Her and her…companion?"
'Ah, there it is, in the open.'
"A little too young, the both of them, even for you." Quipped Tyrion, grasping the goblet and taking a drink.
"Everyone tells me you have been spending a lot of time with them. Even your sister has taken note." Return Tywin, ignoring Tyrion's poor attempt at a joke.
"Hmm, I supposed you are interested in their magic? It is real, I can tell you this much. Or real enough. I saw plenty of breastplates destroyed in all sorts of creative manners."
"I heard plenty of that already and I expect to see for myself soon enough. No, tell me of them."
Taking another sip, Tyrion thought for a moment.
"They are frightened." 'As am I, after what I saw at the Wall.' "While they have shared some of the truth of what had happened to them, they still leave a lot out. For the Stark girl, I know she is keen on returning home to the North, but I suppose she is content enough with her father around."
"What of their interactions outside of the Stark household? Who do they speak with?"
"Noone, really. Not for a lack of trying on everyone else's part. I saw lady Sansa turn down enough courtships, apprenticeships or sponsorships for this to be true." Tyrion took another sip before continuing. "Honestly, I suspect that she will even refuse her father if he was to arrange a betrothal for her. Not like he can force her."
Tyrion met his father's eyes:
"What are you really after?"
The old lion collapsed in his chair before letting out an audible sigh, prompting Tyrion to raise an eyebrow. His father never sighed.
"If what everyone says is true, then those two girls just upset the balance of power in the whole of Westeros. Actual mages. And the Starks have them all." Stated Tywin
"Ah, there it is." Smugly drawled out Tyrion "Well, sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I don't think even a match with the prince will keep the Stark girl bound here. Our best bet would be to get in her good graces and maybe she will teach some of us."
A silence descended upon father and son. Tywin was looking straight at Tyrion but anyone could see his thoughts were not in the room. Finaly, the old lion asked:
"And what of the other girl?"
"You want to return." Asked Myranda, though it was more of a statement.
"No, I do not." Returned Sansa. The two of them have been staying in silence in their house for some time, having returned from their small expedition but a few hours ago. "But I fear I might have to."
"Just because some voices said so? We have barely been away for two months from them!" questioned Myranda.
"They are the ones that send me there in the first place. Maybe they send me there to prepare for what comes from beyond the wall." Tried to reason Sansa.
"You don't know that."
"They themselves said it is so."
"And you believe that? If I said I was a dragon, that does not magically make me one."
"it's not the same!" hotly retorted Sansa.
"It is equally stupid." Responded Myranda.
"But it makes sense!" shouted Sansa.
"How?" asked Myranda in low anger.
"What if they knew about what comes from beyond the wall? You see this kingdom! There is no magic! We are the highest form of it and we are barely apprentices." Sansa flailed her arms around as she tried to explain her reasoning. "Tell me, honestly, do you believe they can withstand an undead invasion? Do you believe they can withstand the Scourge?"
Myranda remained quiet, though her answer was clear to both. After a while, she said in a low voice:
"We don't know what is coming. Maybe we can take it on, just the two of us."
Sansa smiled despite her grim thoughts.
"We shall know soon enough. Hopefully, the brother from the watch returns soon." Said the red-head.
"Indeed. It feels like half of the kingdom is here to see us. Hopefully they remain until his return."
A furious pounding on the front door startled the two girls. Both girls leaned over the railing of their terrace so they can see the front door from the inside and willed the Knight to open it.
A frantic woman with red hair stood on the door, her hand raised as if she was preparing to pound again.
"Where is she? Out of my way, ser!" she tried to push past the knight, but he remained unmoving.
An almost-forgotten voice sent shivers down Sansa's spine, the girl remaining in her place with wide eyes as if stunned. Myranda seeing no threat from the simple woman willed the knight to move aside. The woman strode into the small courtyard with a purpose before her eyes fixed onto Sansa and she almost tripped as she came to a sudden halt.
"Sansa…" whispered out the woman before breaking into a run up the stairs towards them.
Myranda prepared for a fight, but a whisper from Sansa stopped her.
"Mother…"
So, a small update, moving things along and outlining very clearing where the story is headed. Hope to see you guys stay around for the continuation.
Thank you for reading,