I generally don't give warnings in fanfics but I'm trying to be a more considerate person SO … I have made up quite a bit of backstory in this chapter. Lots of artistic license. Some of you might be like 'What the heck are you doing?' Once I started though I couldn't stop. And it is all going somewhere. That's my defense.
I'm a little nervous about my writing this time, for some reason, BUT I did proofread it multiple times.
Also, there is a touch of smut. That's all I'm saying. But I figure everyone who's into this pairing wants a bit of smut (or a ton) so I don't think it should be a problem.
Quite a bit goes down in the chapter.
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"Uncle Jon, you made it," Bran called over the sound of crashing waves.
The small boat carrying six people slid up onto shore. Four men, including Jon Stark, got out to pull it further inland.
Then he clapped a hand against his nephew's back and hugged him tight. "Is that grey hair I see?" his uncle teased, drawing back.
"Less than you've got, Uncle." Bran swatted him away and waved Barron over. "You remember this one?"
Barron grinned broadly and walked over to greet Jon in the same manner as his brother.
"This one's always been nothing but trouble. Tell me, are all the girls still trying to trick you into marriage?"
Barron had the grace to look abashed and he rubbed the back of his neck. "Thankfully, there aren't a lot of women here. I'm safe for now."
Jon turned to gesture to the boat. "Speaking of women, I've brought your cousin along with me. She was but a child last you saw but she's grown up real fine since then. Allana, come say hello to your cousins."
A tall, slender girl thanked one of the men who'd helped her from the boat and then walked over to her father. Slowly, she unwound the head scarf she'd worn to protect herself from the sun while at sea and shook out her hair. Long red-gold waves spilled around her shoulders. For a moment, both her cousins were too stunned to speak. After three years in Westeros, women had been scarce and this new person was the most beautiful they'd seen in a long time.
Bran broke the silence first, gingerly taking her hand and kissing it. "There's not a prettier girl in all this land, fair cousin." He smiled gallantly and then released her. "This mannerless oaf is Barron, my youngest brother. He's the one helping me keep the blasted natives in check."
Barron hadn't said anything so far. He only stared. As soon as she'd taken off her headscarf, his chest had tightened and his hands went clammy. Allana smiled shyly up at him and extended her hand. He took it as if it would break if he held it too tight. "A pleasure," he murmured, bending over to kiss it.
That scene faded and another took its place. It was less visual. He could only hear words whispered softly.
I love you, Allana.
Promise you'll never leave me.
I promise.
So that was it.
Everything faded back into the Raven's mind as he came back to present. He now knew the basics of the story long past. Barron Stark fell in love with his cousin, Allana Stark, and sometime after he was turned into the Night King he killed her during the Battle for the Dawn.
Allana Stark looked remarkably like Sansa Stark. Was the Night King attempting to get something back from his past? Right an ancient wrong? He had feelings, of that the Raven knew for sure. His feelings were simply more of an enigma than most people's. It had taken the Raven days and nights of searching through endless of memories of the past to find out even this much. And even now, he still was not sure of the Night King's motives.
"Oh, good you're here." Samwell Tarly stuck his head through the bedroom door with a tentative smile. "I was hoping you would be."
"Sam. What do you need?" the Raven asked slowly.
The larger man came fully into the room holding something that resembled a chunk of a book. "Well, Lady Arya-I mean, just Arya-asked me to look into this business with the Night King. Before she left, I mean."
The Raven found it hard to believe that this man had found anything, but stranger things were possible. "And? Did you?"
"No," Sam said slowly, drawing the word out and leading the Raven to think maybe he had. "Well, maybe. I don't know. That's why I came to you."
"Tell me what you found."
Sam moved closer and looked down at the object he carried. "This is the only surviving account of the construction of Winterfell. You know, legend mixed in with fact. I managed to translate it from the Old Tongue, but due to several factors it took some time…"
The Raven watched Sam impassively, as he rambled on. He didn't have emotions like impatience anymore, but he was curious to know how it all connected. So he spoke up. "Sam."
"Alright, alright, I apologize. I'm just nervous." He held up the pieces of old book. "In here, there is a chapter about the Crypts and there's something strange. Look." He opened to the page he was referring to and held it out. On the page, at the top, was a strange drawing. A circle with a diamond in front of it. Then another diamond inside. It looked familiar.
"You've been as close to him as I have." Sam gently tapped the picture.
Suddenly it clicked and the Raven looked up at Sam. "The Night King's pendant. This is a drawing of it. But what does it have to do with the crypts of Winterfell?" And for that matter, what was it doing in a book about Winterfell?
"According to this, it's the Stark sigil." Now Sam got excited and his speech conveyed it. He stuttered. "From b-b-before House Stark was even … a house of Westeros. I mean, it doesn't explicitly say that, but it's heavily implied. It doesn't even say what the sigil represents, at least not in the pages I have. And it makes sense, doesn't it? The First Men came from Essos. There are no direwolves in Essos. Over time, probably after or around the time Winterfell was built, House Stark formed into what it is today and chose a new sigil. After generations, the knowledge of what was before was lost."
The Raven turned his head toward the fire, thinking over everything.
"The Starks are the ones who formed the Night's Watch, built the Wall…" Sam's voice trailed off in amazement. "Everything they did then was to protect Westeros from the White Walkers. The Night King was a-"
"Stark," the Raven finished. "Not only was he a Stark, but he was the brother of Brandon Stark who built the Wall. And this castle."
Samwell looked dazed and had to take a seat in the only chair available, by the fire. "My word."
"But what is the connection to the crypts?"
Sam wiped his brow and looked up. "Well … I think there is something hidden down there. Something that can help us kill the Night King. You see that symbol? Right there? On this page, it's also drawn over the part of the castle where the crypts would be. I haven't gone down there yet. I came to you first."
The Raven stared down at the page. "Thank you, Sam."
Sam waited in expectation but when the Raven didn't say anything he shook his head. "Well? Are we going? I didn't feel right just bursting in on your dead family members."
"Oh, I'm sure they won't mind," the Raven said distantly.
XXXXX
The great of army of the dead marched onward, south. On a hill some distance away, the Night King sat on his horse surrounded by four of his greatest lieutenants, watching.
Stay with them. I will be back.
The four looked at him. They had no choice but to obey, of course, but they still inclined their heads in affirmation.
Then he looked up at the cloudy sky, using the connection that he had to every one of his kind to call his new pet that was currently flying overhead. With a screech, the dragon descended down through the clouds and landed just below the hill.
The Night rode down on his horse, dismounted, and then mounted the dragon. Through their connection, it would know where to go.
Winterfell.
The dragon took off, rising high in the sky. No one in his army even turned their heads to watch. Only one thing interested them: death. Everything else was irrelevant.
His old enemy, the Three-eyed Raven, was attempting to toy with him, using humans. That would stop.
After all, despite his meddling, the Raven had done just what he wanted him to do. He'd seen the girl's mind. A link had been forged.
It was time for the Seer to be destroyed.
XXXXX
Sweat dotted Sansa's brow. In her sleep, she tossed and turned. In her dreams, something much darker, more delicious, was happening. Something that felt forbidden.
Lust.
And love. All consuming, raw, burning into her very being.
His tongue expertly stroked her most sensitive parts, his mouth alternately kissing the inside of one thigh.
"Please," she gasped, tangling her hands in his hair. "I need you."
In response, his hands tightened around her hips drawing her as close to his mouth as he could get. His tongue licked and swirled, dipping down and in and back up again.
"My love…" she moaned, fisting the linen sheet underneath her body.
He broke away from between her legs and rose up high above her, bracing his weight on both arms planted on either side of her head. Her hands explored his chest and torso, pulling him flush against her. It took no time at all for him to be inside her, slowly thrusting, building the tension deep in her belly.
One arm slid under her lower back, and his leg bent at an angle, further spreading her legs apart and giving him deeper access. He built up speed, thrusting hard and fast, as they both liked sometimes, until a blinding, breathtaking sensation flooded her whole body. As she came down from the euphoric high, she felt him increase his pace, giving three quick thrusts, and then he expelled a breath, breathing heavy and collapsing half on top of her.
They both laid like that for several moments, each one recovering from their exertions. Then she turned on her side. His profile was clear to her against the firelight.
"That was much better than the first time," she murmured, lightly tracing a line down the side of his ribs. Their first time together had been painful for her, as she'd expected. Expected or not, it had been a shock.
He faced her then and grinned. "I aim to please."
"I am very pleased."
Suddenly he scooped her up and pulled her into his arms, kissing her forehead. "Good, because I plan on doing this to you every night from now on."
She laughed. "Every night? Won't we have to sleep sometime?"
"No," he said stubbornly.
"When my father dragged me here across the sea, I never thought I could ever be so happy," she murmured. "You know he intended me for Bran."
"Thankfully, my brother and your father love us and want us to be happy." He rubbed against her deliciously. "You know what would make me very happy right now?"
She giggled and her eyes widened in shock. "Again?"
"I'm insatiable."
"It would seem so."
Then he paused and looked deep into her eyes. She cupped his face with her hand, moving circles over it with her thumb. "I love you, Allana."
Hearing those words caused heat to pool in her lower belly, and she arched against him, a teasing smile on her lips. "Promise you'll never leave me."
He kissed her long and slow before answering. "I promise."
Then everything rushed away and Sansa bolted upright in her bed, her chest heavy and the place between her legs aching. She felt cold and alone.
The door burst open and Jon came in looking afraid. "Sansa, get dressed. A dragon was spotted not far from here."
"Daenerys?"
He shook his head. "It's not hers."
He left and her stomach rolled. For one awful moment, she couldn't move. Then she sprang into action, dressing in a simple dark gown and leaving her hair long and loose. She grabbed her heavy cloak, wrapping it around her shoulders and pinning it tight.
Her door was partially open. Men rushed through the halls carrying whatever weapons they could. Mothers hurried children along to safety.
"Sansa! Here!"
She turned to the right and saw Jon and threaded her way to him. "What are we going to do?"
He grabbed her hand and pulled her along. "You're going down to the crypts with Bran and Sam and the others."
"What are you going to do?"
He didn't answer. He didn't know.
"Jon, what if he wants-"
He stopped and spun her to face him. "It doesn't matter what he wants. He's not going to get it."
He couldn't promise that, she knew. No one could protect anyone, especially not her.
Down in the crypts it was awful. The waiting was the worst. Nobody down there could do anything to help so they were just stuck. Waiting. Listening.
"Sansa?"
She looked up. It was Bran.
"Will you bring me over there?" He looked over to a dark, mostly unused part of the crypt.
"Why?"
"There's something there I want to show you."
"Not another vision, please, I can't-"
"It's not that. Hurry." His tone conveyed the opposite of 'hurry' but she reluctantly obeyed wheeling him over.
"Sam?" she asked seeing the man kneeling down on the floor next to an ancient part of the wall that stored a body, presumably. It had been walled up and now held only a few letters of a name and a strange symbol.
He looked up. "Lady Sansa. Forgive me for disturbing your ancestor but we think something might be in there."
"What?"
"We don't know. Not yet. Hand me that hammer."
She bent down and gave it to him. The wall was surprisingly strong for something so old. Sam hammered away until finally chips of dirt and plaster began to fall off.
"Who is it?" she asked wrinkling her nose.
"We're not entirely sure, but it's either Brandon Stark, the founder of Winterfell, or his son, also called Brandon Stark."
"What makes you sure that there is something in there? Besides a corpse?"
Sam pointed at the strange glyph on the wall, now half gone. "You see that? It's the only one in this whole place. We believe that it is a clue to finding something to possibly defeat the Night King."
Sansa's mouth parted in surprise. Then she grabbed the hammer and swung, punching a hole right through, exposing the cavity. "Thanks," he mumbled, lowering his torch to see inside.
"Pull it out, Sam. We don't have much time," Bran told him from behind her. A rumbling noise sounded from above.
Hesitating only for a moment, because desecrating the dead isn't something he was used to, Sam grabbed the wrapped up top part of the corpse and pulled.
"Ugh," Sansa coughed, covering her nose and mouth from the ancient air and dust that spilled out with the body. Then she looked down at the much too small bundle and gasped. "What in the Seven Kingdoms is that?"
"It looks like … a baby," Sam breathed, looking over to Bran.
Bran tilted his head. "Unwrap it."
It felt twice as bad to disturb the resting place of a baby, let alone it's body, but Sam obeyed. Gingerly, he unwound the dark wrapping around the tiny shrunken form. The skin had tightened and darkened over time causing a garish parody of what the baby had originally looked like.
It had been a boy.
"Wait, there's something in its hand." Sam tried to pry the object from out of the tiny grip carefully, but in the end the hand snapped off the arm.
Sansa and Sam winced.
"What is it?"
Another rumble this time accompanied with screams in the distance.
Sam hurriedly looked it over. "I don't know. A pendant of some kind. It has the old sigil on it."
"Hand it to me." Bran held out his hand and took the pendant. Then he closed his eyes briefly. When they opened again, they were white.
Sam and Sansa looked at each other nervously. He was gone for several long minutes and when he came back, his eyes turned brown again.
"This was the child's mother's pendant." He held it back out to Sam. "Keep it safe. It's important."
Sam took it and hid it inside his tunic.
"He's coming for me," Bran said looking at the both of them. "Before he does, I need to show you things, Sam. There's no time to find anyone else."
"What? No. I can't become … whatever it is that you are now. I have a family."
"You won't become like me. I'm the last now."
"Bran, you're not going to die. We won't let him kill you," Sansa said standing up and going to her brother.
"Nevertheless, Sam… we need you."
A look of fright crossed Sam's face. Sounds by the crypt entrance seemed to imply that the door was being broken down. He swallowed hard and then scurried over to Bran.
"Hold my hand," Bran commanded tonelessly.
Sam obeyed. Bran's eyes closed briefly. When they opened, Sam's entire body stiffened and both pairs of eyes went milky. Sansa bit her lip and then moved past them to stand in view of the entrance. When the Night King entered, she hoped to distract him as long as possible while Bran and Sam finished.
Maybe she could save both of them. If the Night King wanted her so badly, maybe he would do this one thing for her in exchange for…
For what? What would he want? He could take whatever he wanted. What did he have to gain by pleasing her?
Nothing.
Her heart pounded in her chest as the door blew open and off its hinges. Everyone screamed and scurried away, anywhere out of sight, if possible. The Night King walked through, seeing her immediately. He came forward and stopped right in front of her. His eyes bored into hers and Sansa remembered that he could see into her mind.
She panicked and raised her hand to hit him. He easily deflected her blow with one arm and then took it in a vice-like grip. Slowly, his head turned to the left and she swallowed hard.
"Please," she whispered, begging. "Leave us alone."
He ignored her and dropped her hand. She spun around and saw him advancing upon Bran. Her eyes darted quickly around but saw no sign of Sam. Bran appeared calm, but she could detect a flicker of sorrow in his face. Or maybe regret?
Sansa grabbed the Night King's arm and pulled with all her strength. It didn't matter. He shook her off and kept walking to stand in front of her brother. Around her, the others who'd been hiding ran out, trying to escape from the monster who'd just slaughtered half their people days before.
She didn't go with them. She couldn't. Not until Bran was safe. And Jon wasn't down here so that must mean…
Tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked them away.
Now your time is over, Seer.
She could hear the Night King's voice as if he were speaking aloud.
Bran didn't respond.
The Other drew his ice blade and raised it high. Sansa shrieked, "No!" and flew over, throwing her body in front of Bran's.
The Night King didn't like that. He made a guttural sound in his throat that was somewhere between a hiss and a protest. He pushed her out of the way and somewhere in the back of her mind she registered surprise at his unwillingness to kill her.
"It's alright, Sansa." Bran glanced at her on the floor and then did something he hadn't done since she'd been reunited with him. He smiled. "Even if the dawn takes awhile, it will come. Remember."
The Night King's blade thrust in through his chest and her brother was no more. Sansa choked on her screams.
He took her arm and pulled her upright, dragging her along with him outside where his dragon waited his command. Her mind was in daze. In shock. She couldn't feel her legs and expected to fall at any moment.
Where was Jon? was the only thought running through her mind as he pulled her onto the dragon with him.
He wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her tight, and then the dragon took flight.
I'm going to be sick, she thought, lurching forward and vomiting over the side. The Night King merely let her finish and then pulled her back up.
It is finished.
I said 'thrust' a lot in this chapter. LOL
So there's a ton of details in this, but mostly it's just backstory and a bit of smutiness. For the sake of the story, I'll have to catch back to up Dany in the next scene. I know all you Dany-haters will love that, but it has to be done. *sigh*
It's just, I can't really have the Night King flying what has to be mere miles away from her and another dragon without anything happening. It would be stupid.