Warg Maiden

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones.


Chapter 19: Mourning for the ones we loved.

Jon's POV

Jon stood there in the room watching Maester Aemon treat Imogen. Her back was covered with cuts and lacerations. He didn't expect Ser Alliser to flog a prisoner. Then again, he forgot that there was bad blood between the Night's Watch and the Wildling Huntress.

He should have asked some of his brothers to guard the door.

"How is she?" Jon asked.

"She is strong, though... the wounds will scar," Maester Aemon answered.

Jon got closer to take a look. Imogen was given milk of the poppy to ease her pain. That was when he saw it. Ygritte mentioned that the Children of the Forest marked the Dire. Hearing stories of a Dire girl who disappeared from her clan for five years. Her body was covered in tattoos of runes he had never seen before. Let alone her back. The stained design swirled around, creating an image. He could make out a heart tree surrounded by a direwolf at the bottom, a crow, and…a dragon. Wildlings do not know about Dragons. How can a Dire have a dragon marred on her skin? The tattoo remained from the bottom of her neck to her hips, like cuts and raised skin to decorate it.

"Have dragons ever come North… beyond the Wall?" Jon asked.

"Once when Queen Alysanne Targaryen wanted to see the True North, yet Silverwing refused. Three times she tried to go over, and three times Silverwing refused," Maester Aemon said, having knowledge of the Targaryens.

"Have any dragons gone beyond the Wall?" he asked.

Maester Aemon laughed, "They were cold-blooded lizards. They didn't like the cold."

"So a wildling seeing a dragon is impossible?" he asked.

"Not in this lifetime," Aemon said with a sigh.

Jon only nodded, staring at the tattoo. Seeing the image and runes swirling around her skin like a story. Ygritte says that Imogen was raised by the Children of the Forest. Shouldn't the children have gone extinct? Last he recalled, they died out after the First Long Night.

Imogen shuddered violently as her eyes fluttered open. She tried to sit up, but Jon placed his hands on her shoulder, as did Maester Aemon. She cried out, not expecting it, as her body slumped down.

"Easy," Jon murmured. "You need to lay down."

"Don't touch me," she hissed. "You Crow!"

Jon pulled back. He knows Imogen hates him with a passion, not because he betrayed the Wildlings, no… because Ygritte was dead. The guilt was building up in his throat that the woman they loved was dead. Jon lost his first love, but Imogen lost her best friend and sister.

"Get some rest," Jon said.

"I'll rest when I have your head," She growled.

Jon sighed as he walked over to the door. Until Imogen continued to seethe, "You broke her heart."

Jon took a deep breath and left.

.o0o.

The following morning, a funeral was set for the Night's Watch. Nearly a half brothers have died, leaving barely a half in the Night's Watch. Then again, there were more wildling deaths in this feud. In the pyre, he could see his friends, Grenn and Pyp. Grenn was killed by a giant, Mag the Mighty, including Donnel Hill, Cooper, and three other brothers. Pyp…based on Sam's statement, an arrow through the neck. When Jon saw the arrow, he knew it was Ygritte's shot.

He looked around, seeing Lord Overton watching with his men. King Stannis, with his family, Ser Davos, and a mysterious woman in red, were up on the inner curtains. All who heard the call came to a stop in this small invasion of survival, especially Lord Overton's one hundred men, Stannis's three thousand Baratheon Calvary, and five hundred Stormcrows.

However, when Jon saw the gathering of the prisoners, he noticed the hundred thousand men who came in the night were not there in the morning. Many believe the Wildlings grew some sense and abandoned Mance. Yet Jon has seen most of the tribes. One tribe that didn't make sense was the Dires. He had heard the direwolves howl through the night. When he came to the wildling camp, only Skadi and Valko were there. Fenrir hasn't spoken since witnessing his daughter being flogged. So Jon needed to figure out where the rest of the Wildlings went.

Maester Aemon stood on the platform, glancing in the direction of their fallen brothers. Resting his hands on the beam, he gave the Night's Watch eulogy.

"They came to us from White Harbor and Barrowton, from Fairmarket and King's Landing, from north and south, from east and west. They died protecting men, women, and children who will never know their names. It is for us to remember them. Our brothers, we shall never see their like again."

"And now their watch is ended," the Brothers of the Night's Watch praised.

"And now their watch is ended," Maester Aemon concluded.

Sam helped Maester Aemon down from the platform, brought it to the pyre, and handed the Maester a torch. Slowly, Maester Aemon set the torch down, starting the fire to burn the deceased. The Maester handed the torch back to Samwell, who walked around and gave it to Jon. Jon accepted it as he stepped forward, igniting his side of the pyre before handing the torch off to Edd. The torch continued to pass around so their fallen could rest peacefully.

During the cremation, Jon felt eyes on him. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing King Stannis observing him. He changed his focus to the pyre, watching the flames grow and consume his brothers, until a pair of blue eyes caught his attention—not from a wight but from the mysterious woman in red. She looked at him like she was staring into his soul. Jon hated that feeling.

.o0o.

Once the funeral service was over, Jon headed to the storage room where the prisoners were kept. Only a dozen wildlings from the South Gate survived. All are shackled and bound, unable to escape. He walked around until he came up to Tormund.

"Your old, blind man patched me up," Tormund said. "Why?"

"He's sworn to treat all wounded men, friend or foe," Jon replied.

"You want me alive so you can torture me?" Tormund growled. "Like you torture Imogen?"

"No one's gonna torture you," Jon promised.

"So how do we die? Hanging? Beheading?" Tormund asked. "Drop us from the top of the Wall?"

Jon took a deep breath, "I don't know what happens to the prisoners."

Tormund stared at him, "Who decides?"

"I suppose Stannis does," Jon guessed.

"He your king now?" Tormund asked.

"I don't have a king," Jon answered.

Tormund looked at him with a slight smirk, "You spent too much time with us, Jon Snow. You can never be a kneeler again."

Jon took another deep breath, "We're gonna burn the bodies of your dead. Do you want to say any words over them?"

"Words?" Tormund asked, confused. "What kind of words?"

"Funeral words," Jon answered. "I don't know how the free folk do it."

"Do what?"

"Say farewell."

"The dead can't hear us, boy," Tormund said with disappointment.

Jon merely nodded before heading out of the storage room. That was when Tormund called him out, "Snow!"

Jon stopped, turning around to face him.

"Did you love her?" he asked.

This took Jon off-guard, not expecting it.

"She loved you," Tormund announced.

"She told you?" Jon asked.

"No," Tormund chuckled, then sighed, "All she ever talked about was killing you. That's how I know. She belongs in the North. The real North. You understand me?"

Jon stared at him for a moment before leaving the storage room. He headed back to check on Imogen. Two Baratheon soldiers were guarding the door. Stannis had assigned them there to ensure none of the Night's Watch could lay harm on her. They let Jon in, seeing Imogen still lying on her stomach. This time, bandages wrapped around her upper body. Meanwhile, her legs were shackled, making any escape impossible.

She turned her head, looking at him. Jon noticed her lip was split, wondering how she had gotten it. At this moment, she appeared like a vulnerable woman, not a wildling.

"What do you want, Crow?" Imogen asked, her voice hoarse.

"I'm going to burn Ygritte's body in the real North. Do you want me to say any words to her?" Jon asked.

Imogen remained quiet as she looked at him with her gray eyes. Jon could almost compare them to dull silver surrounded by an onyx ring. There was a sharpness, almost predatorial to the Dire. Like she has seen through hell and back. The same stare his father, Ned Stark, once held.

"I'm sorry," he said, trying to bring comfort.

Imogen took a deep breath yet said nothing.

Jon considered Tormund's words. He was about to leave until Imogen stopped him.

"My bracelet," she managed to say. "Burn it with her."

Jon was confused until he approached her left side, where a bracelet stood out. It was made out of leather and bone. The bones are carved in the shape of an arrowhead and beads. He silently asked if that was the one, to which she nodded slightly. Jon didn't know if it was a trap, so quickly, he took it off.

"If there is a weirwood tree or heart tree, burn her there," Imogen mumbled, her eyes watering.

Jon wished he could take Imogen to join him for the cremation. But she was a prisoner, and her condition prevented her from traveling. With nothing else to say, he left.

.o0o.

Jon got Ygritte on the stretcher and attached it to the horse. He will not have Ygritte burned in a pile of bodies. Ser Alliser made sure the Wildlings got the dishonorable funeral. Only Lord Overton took over, saying he would deal with the enemy's dead. Jon was thankful for Lord Overton. The man was about fairness, the same as Ned Stark. The Lord may be of a small or lesser house, but the man has seen many wars and treated his fallen and captured enemies respectfully. Even King Stannis has allowed the Lord to take control.

"Jon," Lord Overton said, coming over.

Jon tensed as the honorable Lord glanced at Ygritte's body and then at the young man.

"Got to give the Wildlings credit. Their women fight harder than their men," Lord Overton commented.

"I need to burn her outside of here," Jon said.

"You know her?" Lord Overton asked.

Jon can only nod, his face giving him away.

Lord Overton sighed, "Be back before sundown."

Jon was surprised by this. He thought Lord Overton would turn him in for stealing a body.

"But you need to be careful," Lord Overton warned. "This is your first battle, and it won't be the last. From what I can see, the Night's Watch is going to hell. Hopefully, a certain man can save it before the shite blows over."

Jon once more was surprised by this.

"Better get going before Ser Alliser or Lord Slynt notices," Lord Overton added. "And take your wolf. We may have the Chief of the Dires and his daughter…from what I hear…they're one pack you don't want to mess with."

With nothing else to say, Jon left, calling on Ghost as Sam and Edd helped him get through. Jon knew he had made mistakes. He should have made peace, negotiated with the Wildlings, Mance talking to the council. There were barren areas the Wildlings could inhabit. Yet, Jon followed orders. His Brothers are aware of the wights. They have seen them with Othor risen from the dead to attack Commander Mormont, or when three hundred brothers went north, and only four came back.

Ghost whimpered, sensing Jon's internal struggle. Jon leaned down from his horse to pet Ghost on the top of his head. They headed to a weirwood tree. A heart tree. Ghost took guard, watching out for any Wildlings while Jon made the pyre. Jon felt sick in his stomach, hating what had happened.

Once he was done, he laid Ygritte on the pyre. He took her hand and tied the bracelet to it. It's the least he can do for Imogen. The sound of a hoot caught his attention. He looked up to see a Snowy Owl with gray eyes staring at him. Somehow, he knew it was the Dire Warg. He watched as Imogen flew down and walked over to Ygritte's face, nuzzling her neck. She gave a shriek, one he had never heard an owl make.

"I'm sorry," Jon apologized, meaning it.

Imogen lifted her head, observing him. So many emotions swirled in the warg's eyes. Suddenly, she took off, perching herself on the Weirwood tree, looking down at the pyre. Knowing the warg did not want to talk, Jon took a deep breath, using the torch to light the pyre. Jon stared at Ygritte's face for the last time before walking away. He couldn't watch her burn.

He tossed the torch down and walked away. The tears started to fall as he silently cried for the first time since Ygritte's death. He had to stay strong in front of the Night's Watch, the Wildlings, and the armies. Now, he was so alone that he cried. Men are not supposed to cry, yet this is entirely different. The trauma he has gone through since joining the Night's Watch, he has been beaten, abused, attacked, held prisoner, and disregarded. All because he was a bastard, Ned Stark's son, and a Crow.

He should have taken Ygritte's suggestion of staying in the cave or running off once they made it over the Wall. If he only listened and damned his honor, Ygritte could possibly be alive. Then he took what Lord Overton said. Jon knew he had to fix this mess.

And one person can help him as he looks over his shoulder to see Imogen still in Frigg, who is mourning for her friend.

He'll make this right for Ygritte.

.o0o.

The True North.

Bran was being dragged by Hodor on a stretcher. Summer was looking ahead while Meera and Jojen were behind. They have been traveling through a storm. It is cold, far colder than ever. The further North they go, the chill slithers up their spine. Their limbs weakened by the day. The only one who had strength was Summer, thanks to his fur.

Bran felt useless. His friends were doing all the work while he was on a stretcher. He can see his friends growing weak from the cold. Maybe Imogen was right. It was best not to go after the Three-Eyed Raven. Bran could see Jojen struggling, trudging through the snow. Meera noticed.

"We can stop. We can rest," Meera advised, resting her hand on his shoulder.

"We'll rest with the Three-Eyed Raven," Jojen said.

They were climbing up a hill when Jojen collapsed. Meera rushed over to him with worry. She realized their situation: "We're not going to make it."

Jojen panted, looking around to realize this place was from his vision. The storm has masked it along with his exhaustion to realize it until now. On the other side of the hill will be a weirwood tree.

"We're already here," Jojen breathed.

Hodor and Bran had made it over to the top of the hill. On a rocky hill, he saw the weirwood tree on the other side of the frozen lake. Stone pillars surrounded the weirwood tree, but when looking closer, Bran realized there was a carved face...a heart tree. The storm was breaking, as it showed it was nearing dusk. The sun breaks through the clouds. There was a majestic atmosphere, a presence more powerful than the godswood at Winterfell. Is this the home of the Three-Eyed Raven?

"Jojen!" Bran called out. "Jojen. Look, Jojen. Look."

Meera helped Jojen reach the top of the hill and see the weirwood tree. A sense of relief finally washed over them in reaching the tree of the Three-Eyed Raven. Jojen panted and stared at Bran, who smiled at him. They have made it.

However, Jojen still felt uneasy, for in his vision, his body was on fire. He could sense death was near, and his end would be consumed by fire. He didn't say it, not allowing his sister not to worry. But still, he was apprehensive, especially with his spiritual mission to bring Bran here.

"There seems to be a passage underneath," Jojen noted. "Let's stop there for the night."

Everyone agreed, wanting to get out of the weather. They climbed down slowly and stopped at the edge of the frozen lake. Summer went ahead as the four humans watched the direwolf, testing the strength of the ice. Summer padded along, walking to the center and jumping a bit, yet there was no sound of a crack. It appears the lake is entirely frozen.

When Summer came back, he took the lead in leading the humans across the frozen lake. They needed to get into the passage before they lost light. Hodor was in the lead, dragging Bran along, Meera in the middle of the lake, and Jojen finally stepping on the ice. Their weights balance out, just in case.

Jojen heaved, feeling the pain on his side. He rested a hand, adding more pressure to reduce it. Thirty minutes and can finally rest. Then, all of a sudden, the ice cracked beneath his feet, and a rotten hand grabbed his leg, yanking him down. Meera heard him fall, turning around to see if he needed help, only to gasp when spotting a decaying corpse; a nearby skeleton appeared, climbing out of the ice and dragging Jojen further into the hole.

"Jojen!" Meera yelled, dropping her bag and rushing over. She grabbed his arms and yanked him up. "Come on!"

Hodor was confused.

"Help them!" Bran ordered. "Now!"

Hodor put Bran down and rushed over. When another skeleton hand burst out from the ice, he turned around, facing Bran, afraid. "Hodor."

"Help them!" Bran yelled.

Meera finally got a good grip and got Jojen out of the cluster. A wight, practically a skeleton dressed in clothes of the First Men, appeared from the snow and charged in. It drew a dagger and jumped onto Hodor, trying to stab him. Hodor cried, trying to fight the demon off him. Meanwhile, the wight that decided to take Jojen leaped out, screeching at them. This was the first time all four of them saw the real enemy. Seeing a wight.

The wight charged at them with the dragon glass dagger Samwell Tarly gave them at the abandoned castle. She dodged the ax, trying to stab the creature, yet it shoved her away. Jojen came in with the staff, only to go into the defensive as the wight slammed the ax in his direction. Using all of its force to cut the staff of the spear in two. The impact knocked Jojen down. Meera got up, lunging at the wight, stabbing it in the jaw. It screeches, body convulsing, then falls into many pieces.

However, another wight appeared with a sword coming in to attack Meera. Followed by another who showed itself in front of Bran. Its lower half was missing as it tried to crawl over to Bran. Hodor still tried to fight off his opponent as well. Meera managed to get her spear, swirling it around to make a difference with the wight who had the sword. Jojen got hold of the dragon glass and used what remained of his staff as a weapon. The legless wight managed to climb over Bran, hand clawing at his face, when Summer jumped in, shoving the creature off his master.

Another white appeared with a war hammer. It climbed onto Hodor, smacking him in the face. The unadorned giant was overwhelmed, unable to fight his two opponents. Bran, realizing this, warged inside Hodor. Hodor paused, falling back to a peaceful memory while Bran took over. As blue eyes were replaced with brown. Bran took hold of the Hammer Wight, grabbed its arm, and tossed him over. Next, he took two fingers, poking the first wight in the eyes by curling his fingers in the eye socket and yanking it off him. Another wight appeared, charging at him with a sword. He used the hammer, blocking the attacks.

Meanwhile, Meera was using the forgotten battle ax when her spear broke. She continued to fight the first sword wight, keeping it away from Jojen. She got the handle stuck in its ribcage when Jojen ran in to help. Meera pushed her brother away before returning the ax and continuing the confrontation.

Jojen sat up, seeing another disturbance in the ice as a sixth wight appeared. Charging its way at Bran in his vulnerable state. Jojen knew he wouldn't be able to make it in time. If Bran turned Hodor's body into his original vessel, there would be a chance.

"Bran!" Jojen yelled. "Save yourself, now!"

A seventh wight appeared, charging for Bran. When an eighth appeared, headless grabbed its dagger and stabbed Jojen in the stomach. Jojen's eyes widened, feeling a sharp, frozen pain in his abdomen. Like a breath on a match flame, his energy went out. Shock took over as the wight continued to stab him repeatedly..

Bran and Meera managed to destroy their wights. However, they were too late, as Meera screamed, seeing her kid brother being killed. She shouted from the top of her lungs, destroying the hand and kicking the carcass away from Jojen. Bran looked at his vessel, seeing the two wights running towards him. Summer is still fighting off his prey. Bran knew he couldn't make it. Just as the two wights were about to tackle Bran's vessel, an orb of light came between destroying the wights and knocking Bran down. This knocked Bran back to his body, letting Hodor return.

Bran adjusted himself, seeing his savior.

The person was female, shorter than most women, and practically childlike. She had nut-brown skin that was dappled like a fawn with paler spots, large ears that were pointed like a leaf, and large eyes that were in the shade of green and amber that were slits like a cat and owl. Her hair was tangled and of red, brown, and yellow colors with vines and twigs. Her clothes were made of bark, vines, and leaves, almost molding into her like a second skin.

"Come with me, Brandon Stark," the girl said.

Hodor and Summer were making their way over to help their master. Meanwhile, Meera adjusted Jojen in her arms, seeing the damage. There were a dozen stab wounds as blood poured out.

"He is lost," the girl said. "Come with me or die with him."

Jojen mustered his strength to grab her coat, "Go with them."

Meera cried because she didn't want to abandon her brother. Soon, more wights were bursting out of the snow. Having no other choice, she leaned down, kissing him, before taking the knife that stabbed her brother and slit his throat for a quicker death. Unable to mourn, she got up, running towards the weirwood tree, not looking back. Hodor picked up Bran, carrying him inside the cave. The mysterious girl tossed another light orb that exploded, destroying a wight and Jojen. Once Meera was up close enough, the two girls ran inside.

The moment they got in, three wights burst through the cave only to disintegrate into ash. Bran, Meera, and Hodor panted, bewildered by what just happened. The mysterious girl curled behind the roots of the tree.

"They cannot follow us," the girl said. "The power that moves them is powerless here."

"Who are you?" Bran asked.

"The First Men called us the children, but we were born long before them," she said.

Bran remembers Old Nans' stories, "You're a Child of the Forest."

The girl nodded, "Come, he waits for you."

The adrenaline rushed through their veins. They were in unknown territory. Where the dead can walk, and the Children of the Forest are still alive. Hodor picked Bran up while they followed the girl through the tunnels. Noticing the vines and roots everywhere along the walls and ceilings. Finally, coming across a carved chamber in the center was a gathering of roots where a man was entangled, along with several crows resting around the older man. As they walked further in, noticing the pile of bones on the ground. Several of the children hid around, observing their new guests.

Hodor glanced at Bran for a moment, wondering what to do. Bran nodded to Hodor to put him down. Bran crawled his way till he reached the center by the tree. He looked at the old man.

"You're the Three-Eyed Raven?" Bran asked.

The man raised his head, "I've been many things. Now I am what you see."

Meera stepped forward, "My brother, he led us to you, and now he—"

"He knew what would happen," the Three-Eyed Raven said in a calming manner. "From the moment he left, he knew, and he went anyway."

"How do you know that?" Meera asked.

"I've been watching you. All of you. All of your lives. With a thousand eyes and one," The Three-Eyed Raven praised. "Now you've come to me at last, Brandon Stark. Though the hour is late."

"I didn't want anyone to die for me," Bran said.

"He died so you could find what you have lost," The Three-Eyed Raven countered.

"You're going to help me walk again?" Bran asked with hope.

"You will never walk again," The Three-Eyed Raven answered. "But you will fly."

Fly? Bran thought, confused.


Thus, ends Season 4. Sorry that this is not an Imogen POV chapter.

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