Warg Maiden

Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones.

Chapter 2: Trying not to remember

The Past

Imogen's POV

I don't know how it all happened, but I can say it started with a blizzard. The Dire Tribe was on the move to Lunar Haven, the location where the Dires head during the winters. I was eleven then, and the weather started off as usual by the outskirts of the Frostfang near the Bay of Ice. After making a trade near the Antler River, we passed through the Fist of the First Men.

The blizzard came out of nowhere, and Valko and Skadi secured themselves close to my brothers and me. Papa walked ahead to lead the men with others in the councils before making his way back. I stumbled and tripped, and Papa quickly grabbed hold of me.

"Don't let go of my hand, little pup," He loudly said over the screaming winds.

I cling to his hand tightly, not wanting to let go.

"We need to make camp!" one of the men yelled.

"Not until we reach the mountains!" Chief Fenrir ordered. "Everyone stay together!"

So, we stick together.

As I held onto Papa's hand while holding onto Skadi. Time went on in the world of white. The winds were howling, and the snow was getting in my eyes. The air was colder than ever, but I kept holding Papa's hand. Then, all of a sudden, there was screaming. Not a scream of someone tripping, but an actual cry of fear. More screams followed. Then, all of a sudden, something tackled us. I don't know what it was, but it separated Papa and me. I fell, tumbling away, banging my head on the icy ground. A groan escaped my lips as I tried to stand up, hearing more screams, men fighting, and the direwolves growling. Out in the fog, seeing icy blue eyes.

"Papa!" I exclaimed. "Mum!"

"Imogen," Boudica shouted. "Imogen, where are you!"

"Imogen!" Fenrir bellowed.

A figure could be seen walking his way over to me. I got up, rushing over to it, thinking it was Papa. However, the moment I got to him, I realized it was not Papa. It was a living corpse with vibrant blue eyes. Ones the elders talked about — a Wight. I screamed, scared, as it made its way, raising its ax. Just as it was about to attack, Skadi jumped in, tackling the Wight down and ripping it to shreds. Even when torn into many pieces, the Wight was still alive. Skadi rushed over to me, and I grabbed her fur while she led the way to escape.

"Find Valko," I told her.

Direwolves can easily smell their own.

However, we couldn't find them. We walked in the direction we thought the tribe was going. It was a foolish mistake on my part. I should have remained where I was so Valko could sniff for us. I was a scared little girl who encountered a monster. By then, it was too late, and I was already lost. When the blizzard died, I was lost in the mountains, unsure where to go, with no supplies other than a small knife. I tried calling for members of the tribe, even warging with a few birds, but my emotions were too overwhelming, so I couldn't connect. So, I knelt down next to Skadi and cried.

That was when the same raven that had been following me landed in the snow in front of me. He cawed, trying to gain my attention. His eyes were black, not the color of a Warg in possession. I grabbed a rock, thinking I could kill and eat it, but he flew away, circling around me in the air.

"Go away!" I shouted, then sobbed. "Go away!"

Suddenly, Skadi whimpered before tensing. I looked into her eyes, seeing they were no longer blue and yellow. Instead, they were gray. A warg has taken possession of Skadi. I smiled, sighing in relief as I grabbed hold of her dark fur.

"Take me to the others," I said.

Skadi nodded as she started leading the way with the Warg's guidance. Once more, I was a naïve eleven-year-old girl. A girl who thought a warg from her tribe entered her direwolf to lead her back home. Instead, the Warg led me farther away through the mountain pass. We were heading east, not west, based on the sun, during the early morning hours. I was confused about where the Warg was taking me when crossing through a pass. There stood a weirwood tree surrounded by carved boulders. It was massive from all the others as the red leaves reached for the sky. Underneath was a small cave.

A person came out.

The person was female, shorter than most women I ever met, almost my size, if not slightly taller. She had nut-brown skin that was dappled like a fawn with paler spots, large ears, massive eyes in the shade of green, and amber slit like a cat. 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. I was nervous, wondering if I had wandered into another tribe that harms others.

"Come with me, Imogen," she said, her voice high and sweet, offering a hand. "Come with me so that you can be warm and fed."

Once more, I was a scared child, having nowhere else to go.

"Who are you?" I asked.

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

"The Children of the Forest," I whispered.

The child nodded, "I am called Leaf. Come, he waits for you."

"Who?" I asked.

Leaf smiled as she took my hand, leading the way inside the cave. She guided me through a series of tunnels tangled in vines and roots until I finally came across a carved chamber in the center, a gathering of roots where a man was entangled in them, along with several crows resting around the older man. As we walked further in, I tripped once more over something. When I looked down, I gasped, seeing the bones of humans.

"You're Thenns!" I screamed, pulling away.

Thenns were cannibals. They eat people as a means of survival. They prefer eating people instead of the animals off the land.

"Never has anyone called me a Thenn," the older man in the tree murmured. "No child, neither myself nor the children will eat you."

"Then what are you?" I mumbled, clinging to my knife.

"I've been many things," he answered calmly. "Now, I am what you see."

I paused, taking his words in, "You're the Three-Eyed Raven."

"I am," he confirmed. I've been watching you—all of your life—with a thousand eyes and one. Now you've come to me at last, Imogen, Daughter of Fenrir and Boudica, though the hour is early."

"Can you help me get back to my family?" I asked.

"Your family is lost. But you will see them again," he promised.

"I don't understand," I mumbled.

"You shall see them again, in the past, the present, and the future," he explained. "As I take you under my wings."

.o0o.

The Present

I opened my eyes and found myself back in the tent I shared with Fenrir. It was only a dream, a memory of when I first got separated from my family and met the Children of the Forest and the Three-Eyed Raven. I was so naïve many years ago. A scared child who was separated from her clan and encountered a monster, trusting the first living human. Believing in Raven's words that my parents were dead as he taught me to become the next Three-Eyed Raven. He taught me how to Warg properly and stare into visions of the past. I saw history from the very beginning of Westeros.

When I was not being trained by the Three-Eyed Raven, I was with the Children of the Forest. Leaf was my friend during my stay. She and the others taught me how to live off the land, track, and fight. Let alone teach me the children's ancient language and readings of their runes. They also taught me their magic. Although I was a human, descended from the First Men, I learned to make ointments and salves that mend damaged skin and treated illnesses.

When I was separated from the others, being rejected by the Three-Eyed Raven…I felt like I had lost my second family. Ygritte will always be my best friend, but Leaf and the others… were my friends as well. Without them, I would have died lost in the North that is always in winter's embrace. The last thing I had of them was the markings they etched into my skin, the bracelet made of vines, and my spear. They'd given me the most significant piece of dragonglass and carved the ancient runes in the spear.

There was another who guided me during those five years. He appeared in my dreams alone. The man who was a spirit, his soul, remains inside the roots of the weirwood tree as the Three-Eyed Raven inhabits his body. His name was once Ser Brynden Rivers, but he told me to call him Bloodraven. I took a deep breath, not wanting to think about him right now after what he did...to prevent my fate.

"You're up," Fenrir greeted.

I looked up, seeing Fenrir awake while packing up his gear.

"Are we leaving today?" I asked.

"Aye, Mance wanted us on the move in case the Crows are looking for their baby bird," Fenrir answered. "I let you sleep in."

"Thank you, father," I said, forcing a small smile.

It was a challenging year to reconnect when I returned to my family. My parents looked the same, except for the strands of silver in their hair, yet my siblings looked different. My two brothers are twins, Aiden and Ethan. Boudica, my mother, struggled as well, as the essential years of our connection were taken away. I will not blame the Children of the Forest for being my second family and for how they cared for me as they helped me through the phases of life. But the Three-Eyed Raven, I can never forgive. A year to reconnect, yet I was still distant, for I knew the fate of the world. I have seen the past, have knowledge of the present, and…partial understanding of the future.

Although in my travels since reuniting with the clans, I have been in search of a weapon that can prevent the Army of the Dead from crossing the Wall. One that the First Men created since the creation of the Wall. The Horn of Winter, also known as Joramun's Horn. Supposedly, if blown, the sound from the horn can crumble the Wall. Magic is real, for I have seen it. If the Night King gets hold of it, then it will be the end of it all. Sadly, the only vision of the horn I could see was it being hidden and lost in the land. The First Men hid it well, and eight thousand years later, the world changed.

I sighed, sat up, got ready for the day, and helped Fenrir dismantle the tent. Once done, I secured the only thing I received from Bloodraven: a longsword. In the dreams, he taught me how to use this sword hidden underneath the Three-Eyed Raven's feet. A fancy sword for a fancy lord. Bloodraven said the sword had a name called Dark Sister. Once belonging to a strong and powerful woman named Visenya Targaryen. A mouthful of a name as the steel contains dragon fire in the blade. Therefore, I secured Dark Sister before joining Fenrir with Skadi and Valko by our side.

It will be a long march as we head South. The rest of my family was at Lunar Haven with the women and children. During the walk, Ygritte came over to talk about her little adventure with the Crow. Saying his men caught her group off guard, Jon literally caught her. Qhorin Halfhand ordered Jon to kill her, yet he couldn't. She continued onwards, believing Jon is a virgin, since any advances she makes, he becomes awkwardly shy.

"I'll make him a man," Ygritte jest. "Not those fancy words them Crows promised."

"Ygritte," I started.

"What, as if you haven't had a man's cock before," She teased.

I gave her a warning look. I was still physically untouched. But…there was a man of interest, and I thought there might be something with Bloodraven, for in the realm of the dream, we did fornicate. Ygritte knew some of my life under the weirwood tree. She knew about Bloodraven.

"Oh, sorry," Ygritte apologized. "You need to let them go after what they did to you."

I sighed, "Yet they taught me enough to give us the upper hand."

Ygritte nodded in agreement.

As we continued to walk, Orell came over to us.

"Imogen, mind helping me on scouting ahead?"

I nodded at Orell and Ygritte and stepped aside along with Tormund, who was with him. We found a good spot, as Orell and I sat down and, with a deep breath, we connected with our familiars. Frigg was flying south, already having a lead at the end of the Fist of the First Men. Meanwhile, Orell connected with his Eagle.

.o0o.

Frigg was flying over a trail when I connected with her as the Night's Watch trudged through. I flew around, observing that their numbers had dropped drastically from the last sighting. Thirty or so Crows were walking near the outskirts of the Haunted Forest, about a day or so's a journey away. I landed on a boulder as the men were too weatherworn to notice me. A Big Crow was walking, and he appeared upset. Tears stained his cheeks, yet he continued walking.

One Crow approached the chubby, one saying, "What's the matter piggy? You crying 'cause you're cold? There are two-hundred brothers killed by dead men, and you're still here whimpering. That seems fair to you? I seen 'em torn to pieces fighting while you were off somewhere hiding in a hole. Why don't you lie down and rest for a while, eh? You know you want to."

The Mean Crow passes the Big Crow, shoving him a bit. The Big Crow slows down in his walk before falling to his knees. The Mean Crow turns around, shaking his head in disapproval. Two crows who are ahead notice the Big Crow on the ground and walk back to him. I recognize one as Edd, a Crow I caught and left a protection charm on him.

"Get up, Sam," the Crow said.

"No," the Big Crow called Sam replied as he hunched over.

"Get up," The Crow yelled.

"I can't, Grenn," Sam cried.

"If you stop, you'll die," the one called Grenn said, trying to help his friend up.

"'Course if you don't stop, you'll probably die, too," Edd added.

"You don't care," Sam whimpered.

"Course we care," Grenn assured.

"You left me," Sam cried, looking up at his friend. "When the White Walkers came, you left me."

"Aye, we left you," Edd confirmed. "You're fat and you're slow. We didn't want to die."

Grenn gave Edd a baffled look, not expecting the Crow to say that. To which Sam began to sob, and Grenn shook his head as he tried to help his friend up.

"Help me get him up," he asked.

The Mean Crow returned, "Looks like that piggy is done for."

"Help us get him up," Grenn barked as he and Edd tried to get Sam to stand.

"He's slowing us down," the Mean Crow said.

"Just get him up!" Grenn yelled.

"Why? So, the rest of us can die?" the Mean Crow asked. "We'll move faster without him."

Heartless bastard, I thought.

And to think the Night's Watch is supposed to be a brotherhood. The Wildlings will undoubtedly have the advantage if this is how they work. Suddenly, a familiar Crow came over. The one leading them was Lord Commander Jeor Mormont.

"What is this?" Mormont demanded. "Get up, Tarly."

Edd and Grenn manage to get Sam back on his feet.

"Is he all right?" Mormont asked.

"Aye, I think so," Grenn answered.

"If he can't, we may as well just go without him," the Mean Crow said.

"That's enough," Mormont ordered, then looked at Sam. "Tarly, I forbid you to die. Do you hear me?"

Sam paused yet slightly nodded his head to the Lord Commander.

"Why should the rest of us –" the Mean Crow started.

"Rast…" Mormont interrupted. "…You're responsible for him."

"What am I supposed to do?" Rast asked.

"Make sure he gets back alive. If he doesn't, you don't," Mormont ordered before returning to the group. "Move on!"

Rast glared at Sam, who ignored him. As Sam continued walking, Rast leaned over and said, "I'm not dying for you, Piggy. You hear me?"

Sam did not respond as he continued walking. As he walked past, Frigg froze in shock. That was when I saw what was secured to his belt. There was Joramun's Horn. The Crows have the horn. Damn it. If Sam Tarly blows the horn, it will be the end for the Wall that keeps the Others inside. I need to find this Sam before it is too late. Nothing else to see, I made Frigg fly back.

.o0o.

Jon's POV

Jon trod through the snow with the wildlings. He was amazed by how Mance Rayder managed to get the wildlings to work together. In his training with the Night's Watch, he learned that some tribes don't get along with others. He walked a bit and stopped seeing the men, women, and children of different ages, skills, and cultures marching their way south. A part of him was impressed, but the rest of his inner self knew this was a lost cause. Six times, the Wildlings have invaded south; now it will be the seventh time. Even though there is a good cause for their migration, the Lords of Westeros will not accept them. Not after thousands of years of wildlings invading the North and South, raiding, stealing, and killing.

Mance Rayder approached Jon, "Was it hard for you to kill the Halfhand?"

"Yes," Jon sighed.

"You liked him?" Mance asked.

Jon could only nod.

"I like you, but if you're playing us false, it won't be hard for me to kill ya," Mance warned. "I've got wildling's blood in my veins. These are my people."

"I understand," Jon assured, though he was lying. He had to get back to Castle Black and warn Lord Commander Mormont of Mance's plans.

"Well, how could you understand?" Mance asked.

Jon stopped to turn around and face him. "You want to protect your people."

"Do you know what it takes to unite ninety clans, half of whom want to massacre the other half for one insult or another?" Mance asked. They speak seven different languages in my army. The Dires hate the Thenns. The Thenns hate the Hornfoots. The Hornfoots hate the Ice-river clans. Everyone hates the cave people. So, you know how I got moon worshippers, cannibals, and giants to march together in the same army?"

"No," Jon replied.

"I told them we were all going to die if we don't get south," Mance explained. "Because that's the truth."

The two started walking until Mance noticed a small party on the side of the trail. They headed that way seeing Chief Fenrir, Tormund, and Ygritte looking at the sky, where an eagle was flying. On the ground were Imogen and another man with a mustache. Both their eyes were gone, leaving nothing but a void of white. Jon was a bit concerned, wondering if there was a medical problem.

"Shouldn't be long now," Tormund whispered.

"What's wrong with them?" Jon asked.

"They're wargs," Mance answered.

Jon looked at him, confused, never hearing such a thing.

"They can enter the minds of animals, see through their eyes," Chief Fenrir explained. "They're scouting for us."

"What, you've never met a warg?" Ygritte asked, surprised.

Jon shook his head, looking back at the two. He recalls Old Nan talking about Skinchangers and Beastlings but never the word Warg. He stared at them, seeing the deep trance they were in. Practically numb, with their mouths slightly open as if they were in a daze. A trance of a spell while being blind.

As he watched, he noticed a sword on Imogen's lap. It was a longsword, slightly shorter than Longclaw. The handle was wrapped in black leather, the pommel was in the shape of flames, the cross guard held the shape of dragon wings, and a ruby was in the center of the rim guard. Jon wonders what Lord who became a Brother of the Night's Watch that blade belonged to. Since all the other swords the wildlings had were repurposed with animal bone handles.

He recalled Edd talking about his encounter with the Wildling Huntress, who had her Direwolf pinned him down and carved a symbol into his chest a few years back. Jon finds this person strange since Wildlings never leave a Crow to live.

"Orell," Mance called out.

"Imogen," Fenrir did the same to his daughter.

Both shivered with a gasp, trying to catch their breaths. They closed their eyes briefly before looking up with their normal eyes.

"Where were you this time?" Mance asked.

"The Fist of the First Men," Orell answered.

"The outskirts of the Haunted Forest," Imogen added.

"What did you see?" Mance asked.

Orell chuckled, glancing at Jon, "Dead Crows."

"A small group of Crows, thirty or so heading south," Imogen added. "Returning to their nest."

"Leaving with their tails between their legs," Tormund said.

"We better see what happened," Mance said.

Everyone nodded, wondering what Orell meant by dead crows and what Imogen saw. Jon was concerned, hoping Grenn, Sam, and Edd were all right.

So what do you think?

Thanks for reading, and please leave a review!

Updated Notice: House of the Dragon came out, and I decided to change the sword. It's a cross-breed between the show and book versions.

Updated!