Warg Maiden

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Old Tongue

Chapter 68: The Next Step

Imogen's POV

For the first time in a long time, I sense less weight on my shoulders. I woke up, sitting up, trying to figure out why I felt so…I don't know the word. It was not peace. For I still feel the stress of preparing for the Long Night. But knowing I trapped the Three-Eyed Raven…could it be justice or satisfaction. I just knew I faced someone who truly wronged me.

I don't know.

All I know is that I ended the cycle. The Raven will no longer steal the bodies of wargs and possible greenseers.

The door opened, and Boudica came in. She smiled to see me awake as she sat down next to me. She wrapped her hand on the back of my head, gently pulling me forward so our foreheads were pressed. I smiled softly, for it was our tradition. When she pulled back, she cradled my cheek.

"How do you feel?" She asked.

"Better," I answered. "As if I can breathe."

Boudica nodded as she took my injured hand, unwrapping the bandages to check on it. I did not pay attention during my headache. I forgot to speak to Jon after dropping me off, as I was exhausted. I even drank the draft so I could sleep.

"Jon Snow came by yesterday afternoon to check on you," Boudica announced.

My eyes widened, "Yesterday afternoon? How long have I been asleep?"

"A very long time," she murmured. "You deserved it."

I sighed, for I do feel a bit better.

Wait, if Jon came to visit, did that mean, "You two talked?"

"Aye, we did," she said. "And he understands."

"He does?" I asked.

"Now he decides," she answered. "You struggle with words, as your mind has been plagued by the Great War. So, I told him the truth, and he understands."

I took a deep breath; I wished she didn't tell him. Then again, I had accepted death, forcing myself to forget the second possibility. Yet I felt it in my bones that death was near. Boudica finished treating my hand.

"He loves you," she said. "He won't abandon you."

I shook my head, "I fear I am the one who will abandon him."

"Not by choice," she said. "Let's get you dressed."

I nodded, and Boudica helped me get dressed and do my hair. She wanted to spend time with me before fate made its decision.

"Do not hide your maiden mark," she said.

I stared at the direwolf crest. I glance at the reflection to see Boudica's maiden mark. For on her neck were two serpents entwined to one another. Her once family were known as healers, as were our foremothers. Boudica did simple loose braids for my hair; I saw the ink on her hands that took the shape of herbs. I thought about my future and let my imagination wander of possibilities.

Once Boudica was done, she pecked my cheek and let me be.

I got up, secured my weapons, and went to the solar to see everyone was gone. Fenrir and the twins must have gone to help prepare for the war. I went to the window and saw the trenches being made. One around Winterfell and another farther out. For it was one idea to set traps filled with dragonglass spikes or pitch that, when ignited, would set ablaze.

Along with constructions to make some sort of barricade.

Time.

Any moment now, the Night King will order his army south. He will come to collect what has been stolen from him. Once he claims the Three-Eyed Raven, he will end all life. Was it just the command he was made for? To kill all humans? Or is it something else entirely?

I sighed, heading out.

Just as I left the wing, I came face to face with Jon. We stared at each other, none of us speaking. I didn't know what to say. Especially when he talked with Boudica. Jon sensed my hesitation as he came over and suddenly gave me a kiss. I gasped silently, not expecting it, yet melted into his lips. Sadly, the kiss was short-lived, as he pulled back to look me in the eyes.

"We focus on the now," he agreed to our terms.

I blink a few times, grasping his words.

"And if we survive this, we can't have secrets," he added.

I sighed, resting my head on his chest.

"You still think we will survive?" I asked.

Jon wrapped an arm around me, "I don't know."

I took a deep breath.

"Have you eaten breakfast yet?" he asked.

I shook my head, "No."

"Then come join my family and me," he murmured.

We made our way to the Stark Wing with nothing else to say. Nothing was said as we moved in comfortable silence.

"Sansa knows about us," Jon murmured in Old Tongue.

It took me a moment as I tried to grasp his words, "Do the others?"

"My brothers saw us kiss," he reminded.

"Oh," I managed to say.

"And you haven't officially met Arya," he added.

We have been back in Winterfell in less than a week, and I have not met Arya Stark. I might have seen her in passing, but I am not sure. I've been so focused on capturing the Raven and helping in preparations for battle that I barely talked to people in a social manner.

We entered the private dining room where the Starks were. Sansa was there, giving a small smile, while Rickon gave a massive grin. Bran sat in his wheelchair, a bit exhausted, yet he seemed well. It reminded me that I would need to talk to him privately. Another person, an adolescent, strongly resembled the Starks of Old. Dark hair, grey eyes, and a long face. She must be Arya.

I felt her presence. Although she was one person, I sensed many more in her eyes, as if she danced around with death. A type of aura filled her, yet I could not tell if it was neutral or forbidden. But most of all, I felt like I was staring into my own reflection—of someone I used to be when I was abandoned.

"Are you alright?" Rickon asked.

I blinked a few times, "Aye. Just a thought came to mind."

Rickon nodded, "Come sit. Join us."

I nodded as Jon led me to the table. Before I could grab a seat, Rickon stood, pulled the chair out, and gestured for me to sit. I smiled slightly.

"Why thank you, kind sir," I murmured.

Blushed covered Rickon's face with a gasp that he quickly pushed me in. His siblings chuckle at this.

"A wildling with manners," Arya said.

Everyone stared at Arya, baffled by what she said.

"Arya," Jon warned as he sat down next to me.

I remained quiet, staring at her as she stared at me. She was waiting for retaliation, a reaction, yet I kept my composure, going back to that mindset. We continued to stare at each other; neither of us was blinking. The others watched.

How long can this girl last before she concedes? I thought curiously.

After another moment, a smirk lifted her lips, nodding her head in acceptance. I chuckled, shaking my head, quite amused. The others stared at us, not sure what happened. I didn't know what was going on. Either way, I gathered some food on my plate and ate. I was famished, yet I tried to use my manners.

We all ate as small conversations were being passed.

"Why do you have a Stark crest on your neck?" Arya asked.

I took a deep breath, "It's my maiden mark, for my blood family."

"Jon says you are a Dire," Arya asked. "And Sansa says you are a Stark."

I nodded, "Aye, from the second son of Bran the Builder. But when the Andals came, our families were divided from the Wall."

Arya took this in, "Are there any others?"

"My brothers, Ethan and Aiden," I said. "And my father, Fenrir. We are what remains of the Wild Starks. We have distant kin, similar to you with the Karstark…but they either died, stolen, or estranged."

"Does that make us related?" Rickon asked.

"I don't think having the same ancestors makes us purely related, with six thousand years between us," I answered.

"I would agree," Bran said, staring at Jon and I with a grin

Jon adjusted himself, "There is something I need to tell you all."

They looked at him. Jon took a deep breath as he took my hand

"Imogen and I are courting," Jon announced.

Rickon grinned with excitement. Bran stared at us for a moment, blinking and smiling. Sansa nodded her head in acceptance. Arya was evaluating the situation.

"If we survive this battle, I want your support," Jon said.

"Because she is a wi- "Arya started.

"Free Folk," Sansa corrected. "If we are going to be allied with Free Folk, we will call them by the term they prefer."

I was surprised by this. Then again, Sansa hasn't called me a Wildling in my presence. Nor has Rickon. Have the two accepted me as one of their kin?

"I agree with Sansa," Bran said. "Arya is just questioning Imogen because she doesn't like new people in our family."

Arya gave him a glare.

I sighed, wishing for battle now.

.o0o.

Jon's POV

Jon and Imogen were walking along the field with their direwolves as they checked on the men setting up the trenches. He felt some peace in telling his family about his courtship and that they had accepted Imogen. Well, Arya is still cautious, but that is Arya after everything she went through.

"Arya doesn't like me," Imogen murmured.

Jon stopped as he turned to face me, "She doesn't know you."

"I was like her once," Imogen murmured.

Jon snorted at that, as he could believe it. He, too, can sense something has happened to Arya. Whatever happened to her after King's Landing, she has changed. They all have. It will be only a matter of time when Arya feels comfortable enough to tell the family about her adventure.

"Just give her time," he assured her.

Imogen stared at him and nodded. Suddenly, they heard a party by the Dothraki coming in, and Daenerys was out in the field with Ser Jorah. Curiously, they made their way over. One of the Dothraki generals spoke to Daenerys in his native language. Whatever he said made her concerned.

"What's the matter?" Jon asked.

"The dragons are barely eating," Daenerys answered.

"Do they eat on a regular or gorge?" Imogen asked.

"Both," Daenerys answered.

With nothing else to say, they grabbed their horses and made their way to where the dragons had taken refuge near the rugged terrain. Jon wanted to check on Rhaegal to be sure he was alright. When they arrived, they got off their horses, and Ser Jorah took the reins of the horses, volunteering to stay behind. The three nodded as they, with Skadi, made their way over a hill to find the dragons.

The snow had melted, covered in ash with chard bones all around them. Drogon and Rhaegal crawled over them, their heads reaching out. Drogon was in Daenerys's space as she patted his snout.

"What's wrong with them?" Jon asked, only to have Rhaegal in his space.

"They don't like the North," Daenerys assumed.

Jon took that in as he petted Rhaegal. Although he could hear Ghost giving a growl behind him. Imogen petted Ghost, comforting the albino direwolf.

"More like the cold," Imogen said. "They're fire-lizards."

Daenerys made her way around Drogon and climbed onto the black dragon's back. Jon noticed this but was unsure what Daenerys was doing.

"Go on," Daenerys insisted.

Jon turned to face her, looking up. Is Daenerys allowing him to ride Rhaegal. Has she discovered that he bonded with the green dragon, or was this her generosity? He rode on Drogon before during the escape, but he doesn't remember much of it because of his poor condition.

"I don't know how to ride a dragon," Jon countered.

"Nobody does, until they ride a dragon," Daenerys murmured.

Imogen snorted at that.

"What if he doesn't want us to?" Jon asked.

"Us?" Imogen replied.

Rhaegal made a noise of offense.

"Then I've enjoyed your company, Jon Snow," Daenerys said. "Lady Imogen, you are welcome to ride with me."

Imogen gave a nervous chuckle, "I appreciate the offer, but I prefer to be grounded to the earth."

"I take no offense," Daenerys assured.

Jon stared at Imogen, for he would like her company. However, when he looked at her, he could tell she was not ready to fly.

"I'm not ready," Imogen whispered, as her hand wrapped around her other wrist where the bracelet was.

Jon assumed she enjoyed flying in Frigg and was still not ready for pleasure in flight.

"Be careful," Imogen murmured. "And don't fall."

Jon gave her an expression to be sure, in which Imogen nodded. Jon sighed, taking a deep breath as he made his way around Rhaegal. It was a struggle at first, not like riding a saddled horse. Seven Hells, he rode a horse bareback, which was still a struggle to get on. As Rhaegal muscles moved, the texture of his scaly skin and grasping onto small spikes. He almost lost his balance slouching over the green dragon. Jon mimicked Daenerys's position, he noticed that Rhaegal didn't have the same quills as Drogon.

"What do I hold onto?" Jon asked.

"Whatever you can," Daenerys answered.

"Have fun," Imogen called out as she and the two direwolves made some distance.

Rhaegal gave a chitter, flapping his wings, and took to the air without warning. Jon held on tight, his thighs pressing deep into the dragon's scale as he flew into the sky for the second time. This surprised Jon, seeing the world from a whole new perspective. It is as if he can feel a deeper bonding connection with Rhaegal.

It wasn't long till Daenerys and Drogon caught up, leading the way, as she tried to show him how to direct a dragon. They flew over Winterfell, thus surprising everyone.

Jon held on tight as his life depended on it. The winds swirled around him, and it tried to knock him off. He desperately held on time, trying to figure out how to stay on and guide Rhaegal. A deep rumble laugh could be heard as if Rhaegal was telling him to give up and enjoy the ride.

The dragons soar across the Wolfswood before reaching the countryside of the mountains and ravines. Ignorant in maneuvering Rhaegal, he tried to ride the dragon like a horse. Rhaegal shrieked to get his rider's attention as the connection that Jon could not describe put them in sync. Screaming at the top of his lungs from the adrenaline as they glided down and corrected over the frozen river. Jon soon got Rhaegal to catch up with Daenerys, who led the way.

.o0o.

Imogen's POV

I chuckled softly upon hearing Jon's surprised shout. As tempting as it was to fly a dragon, I was not ready. Yes, I warged inside a raven and the albatross, but I felt it would be a betrayal to Frigg. Maybe one day, I will get a chance to ride a dragon. But it is not today.

Ghost gave a whimper, seeing his human brother flying without him. No doubt, sensing the bond that was growing between Rhaegal and Jon. Although a dragon bond existed, it would not replace the imprinting between direwolf and human.

I petted the top of the albino's wolf's head, "Come now. You know you will be his favorite."

Ghost whimpered. Skadi made her way over to him, nudging against him. I stared at the size comparison. Ghost seemed to be halfway there to be the same size as Skadi. Maybe one day Jon will ride on Ghost. But it is not today.

I shuddered, suggesting we make our way back.

As we did, I went to Ser Jorah and said, "They will be gone for a while. Shall we return?"

"I think I will stay for a moment and check the grounds," he said.

I nodded and stopped to look at him, "Why do you serve her?"

"Do you believe in a plan for this world?" Ser Jorah asked.

I sighed, "The gods and fates are confusing."

Ser Jorah chuckles, "Aye, they are. I saw a girl step into a great fire with three stone eggs. When the fire burned out, I thought I'd find her blackened bones. Instead, I saw her, Daenerys, alive and unhurt, holding her baby dragons."

I blinked a few times, wondering how Daenerys would still be alive.

Was this Valyrian magic or something else? In visions of the past, I recall that King Viserys told his second wife, Alicent, that there are dragon riders and dragon dreamers. Bloodraven mentioned that the Valyrians had a tolerance for heat. Yet none were immune, as many Targaryens succumbed to the flames.

"She is a great mystery," I murmured. "One, I hope she is good and not a shadow of a terrible ruler."

"I believe she can be loved and feared with her gentle heart." Ser Jorah added.

I suppress a snort, for I wouldn't say Daenerys had a gentle heart.

"Go back, Lady Imogen, I'm sure many could use your help," he insisted.

I still don't see myself as a lady. But I kept my mouth shut and nodded. I got on Skadi before we took off to Winterfell with Ghost in tow. It wasn't long before we made our way back. I did my rounds, trying to see if there was any assistance. Fenrir was also with the twins, as they were getting the outer trenches set with spikes with dragonglass shards. Even Valko digging. I then check on the priestesses, who have been occupying and marking many with the rune of protection. It was tedious, as many women with a firm hand marked many warriors from the North and Free Folk. They were going as fast as they could, yet the terrible ruler ink took time to set into the skin.

I then realized I needed to set the Starks their marks. I don't want any of them to suffer the fate of becoming a wight. I grabbed some supplies and headed back inside. That was when I spotted Bran sitting in the courtyard, staring at the gate. The Three-Eyed Raven did that, so why was Bran doing it? Summer sat next to Bran as the boy petted his direwolf.

Ghost, Skadi, and I made our way over to him, "Is something wrong?"

Bran shook his head, "The Raven always sat here, waiting. I don't know why."

I frowned, "He didn't talk to you about it?"

Bran shook his head, "He always had me watch. But…there were moments I was cut out, and he was in control."

There was something that was bothering him.

"What is it?"

Bran tried to find his words, "My last vision of the past…was with my father during Robert's Rebellion. He was in Dorne, at the Tower of Joy, fighting against Ser Arthur Dayne with Hollard Reed and another Kingsguard. What I saw was not what my father told me."

"Sometimes the victors tell their stories," I said.

Bran nodded, "He went inside, calling out for my Aunt Lyanna."

I recalled Sansa mentioning their Aunt Lyanna died in a bed of her blood.

"I saw her in a bed of her own blood, pleading to my father to promise her something," he continued. "She then whispered something in his ear. When her handmaiden came over, everything went dark." Frustration filled him. "The Raven talked to someone about it. Something about sand and snow."

"Sand and snow?" I repeated.

Bran nodded, and Summer placed his head on the adolescent's lap to ease him. Bran sighed, petting the top of Summer's head. I sighed, not sure if I should tell him about his responsibility or set it aside. But seeing how he is, he needed a distraction.

"I should tell you, with the Three-Eyed Raven spirit gone from you, it does not leave the responsibility," I said.

Bran looked at me, confused.

"You're no longer a Warg, Bran," I told him. "You're a greenseer now. The first since the last greenseer."

"Weren't you and Bloodraven one?" he asked.

I shook my head, "Bloodraven had greensight, but he was not a greenseer of the First Men. The moment he lost his eye, his power awakened from Dragon Dreams. The Raven gave him his warging abilities, though limited to crows, ravens, and singular animals."

"And you?" he asked.

"I am a warg from a strong bloodline of wargs," I answered. "The Raven gave me greensight, yet it held a consequence. I needed the Raven or a weirwood tree to guide me. For I did not have any, my body would betray me with seizures."

"Jojen had seizures," Bran murmured in sorrow.

I sighed, "Greensight is a gift and a curse. But you must suffer the consequences if you are not a greenseer."

Bran heaved a heavy sigh.

"When you are ready, go to the Heart Tree, and the gods can help you with the vision that you seek," I advised.

"I don't know if I can do this alone," Bran murmured. "The Raven pushed everyone away. Jojen, the Children of the Forest, Hodor…they've died because of me. And Meera…he made me say things…."

I knelt to his level, "After this war, you can make amends. And if we survive this, I'll help you."

Bran gave a small smile, "I would appreciate that."

I nodded, "Did the Children mark you?"

Bran paused and nodded, "Leaf put the mark of protection on Hodor, Meera, and I. When the Free Folk came, Boudica had placed the mark on my siblings."

I sighed in relief, knowing the Starks were protected.

"There's more, isn't there?" he asked.

I nodded, "You and I, we will have to face the Night King in the Godswood with Daenerys. The direwolf, the Raven, and the Dragon. Tomorrow, you and I will practice, for I need you to have a clear mind and not be afraid."

Bran nodded again, "What are we going to do?"

"You and I will have to warg into the Night King and place his soul back," I said.

Bran's eyes widened.

"Your job is to keep us grounded," I told him. "I will handle the rest."

Bran took this in and nodded.

"We will practice tomorrow," I told him. "Do not stay up too late."

Bran nodded.

I smiled slightly to assure him everything would be alright. I petted Summer's head before standing up and walking around to see how the preparations were going. Many of the women were busy making spikes and arrows. There was a soup kitchen, and food was being passed around for the civilians. There were so many people.

"Sam!" someone called out. "Sam, don't run."

A little toddler was running through the hectic area. A woman chased after him. Skadi and Ghost moved aside, trying to avoid stepping on the child. An internal instinct took over as I stepped in, picking the child up to help the mother. The boy gave a startled cry, looking at me. He looked familiar, with blond hair and blue eyes. Then I realized who I was holding.

"Little Sam!" I praised.

The woman came over, panting, trying to catch her breath. "Thank you."

When she stood up, correcting herself, my eyes widened, "Gilly?"

Gilly's eyes widened as she smiled, "Imogen."

I struggled with words, for it has been a year, if not more, since I last saw her. "H…how…You, Little Sam…and Samwell…you're supposed to be in Old Town."

"We came to help," Gilly said.

"Why?" I asked. "You three would've been safe in the Reach?"

Gilly gave a sad smile as she took Little Sam from me, "It did not feel right to stay there while our friends fought in the war. We have been here for a month now."

"Month?" I repeated. "Where's Sam? Is he back at Castle Black?"

Gilly shook her head, "No, he's here somewhere."

I frowned at this, for Jon and I had been back for a week. I tried to grasp why Sam would be avoiding us. I stared at Gilly and Little Sam, seeing how much they had changed until I spotted another change in Gilly: her belly was swollen.

"Gilly," I murmured.

Gilly couldn't help but grin.

"Gilly," I repeated.

"We did more than just read at The Citadel," she answered the silent question.

I wanted to be happy for Gilly; she finally had Sam's child. However, a part of me wished they had waited until after the Great War or stayed at The Citadel. My attention turned to Little Sam, no longer a babe. A toddler, maybe three years old now. Sired from the worst of men and raised by a man who would do anything for this boy. I cradle the boy's cheek, and he leans into it. It brought back those little desires of children with dark hair and grey eyes. Something I may not have.

There is more I need to ask when my name is being called, "Imogen!"

I turned around to face Fenrir with Aiden and Ethan.

I sighed and looked at Gilly, saying, "We are not done with this conversation."

Gilly chuckled as she nodded. I gently patted Little Sam before making my way to Fenrir. He has a serious look.

"What is it?" I asked.

"We need Skadi and you; we are going to patrol the Wolfswood," Fenrir answered.

I nodded as we made our way out of Winterfell. Aiden got on Valko with Fenrir, while Ethan joined me on Skadi. With nothing to say, Dires, with their direwolves and shadowcats, started their patrol to ensure the wolfswood was secured and lay more traps for the wights.

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