Greetings Everyone! I hope that you all had a fantastic holiday season, and a good start to the new year. I will keep this A/N short. This is clearly a newer idea for those of you that are already following me. If you are just finding me for the first time, if it please you, give my other works a look. Before beginning this new story in earnest, I need to give a big shout out to Ideas-Guy here on for writing A Golden Path. I had been mentally toying with the idea of doing my own Dune/GOT/ASOIAF crossover, and reading his gave me the courage to take the plunge with my own attempt that will be decidedly different from theirs. That being said, be sure to give that story a look as well.
First and ONLY Disclaimer:
I don't have any rights, or ownership to anything having to do with the Dune or GOT/ASOIAF media.
I am simply playing in the proverbial sandbox.
The only thing I have any creative ownership over, is the concepts of my OC characters, and the framing of how this story will play out.
With that, Let's jump right into it. Look to the bottom for a longer A/N if you care too.
"Hope clouds observation."
"This life is over for you now. You shall awaken again, in a new place and time. One you are slightly familiar with. You shall be reborn stronger, stronger than you have ever been before. Perhaps you will finally be able to push this doomed version of humanity towards something better. Best of luck to you… Kwisatz Haderach. Ensure that you rise. Rise high. Remember: you must not fear. Let us see how you will change the face of Planetos. Whether for good or ill, I will leave up to you now."
Those were the words that had been echoing in his head for some time now at intervals, as he traversed the area.
The last thing that had truly clung to his mind from before, was that he'd just laid down to bed…and then just as he had felt he was losing consciousness; the jolt of pain had assaulted his senses.
He wouldn't necessarily label what had happened afterwards as being awake, but it hadn't been like he was truly asleep either, and that state of affairs had been maddening to him.
He couldn't say how long he'd felt that way, but it had carried on for a long enough period that he could remember the edges of his temper beginning to fray.
And then, just as quickly as he'd come upon those thoughts things changed.
He'd come to clothed, wrapped in unfamiliar layers of dark gray and black.
A long and tattered but hooded cloak, a thick and warm fur covered kind of jacket or shirt of some kind, with a matching set of pants.
All of it looked well enough put together, if not just a bit on the extremely primitive side.
'As if I were aiming for a Barbarian cosplay for someone from a frozen wasteland.'
And what a wasteland it was…
The only thing that was out of place truly for his outfit, was the boots. Black of leather, relatively light while not at all shiny, and yet they fit him perfectly, though they were scuffed and almost stained white or gray at the edges from use.
'Almost like I've been trekking through a clay or salt deposit…'
The state of his body had become the first thing that he'd turned his mind upon as he had sat up from the fully laying position he'd been in, a cold blast of wind causing him to shudder slightly; even dressed as he was.
His hood had been thrown up in an instant to ward off the cold, and before he could even consider they why, he was moving; as fast as his body could carry him.
In that moment he had felt lighter than he could remember feeling before the moments that had led to him being in this new place, moving along.
Movement had become the state of his very being since he'd awakened here.
He could say unequivocally that he knew exactly where he was.
How? Quite simply.
The voice, wherever it had come from, who or whatever it had belonged too; hadn't been lying.
How does one describe what it is to achieve Prescience when they had been an average everyday kind of person just beforehand?
All he knew from the moment he'd woken, was that his sight, his vision had been expanded.
His very mind had been altered and expanded to handle the change.
It was terrifying…and yet amazing.
And he knew for a fact that it was the only thing keeping him alive.
The kind of information he now possessed, the sheer volume of it was absolutely paralyzing in a way that he couldn't describe.
So much to take in, so much to work on…it should have been daunting.
And yet, he knew with haunting clarity what he needed to do and had nothing in him but a burning desire to see it done.
He knew exactly what he needed to do, and where exactly he needed to go.
So, he did.
To travel through the Frostfangs was to court death for most, especially when one was unequipped.
Thankfully, his new sight had granted him the quickest path to changing his fortunes on that front.
How long he had jogged for he couldn't say, as he'd taken breaks in between his movement to conserve as much energy as possible; even though he barely felt winded.
'As expected, considering I'm now sixteen again…six and ten...whatever...'
Knowing that he'd been de-aged was just another thing to tackle in regard to this entire situation.
And yet, that was small potatoes in comparison to everything else.
It's strange to understand that back in his previous life he'd "Died."
Not a true death mind, as he had been at home, and the hospital had been called; a paramedic team coming in and successfully resuscitating him before true death could set in.
But this process had been the thing that had essentially, for lack of a better word, 'cloned' his soul.
His new sight couldn't tell him who or what had facilitated this however…
'Can't, or most likely won't, and I'm left to wonder which is the more disturbing concept.'
And yet it mattered little in the end.
Surprisingly, all of that information was somehow helping to fast track him through the stages of grief; each thought being run over by the sheer knowledge that he now possessed.
Was it something that he was relatively sure he'd revisit at times over his new life, if he was able to successfully follow through on things as he could see them?
Probably, but that was something that he'd deal with if and when it came up.
These thoughts and dealing with moving in real time while seeing mentally where he needed to go helped pass the time, and obvious miles he needed to travel, before he inevitably reached his destination.
The first checkpoint was a large, felled tree, something almost reminiscent of a redwood from back home.
It's large and darkly barked form was knocked over and stretching across what he knew to be the Milkwater river and wasting no time, he jumped on top of the tree and ran across it to the other side; the raging white rapid river moving beneath him.
It took him to what he'd equate mentally to maybe an hour before he found what his vision had showed him to find.
The man was leaning against another tree that was similar to the one that had bridged the Milkwater, though this one was clearly much younger as the size was not as considerable; and this one remained standing proud and tall as it reached to the overcast sky above.
His dark hair that was streaked with gray was long enough that it stretched behind him to probably touch the middle of his back, while it also draped across the sides of his face, intermingling with his long dark facial hair that was also showing signs of graying.
The man's nose had a clear crack running through the middle of it, blood pooling around it and down his mouth onto his chin.
Raising his hands up palms facing out, the young man walked slowly around to the outside so that he could be seen by the downed man; one of the Thenn's.
The downed man's fur vestments were of a decent enough quality, though blood was seeping down the front right-hand side of it from the middle of his ribs, where four long white wooded arrows sat lodged, looking very uncomfortable.
The Thenn also had on a pair of greaves which sat just above his shoes going up to right below his knees, and surprisingly a matching pair of bracers that extended from wrist to up to almost right below the elbow; both of the sets notably made of bronze.
Though slightly disjointed looking in their make, they were also adorned with carved runic marked paths, making an almost whirlpool looking design that crossed up and down each piece.
As the young man slowly approached the downed Wildling, the Thenn tried to raise his right hand, which clutched a decoratively carved White Weirwood longbow; a homemade quiver of arrows sitting on the man's left side in the snow next to his limp hand.
The man's hand however, barely got a few inches up before falling back into the snow, a small huff of tired frustration leaving the man as he dropped the bow into the snow.
"You're dying my friend."
It was bold to presume such a thing, but he knew what he needed to do, and if he could do so successfully, then he'd have quite the few boons going forward from here.
The Thenn's light hazel eyes locked with his own, and for a moment the clearly large man remained silent, before collecting the gathered phlegm and blood into his mouth to spit out a bit in his general direction.
"We're no friends, you fuckin Crow."
Pressing onward, the young man spoke again.
"Not a Crow my friend, just someone who was taken from their life and left here in this new and clearly unforgiving place."
The large Thenn looked at him weakly for a moment before snorting loudly.
"So, a freed man then. What, the fuckin slavers tried to take you, and you slipped your way away? I'd applaud you, but it was stupid of you to free yourself here of all places."
"Yes. Took the closest free clothes I could find. We don't get to choose what opportunities we're given, just what we do with them."
His quick repose to the question seemed to sober the man.
"I'm- "
"Bramun, I know. That's why I'm here my friend."
The now identified Thenn, Bramun, looked at him skeptically for a moment before boggling a bit, before a light but pained chuckle escaped him.
"You're like the wise women then? Touched by the Old Gods?"
He could only nod slightly in response to the man's question.
"Yes. I can see. That's why I came."
A few moments trickled by, before Bramun deigned to speak again, his breathing taking on a more labored tone.
"Well, then the Old Gods are finally smiling on me, sending a friend. My knife is right here. Do me the favor of making it clean, will you? I'm not interested in lingering here like this any longer."
The request could only receive another nod, and the young man tentatively moved forward, before kneeling next to the dying man; the breeze slightly picking up around them as the snow continued to fall at a sedate pace.
As he settled in next to the man, he took the knife into his hands, it also being like the armor the Thenn bore; forged of bronze.
As he brought the knife up to attempt to inspect the edge, the Thenn's left hand finally moved, with surprising speed though clearly lacking in strength as it caught around the young man's right wrist; albeit limply.
"I'd know the name of the man who's about to send me to me Ma... to my forefathers."
He looked the man in the eyes and spoke the words that he'd been thinking to himself ever since getting his head right and beginning his trek out into this new world.
This new inescapable life of his.
"Alec. Alec Atreides."
Another moment passed, and Bramun's strength started to dip lower, as his hand released Alec's wrist almost unwillingly of its own accord.
"A kneeler…and yet the closest thing to a friend I have around for miles. Listen to my words now, because they'll save your life hmm?"
Alec nodded at the man as he used the technique he'd learned to safely check the bronze blades edge; the dagger reminding him of a skinnier version of a Dwarven Dagger from the game Skyrim back home; though the width of the blade was skinnier while the blade was more decorative as it had some of the same kind of runic markings carved into the face of the blade as the dying man's armor.
"This is the North boy. The True North. It's cold here. Not just in the air. Do you understand? You…you have a heart; I can see it. In those eyes of yours... You'll have to kill it… if you want to survive here. The Fist of the First Men is not far, but the fuckers who did this to me may still be close by. I killed a few of their men, though it may be just a matter of time till they find here. I'm not gifting you my things, you understand? I know the way of this world, so consider this a payment. Make my death quick and make it clean. After that…you may want to run. Run as though your very life is at stake, for it is. It's that, or fight. There'll be no other choice."
Alec nodded at the man's words.
"I promise you. I'll honor your memory. I'll care for your things, and when I find the ones who ambushed you; they'll die. I swear it to you by the Old Gods."
His words drew a surprised look from Bramun, as the larger man clearly wasn't expecting such an offer, though a moment later he smirked a bit.
"I hope you keep to those words boy. The Old Gods aren't kind to those who go back on em."
Alec nodded, as he brought his left hand up to settle at the nape of the man's neck; slightly pulling him up and forward off of the tree.
Closing his eyes for a moment, Alec took a deep breath and focused, before speaking in the Old Tongue to Bramun.
"May the Old God's and your ancestors embrace you on the other side."
This time, true shock settled over Bramun's face, before the smirk became a small but true smile.
"Thank you…friend."
Alec didn't hesitate.
His right hand came up, and the sharp bronze blade pierced up under through the Thenn's bottom half of his jaw, all the way up into the bottom of his skull and into his brain.
His body went slack immediately.
After pulling the knife out, Alec had to lean back and away, as bile attempted to force its way up his throat.
'Just because I can see it beforehand, doesn't mean it's any easier.'
He began to take slow but measured breathes in through his nose, before slowly exhaling them back out through his mouth, focusing his mind.
He did this for a few seconds before speaking softly to himself out loud as he began to rummage on Bramun's body.
"I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer…"
The leather wraps that worked as the sheathe for Bramun's…now Alec's knife, were taken first and quickly set around his waist.
The quiver was taken up next, as well as the Weirwood bow, and after a moment of hesitation Alec began to lightly pull upon the arrows that were in the fallen Thenn's body; bringing his arrow count up to sixteen total.
After strapping the quiver to his back, and wrapping the bow around himself securely as he could look back and see how Bramun had done so; Alec then methodically undid and then applied the bronze armor pieces to his own person.
The last thing of note to take from the fallen Thenn was an empty water skin, and that too was taken, finding itself a secure place amongst the leather wraps that were now secure around his midsection.
After that Alec oriented himself behind Bramun's body, his hands slipping underneath his arms by the armpits, so that he could drag the man's body.
Bramun was clearly a bit larger than his current self, but Alec cared not about the energy he'd have to expend to do what came next; because he had already seen what was coming.
He couldn't put a label on how long it took him, but he dragged his dead benefactor, back towards the Milkwater; stopping short before the rushing river.
Enough time had passed by then, so Alec crossed the man's arms over his chest, and then closed his eyes in a show of respect.
"May you find rest in the embrace of the Old Gods. I give you to the water, in the effort to keep any here from ravaging your body. I'd have dug you a grave…but unfortunately, I just don't have the tools or the time. I hope that you can forgive me for that my friend. I'll see you again, I think. But not too soon."
Reasserting his grab onto the Thenn's furs by around the back near the man's neck so as to leave his crossed arms unbothered, Alec dragged the body into the very beginning of the rushing rapids of the Milkwater enough so that he barely got his own boots wet; before he oriented the corpse more onto its side.
After a moment of adjustment, Alec stood back, and watched as the rapids were beginning to slightly pick up as the wind did, and as that occurred the body began to slowly and continuously shift in the loose dirt and gravel; moving further into the water as the river began to take it into itself with the raging current.
It took only a few moments before the body slowly disappeared beneath the surface of the churning waters, as the river rushed even further towards its destination; where Alec knew it would eventually deposit the body into the Bay of Ice.
A quick silent moment passed before Alec shook himself out of his best approximation for a funeral right. He quickly dropped to his knees and pulled out the empty water skin, filling it almost the whole way before bringing it up and downing a few mouthfuls of the brisk water.
He had never tasted water this cold before as it chilled his entire being, nor could he remember tasting water this clean before, and it was an altogether interesting experience.
After taking another moment to fully fill the skin and reset it in its place at the back of his makeshift belt he now wore, he steeled himself before he turned back around; and quickly sprinted towards one of the larger of the few scattered trees in this area to stand at it in a side stance.
Alec knew that he was slightly north of the Skirling Pass, the edge of the Milkwaters second branch being a few miles ahead of him even further north, where he'd inevitably have to cross so that he could head in the direction of the Fist of the First Men which was slightly more to the northeast.
'But first…'
A few delicate moments passed in relative silence.
Slowly but surely though the sound of lightly approaching steps on the snow-covered ground crunched at irregular intervals, and Alec took a deep but shallow breath; before holding it while closing his eyes as he then quickly pulled his dagger from its housing in his belt.
"Any eyes on em?"
The voice was scratchy, reminiscent of someone that suffered from a smoker's cough back home.
Holding his current breath, he saw it.
Stepping out from behind the large tree, he quickly lunged forward.
A left straight connected with the face of a small, dark scraggly haired man with a pox ridden visage.
His body quickly fell to the snow as moaned in pain, but Alec's momentum carried him forward.
With a quick flick of his wrist the knife was now in a reverse grip, and his right hand arced up, lancing out with the slightly gleaming blade as it quickly pierced into the middle of the throat of a woman with light blonde hair of average height with a dirt smudged face that had been right next to the first man; bright gleaming green eyes shining in pain and surprise at him and his move.
Quickly recoiling, dislodging the blade and spinning it back into a standard grip as he moved, an arrow flew between his head and the now falling and gurgling one of the blonde female Wildling he'd just felled.
A second arrow had already been in flight as he pressed forward a bit, but he dodged slightly to his right a step, his left hand arcing up just to about mid chest for himself as he was slightly turned to the side; nimbly catching the shaft between his fingers before deftly snapping the arrow in his grip.
The action had taken two seconds…and the result of it caught the others of the hunting group completely flat-footed as they all stared in astonishment.
Alec sprinted at the nearest one, and the bald dark bearded man who towered over him didn't react until he was within three feet of him.
Too late.
An axe/hammer made of stone and what was clearly a large and shaved branch of a tree went up and then summarily came down from the left, a war cry howling out as the man's visage twisted with rage, which resulted in Alec spinning on the bottom of his right heel while in the middle of his movement; which rendered the swing moot.
The spin put Alec within a foot of distance to the large man, and Alec's left hand lanced out, grabbing onto the overextended left appendage of the Wildling, as the man's hands were still tightly wrapped around the shaft of the makeshift hammer.
Pulling himself forward while pulling with all his might against the larger man Alec spit right into the man's left eye, before sending his armed hand forward to plunge the bronze blade forward and up into the man's guts all the way to the hilt.
He quickly jumped back, dislodging his blade to a strangled gurgle of mixed agony and anger as a retaliatory head-butt came down on him.
Unfortunately for the bigger man, Alec still had purchase on his left forearm, and once again his blade plunged forward with apathy; this time through the man's right eye.
An arrow had been flying towards his person again, and he ducked slightly with the momentum of the falling body, before underhandedly flinging his knife in an arc after withdrawing it from the larger man's face.
Alec's hand reached out and pulled a crude stone made blade from the large man's fallen corpse, before he quickly darted towards the next person who was on his left, another woman, who seemed the smartest of the bunch as the light red-headed woman with a pinched face looked ready to bolt.
She did just as such, though again it was too late.
Alec was already upon her.
His left hand gripped down on her left shoulder like a vice, spinning her back around as he arrested her attempt at forward momentum.
The woman was a Wildling through and through, as upon being turned she swung to punch out at Alec.
She'd miscalculated in her fear and attempt at flight, as the stone blade crashed into the hand she'd thrown out.
It left Alec wondering why most of them hadn't even had their clear stone made weapons in hand.
'The numbers and knowing that their pray was already wounded made them complacent.'
The pitched shriek that left the woman's mouth over her wounded hand didn't last, as a right cross knocked her to the ground.
Turning back to the archer, a lanky little man with mismatched eyes and a dark-haired head full of braids, Alec once again sprinted straight at his opponent; the man in the midst of trying to restring his bow.
Upon hearing his approaching quick steps, the man abandoned his own bow in an attempt to draw a primitive rock made blade of his own to wield at Alec.
A lunging front kick stopped the man cold, as it put him on his back in the snow.
Backing up a step, Alec regained speed and moved forward to kick the man under the chin as he was attempting to sit up; a sickening crack ringing out into the air.
Time resumed to its normal speed for Alec, and he found himself quickly having to reorient himself.
He marched forward two paces, grabbing his bronze blade as it lay in the building snow next to the downed and unconscious man that he'd field goal kicked in the face.
A quick take to his left knee, and Alec was then plunging his blade into the center of the chest of the man next, before getting back to his feet and moving to the woman who's hand he'd ruined.
She was already back pedaling on the ground, moaning and whining at the pain as it mixed with her mounting fear.
"If you think I'll just let you steal me- "
Two final quick steps brought Alec within a foot range of her, and he simply arced out at a downward angle with his blade.
The tip of the bronze dagger was sharp, and the speed and arc of his swing were true and made sure that the weapon cleaved cleanly through the front of the woman's neck; sending a cascade of blood down the front of her mixed colored furs as she began to gurgle in desperation while her hands reached up in shock as she stared at him with pain ridden eyes.
Alec brought his gaze back to the first man he'd punched, still laying in the snow face down.
He wasted no time walking quickly forward, to jam his knife into the back of the man, before he brutally twisted the blade once deeply, pulling it from the left under the one shoulder blade all the way to the other side.
He had met some resistance but had used a sawing motion to sever through the man's spine, ensuring that the job was done.
…
As the adrenaline began to fade, Alec stood up and walked a few paces away to then bend over and dry heave a few times; shuddering pain wracking his body as he let the sick feeling pass him by.
He could barely accept all that was happening, all that he'd already done.
'If not for this new perception…I may very well have passed out by now.'
After taking a few precious moments to gather his fortitude, Alec began the process of going over the fresh corpses.
Each of them simply bore mixed colored furs, none of the bronze armor or implements that Bramun had had.
'Though that doesn't mean this is for naught.'
Quickly taking two of the makeshift stone blades and securing them at his sides, Alec then took a moment to ensure that the bronze blade was secure across his lower back horizontally; with slip of leather that he took from one of the men.
The only other things of worth were the five arrows and the string that the archer had had on his person, along with the makeshift hammer that the largest of the group had had.
Other than that, all that was left was some dried cold meat on one of the men, which thankfully Alec knew was not from a human; but from a large stag that this group had hunted a day ago.
Was it difficult to eat it? Yes, as it had been dried out. But he did so greedily, after gathering up the effects that he'd be taking away from this skirmish.
After drinking down some water, Alec sat back on his ankles for a moment in the snow; focusing on his breathing as he allowed the breeze to caress his face.
"Fear, is the little death that brings obliteration. I'll face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me…"
A series of deep breaths and repetitions of the Litany against Fear later, and Alec was ready to get up and moving again.
The group he'd just dealt with had only been a part of the sect that had seen to the end of Bramun…
'The only reason they took him on was because they ambushed him and his. They didn't even honor the old way…'
The thought of it galled Alec.
So he set forth and towards the Fist of the First Men.
Scant an hour went by, and then the rolling snow covered and rocky hills and barely assorted tree covered landscape shifted; his destination easily coming into view due to its sheer size.
The second branch of the Milkwater was before him as he neared towards the fork of it that would normally show that he'd be led further north towards the area of the Frostfangs, and then the Thenn's if he went left.
Looming even further forward before Alec in the distance behind a larger outcropping of trees was the Fist.
Alec knew that the ruins of a Ringfort sat atop the Fist, the place being considered almost sacred to most of the Freefolk.
'One hell of a defensible position first and foremost.' Alec thought as he took in the outward look of the landscape, before closing his eyes to focus for a few moments.
After letting out a light breath, he took a deeper one before continuing his trudge forward.
About an hour or so passed at the pace he was setting, knowing what was coming, before he came upon another makeshift bridge; though this one was made by a grouping of three smaller trees that were next to each other to allow crossing over this next branch of the Milkwater.
Alec leaned down and gently set his hand atop the rushing water for a moment as he approached the bridge, doing his best to ignore the cold of it against his skin.
He spoke lowly into the wind as it lightly brushed over him as the waters rush continued beneath him.
"Watch over me. Give your blessings, and I'll see it done. I promise Bramun."
Wiping the inside of his hand off on his right pants leg, Alec took up the large stone hammer and made his way across the made makeshift tree bridge, bringing himself even closer to his destination.
Time passed at what felt like a snail's pace for him, as he continued forward, the trees becoming slightly denser in population as he went along.
Until finally he reached his goal.
The Fist was clearly still within sight due to its sheer size, but that wasn't what he'd been looking for.
Thirty to forty paces before him was a camp in a slightly more open clearing.
Two small dark haired, fur wrapped children were playing directly within his line of sight outside the front of what looked to be a small fur made tent city.
At least a dozen or so of them were before him, and Alec once again drew in a breath to calm and steady his nerves before he moved forward.
After moving up a bit, Alec could see more and more people as they moved about.
Some working on pieces of wood, most probably fashioning arrows.
Some working over logs, splitting them into firewood.
Some of them even in the midst of either skinning fresh game that had been caught, or even cleaning fish on top of other wooden stumps.
Roughshod tables made of assembled branches existed, though there were only a couple of them.
A large bonfire was roaring, and a large wooden spit was a couple of feet away from it; clearly being prepared so that the large stag or elk carcass that was being cleaned and stripped by a couple of women could be cooked.
A couple other children joined the young boy and girl that were looking at rocks behind the one tent, the brother and sister now being joined by another four children: all of them just around ten name-days old.
A dirty blonde-haired boy with light sky-blue eyes was the one to finally notice him.
"CROW! CROW!"
Quickly Alec placed his left hand up palm facing as he held the heft of the makeshift hammer in his right down next to his thigh, the child's high-pitched call bringing forth a cacophony of activity as an entire swath of bodies began to file out to bear witness to his arrival.
'This is going to be interesting.'
Dradol's POV:
At seven and twenty, Dradol was a content man.
His hair was long and light brown, with an assortment of turned and taut braids in it at intervals; small shiny stones intermingled and tied in it at places.
His face bore the ash paint runes of his family, crescents sitting above the runes that dusted his cheeks, framing his dark eyes.
His darker furs marked him as the leader of his small and budding clan, the Direwolf head hood of his cloak giving him a frightening visage when it was drawn up and over his skull.
He wasn't the tallest of men, topping out at around six feet high, though his body had tightly corded muscles that displayed when he was nude.
He wasn't as large as some of the others among the Freefolk, but he liked to think that his mind set him apart from the rest of them.
His Da had been an unambitious cunt, and Dradol had made a deal with his second and milk brother Vorold.
Vorold would be the one to kill his Da, so that Dradol could avoid the curses and sight of the Old Gods.
In return, Dradol would turn a blind eye to the man's proclivities as they took over the clan.
It had been a great deal.
Dradol had been leading their group for nigh on three years now, and they had just finally gained over 100 stone worth of bodies for the cause.
A hundred and twenty may not appear like much at first glance…
But when one focused those bodies all to a single goal, things got done.
Dradol had plans, grand ones.
Freefolk all knew the tales, all of them knowing the way of things.
King's Beyond the Wall had come throughout their history as a people as a whole…though few had ever done anything of real note.
'Let alone have they succeeded. I aim to change it. I'll be remembered forever. They'll speak of me hundreds of years from now.' Dradol thought with derision as he stood up from his bed of furs, lightly slapping the young blonde girl in his bed on her bare ass cheek before beginning to dawn his traveling furs.
Dradol had told Vorold of his ambitions.
To become the new King Beyond the Wall, to unite the clans, to finally see them set free of this horrifically cold wasteland.
They had resources sure, though it was not enough most of the time, not enough to truly thrive.
'Unless one is content to live off of fish alone for most meals. But no more of it. Given time, we'll make our way down with a strong army, take the Crow's where they live. It'll be glorious. Once we make our way through them, we'll show the kneelers what true strength is.'
Land based game wasn't necessarily scarce, but to get an abundance of it required not only skill, but a smattering of luck too.
Luck enough to find said game.
Luck enough to make the shot without a winters wind throwing it off, to only leave one with an empty belly.
Luck enough… to not have a predator nearby that would either steal the kill, or worse, steal your very life.
Shadowcats, Direwolves, Snow Bears…each and every one a plenty out in the vastness of the True North.
'And they always seem to be halting our chances at a real meal, halting our chances at giving the lads enough food to grow strong…'
Dradol may wear the fur and skin of one of the predators as a cloak, but he hadn't made that kill himself truth be told.
The proud beast had been in battle as a lone one, against a large Shadowcat, and had taken a life ending wound.
Dradol had scored a lucky shot with his bow into the Shadowcat's left eye, scaring the large feline predator away.
He had then waited for the Direwolf to pass before bringing the body back to the camp, to steal away its pelt for the cloak he now wore.
That was what set Dradol apart from many of the other Freefolk.
He used his mind.
He may not be the strongest, and he may not even be a grand warrior worthy of song, but he knew how to turn a situation to his favor.
His mind was the greatest weapon, and he'd used it to not only gather likeminded others to his cause to eventually begin uniting the clans while getting a lot of grunt work done, but he'd used it to seduce his way into having many a girl in his bed furs.
Oh sure, it was still stealing in the end, but in the end if the woman truly welcomed it; then who was he to deny a bitch?
He had just finished getting his furs on before he kicked the young blonde out of his tent, so that he could walk to join Vorold as he stood by the fire where their spit would soon roast up a hefty stag that a group of their hunters had taken down.
His stone war axes hung on either hip, while he kept his newest prize in a newly made half sheathe on his back, a wickedly double-edged bronze sword that he'd claimed off of one of the Thenn's.
If Dradol focused hard enough, he thought he'd hear not only the small hunting party of Thenn's that had cursed him as he and a group of his had ambushed them, but his Da's recriminating voice at the actions they'd taken.
Growing up, Dradol's Da had always impressed upon him that the Thenn's were blessed by the Old Gods, a newer coming of gods amongst men that would one day change things.
That was why they had paid tribute to the Thenn's when they could.
That was why they had given them deference for some time.
Because it was what they were owed, and because it would hopefully buy favor for them in the future…
'And yet not once in all my life did they ever lift a finger to do anything for me or mine.' Dradol thought, with a wicked smirk as he remembered the taking of the small Thenn group.
They'd ambushed their hunting party in the earlier hours of the morning, the moons light being particularly bright even as it was beginning to fade away to eventually give wake to the new day.
Only one had seemed to escape them into the vastness of the lands of the north, though Dradol had known that the man was terribly injured, and as such would not make it far.
Coming up on Vorold's left, Dradol clapped him on the shoulder while looking into the crackling flames before them.
"How are you this day?"
Vorold was of a similar height with Dradol, though he was just a bit shorter, though far more thickly built.
His bald head was almost completely black, covered in a coating of ash, that came down to wrap around his tiny set light blue eyes, the rings covering them making it appear as if the man were wearing some kind of mask.
His long thick beard was much like Dradol's hair, tied in braids at places, and bearing some small shiny stones inset at intervals into the braids.
The two of them had devised this to show that they were of the highest standing within the clan, and it worked well. Everyone gave them the respect they deserved.
Vorold's hands were set atop the head of his double-edged stone made axe, as he stared at the flickering flames.
"The new boy was a squealer."
The words were muttered in an almost guttural way, barely being that of a whisper.
One would think that the man was trying to hide his proclivities of buggering young boys…
But that was far from the truth.
Vorold's own Ma had tried to cut his throat when they'd both been two and ten, having hated Vorold from the moment he'd been born as she resented that she'd been stolen by his Da.
Vorold was a tough bastard though and had simply refused to die. He'd made his Ma pay for that transgression.
However, the damage had been done.
Vorold wasn't a mute, far from it.
But one tended to have to struggle to hear him if there were many voices speaking at once, or even if someone else was speaking loudly.
Dradol had to try to contain the shiver that nearly ripped through him at the way his friend gave his response.
In truth, Dradol didn't understand the man.
'Why lay with men, when we were clearly fashioned to lay with the women?'
He didn't intend to ask after the man about it, and though he didn't know what to say in response he did plan to speak, though words were failing him at that particular moment.
He was halted from anything further however, when the voice of one of the many younglings sounded out into the air.
"CROW! CROW!"
That word alone set Dradol's spine stiff, and with a quick nod both he and Vorold turned and quickly jogged towards where the rest of their people were now gathering.
Approaching the mass of his clan, Dradol pushed his way through the assembling bodies to the forefront, to take in the appearance of the man before them.
'Or more like a boy, if his face is anything to go by…'
Dark of hair that hung halfway around his head, and already of a height with himself and Vorold.
The face was young, and while that alone would have been striking enough, or even the fact that the outfit he wore was reminiscent of a Crow's; that wasn't what caught Dradol's attention.
'Those eyes…'
Dradol had seen many a pair of blue eyes throughout his years, as there were many kinds of them amongst the Freefolk.
But this pair…was something else to behold.
The eyes that locked with his own were of an almost deep kind of blue, and yet their brightness was what set them apart from being something truly dark.
The most off-putting part of it being, that Dradol could swear from the paces of distance separating him and the stranger, that the whites of his eyes even shone a light blue in the light of the sun as it began to beam down right on top of them from behind the pitched clouds in the sky.
Dradol stiffened himself and lightly patted the back of his right hand against Vorold's chest, gesturing with a slight nod forward, before taking steps past his sea of people.
He stopped with Vorold at his right side about nine paces or thereabouts from the man, nodding upwards at him due to his lack of action.
"What is it you want, Crow?"
"I'm not a Crow."
The speed of the reply was something that set Vorold on edge, his friend taking it as a challenge, though Dradol brought his right arm up across his friend's body as a way to make him not act.
He found himself curious about the youth standing before him…considering how much he carried on his person.
Most that ventured out into the wilds only went with what was necessary.
The one before him had a large rock made hammer, a bow, and what looked to be a gathering of stone made blades upon his person.
'Is he fleeing something? Looking for something? A fight mayhap? Or mayhap he wants to join our ranks?'
The questions were abundant, so Dradol pressed on.
"Crow or not, what are you doing here?"
"I'm here for you, Dradol. I call down challenge. Here and now, you and I. One will be left alive and the leader of this clan. The others blood will water the dirt beneath when it's through."
…
The entirety of the statement gave him pause.
How did this strange young man know of him? He didn't sound like he was from the north, and yet knew the customs? Once again, the questions were aplenty.
Had he left him alive in a previous raid somewhere, and this was now being done in revenge?
The face wasn't familiar, and more than anything the eyes were something Dradol was sure he'd never seen before.
Vorold was trying to press forward, lightly hissing outwardly at the man's words, and Dradol had to turn to actually push his left arm against his friend as he spoke lowly to him.
"Stop. Challenge has been invoked."
Vorold looked him dead in the eyes as he spoke back at him.
"Let me kill this pup here and now. Him challenging you like this is a disgrace. He comes with just himself? Thinks himself good enough to take control? Fuck that, and fuck him. Hell…maybe I'll leave him alive long enough to do just that."
Dradol knew that Vorold was a better fighter than him, and that the only reason that he hadn't taken the position as head of this clan in his stead was because Dradol had saved his life twice in their childhood.
"A blood debt is bad enough, but to owe one twice over shames me. I'll back you, no matter what. Your enemies are mine. From this day, until I'm in the dirt."
Many in the clan saw Vorold as a wretch of a living thing, and truthfully their fear over what he would do if dissent rose up was what kept most of them in check.
That, and that his own plans had at the very least garnered some results as time had passed on.
Dradol nodded subtly at his milk brother before turning back to face the man, now realizing that he'd not only dropped the hammer and bow with its accompanying quiver to the ground, but that the upper cloak had joined the rest on the ground before he'd taken a step forward.
A long bronze dagger was already in his right hand.
Dradol went to speak, but was cut off as the man brought the blade up, his arm across his chest and slightly facing out towards the sky, before he turned his arm up to bring the blade near the front of his forehead.
The man's words set a chill far greater than that of the winds up Dradol's spine.
"May thy knives chip and shatter."
Alec's POV:
His blade was already out.
He already knew what would happen, and that along with the fact that he knew the truth of the two men before him in front of the swath of others was what readily prepared him for what needed to be done now.
It didn't take but a moment of brief silence after his saluting words, before the bulkier of the two ran forward.
Alec stepped forward half a step on his right foot, his left hand coming up cobra quick onto the stone blade at his left hip.
The underhanded throw saw the blade sail at the running man, who was bringing his double headed stone made axe into the air.
He didn't even attempt to try and evade it, and Alec would give the man credit for his Dutch courage if nothing else.
The handle slammed into the man's face right above the bridge of his nose, right between his eyes; and that was when Alec was already in motion; at the point of that impact.
The man was still moving but was running blind for a second.
A wild swing of the axe came down straight down at the front of the man's path, as Alec did his best to stomp the last few feet to draw his opponent's attention, before lunging out to his right a bit, allowing the axe to fully come down and into the snow and mud as it missed him completely.
It sank slightly into the ground with a wet thud through the snow and mud underfoot, and the man made an almost inaudible grunt as he tried to pull his weapon from where it was lodged in the ground.
Alec was upon him a second later.
The man made a wild attempt at a backhand with his left as he was still trying to listen for Alec's position as his eyes barely flickered open at intervals.
The blow passed by in front of Alec's face, and with a light toss the bronze dagger landed in his left hand, while he pressed quickly forward.
Alec's right hand lanced forward and grabbed a hold of the man's left forearm as it sailed past him on the outset of the swing.
The bronze blade found purchase directly over the left-hand side of the man's chest, sinking all the way to the small guard above the handle.
The man's head came down lightly onto Alec's left collarbone with a thunk, as he had looked as though he'd been in the midst of getting ready to throw a head-butt at him, though the knife strike robbed him of that chance along with his life.
"RAAAGHH!"
The man Dradol, was already closing the three-foot distance, both of his stone war axes in hand.
Recoiling a step while pulling his blade from Vorold's chest cavity, Alec threw his left leg up and into the corpse kicking the now falling body into his new attacker's path.
Another quick double step back and slightly to the left kept Alec from winding up with the man almost directly on top of him as he toppled to the ground.
The dual war axes clattered to the floor out of the man's grasp as his face resolutely kissed the dirt with a harsh sounding crack.
Alec moved forward a step, placing most of his weight onto his left foot as he settled it on top of Dradol's right hand and wrist.
"AHHHHH!"
Alec quickly stabbed his blade into the ground on the left-hand side of Dradol's head, ceasing the man's movements and sound at the action.
The dagger was probably all in all, around fourteen inches long from the tip of the blade to the bottom of the pommel.
Alec's right hand wrapped around the slightly thicker handle of the bronze sword that was comfortably resting on Dradol's back.
The blade cleared the sheathe in a single pull, and Dradol still had yet to move from his position at Alec's feet as Alec switched grip hands.
'I think he may be barely breathing honestly…'
Alec leaned down quickly and took up his dagger in his right hand, while focusing lightly upon the new sword sitting in his left hand.
After a moment, he turned his gaze upon the assemblage of people from Dradol's clan.
"I spoke my intentions clearly. I declared challenge, as is a valid custom. Yet your Chief deigned to not only ignore said challenge, but he set a rabid dog upon me in turn. I ask you now. Is this the kind of man you wish to follow? One who is meant to lead you, and embody strength, yet he can't even accept a simple challenge in good faith?"
Slowly, voices began to sound out at his question, the responses though few that they were, coming back in denial of the man at Alec's feet.
"Is this the kind of person that you all believe will be the one to unite you? To take you into a better age for your clan? For all of the Freefolk?"
Alec raised his voice, locking eyes with the front row and even some of the members of the row standing behind that one, the action causing more and more voices to rise up in dissent against Dradol.
"For too long has this man, this weak man kept you all in line through fear. Fear of reprisal from his friend, whom he allowed to go about assaulting the young men of this clan. All in an attempt to instill fear and obedience on one hand, while trying to charm and then ease those hurts with a beguiling voice."
At that, some more voices raised up, a mixture of younger men, and some women too; all of them made victim by the dead man and soon to follow at his feet.
"I give you my word. Here and now, I swear it to you by the Old Gods. I will do all that I can to raise you all up. To give you better lives. I won't ask of you to do anything I wouldn't do myself, and in turn I hope that you will help me with this raising. So that we can hope to see the day where we, the Fremen, will no longer need to struggle as hard in this harsh land. The North belongs to us! But in order for us to thrive, some things will need to change. All I ask is that you give the chance to prove to you, that I can provide a better way."
Alec's words seemed to roll over the gathered crowd, and for a moment as the murmuring grew in pitch, he could feel the man beneath him attempting to rally to try and get his hand back out from underneath his foot.
A moment later, and the crowd parted a bit, as an older woman stepped forward.
She couldn't be taller than five feet, if that, with a slight hunch to her back.
Her hair was long and already mostly gray, two long and elaborate braids hanging at the front of her face.
Her deeply gray fur cloak was wrapped about her, and as she stepped closer, Alec could hear others speaking out "Mother Merna" and "The Wise Woman" as she closed the distance towards him.
She stopped a few feet from them, and her own light crystal blue eyes met his own.
"Long have I waited young one. Waited for the coming of those blue eyes from across the stars."
Her words stirred something in Alec's chest, but before he could take time to try and digest it, the older woman spoke again, her voice trembling with emotion.
"I stand behind you, Chief Atreides. I pray you'll see us safe and secure before the Long Night comes."
In that moment he couldn't find himself being anything other than grateful as murmurs began to break out amongst those in the front part of the crowd.
The woman before him was a Greenseer, and she had seen his coming.
While her sight may not be as powerful as his own may be, they had something tying them together.
In effect, she'd decided to throw her lot behind him, and he appreciated it.
'Two sets of eyes are always better than one after all. I'll need to see all that I can see to get this right.'
At that Alec once again raked his eyes across the full gathering, while the man beneath him began to try harder to get his hand free, to no avail.
"What say you all?"
…
It started slowly at first.
Only one or two voices seemed to be chanting out in his favor.
Only moments after that began did a few young boys of varying size and looks step forward.
Every last one of them consecutively spit upon Vorold's dead body, before raising a hand to their chest, beating it twice against their left breasts, now chanting out loudly to him, calling him Chief.
From there, it trickled down and out like a wave.
Soon, every single person assembled were barking out a single chant at intervals to signal that they would follow him.
Alec nodded once solidly as he brought his gaze up to a young boy with a shaved head, and dark green eyes, wrapped in mixed furs of gray.
"Vigold. Get me a block of wood."
The young boy's eyes opened wide at being addressed directly, before he quickly nodded and ran backwards into the camp; to only return moments later with one though he struggled to carry it.
At a signal from Alec, Vigold and three other boys made their way forward, each taking hold of a limb of Dradol's; before his head and neck sat just above the wooden block.
The man spat and cursed in anger at first, cursing them all, calling them traitors…
But shortly after that the man actually began to cry, began to beg to be sent into exile away from the clan rather than to face death.
Alec may have done the same in the man's position and yet couldn't muster any pity or sympathy for him.
"Your days are now over. I bid you peace as you return to the Old Gods. May you find favor in their embrace, and perhaps even a second chance in a newer life someday."
At Alec's words the man finally went silent.
From there Alec sheathed his dagger, before using both hands to swing the bronze sword up and then down onto the man's neck.
It wound up taking a second swing before his head severed from his body, and Alec felt tremors lightly run up his arms from the force he'd had to exert to make the action happen.
After that, he moved to the body and claimed the leather half sheathe from the now deceased former Chieftain's body; before turning and locking eyes firmly with Mother Merna.
"I believe we have a lot we must discuss, and I would appreciate your council; Mother Merna."
His words brought a light smile to the woman, who seemed to be missing half of her front teeth.
"All that was Dradol's is now yours young one. Let us speak at your new tent."
Alec merely nodded before moving forward, quietly asking Vigold and the others who'd held Dradol for his execution to gather up the bodies to be burnt, though not before searching the two men to gather any of the useful items they may have possessed on their person.
The Three Eyed Raven's POV:
"Time is a river…"
Her soft voice reverberated out in his mind, as he sailed the currents of time, doing his best to set plans for how to handle all that he needed to; to see his vengeance done.
'Soon my love…Soon Shiera...At least in regard to how we see it. Soon I shall have you back. You, and all that I am owed.' Brynden Rivers thought, with just a hint of bitterness.
The next decade or so would set the board, would make his ascension possible, and he needed to know all that he could to make his dreams into the only inevitable reality.
But then…
Something strange happened.
Something that had never happened before.
The sound that assaulted his mind was unlike anything he'd ever heard before, and at first, he believed it to be simply that, a sound.
As he attempted to look back on his time as the Lord Commander he'd been, it happened again.
After a moment though Brynden realized that this was no simple noise, like that of a horn, though it sounded somewhat like one at first.
'This is a language.'
Something cold and niggling grappled with his gut at that realization.
Then, something cataclysmic happened to him.
Something he'd never even considered possible.
His sight was subverted.
Fear lanced through him with the force of a hurricane at that.
How long had he sat back, watching history pass by while he awaited his chance?
He tried with all he had to look away from the encroaching darkness that was steadily creeping up the sides of his vision.
Soon after his vision reached nothing but blackness…light came back to him.
But not like he was used too.
The stars…
The stars in all their vastness and beauty lay before him now.
It was strange, it was beautiful…but more than anything it was terrifying to behold, because he had not tried to see this.
Suddenly, two of the stars began to glow with an otherworldly luminescence…
A deep yet bright blue.
They began to move closer towards him…and as they got closer Brynden felt as though there were creeping hands set around his neck; ready to strangle the light and life right out of him.
The deep sounding language echoed out at him again, and that sound sent tremors of fear right through him.
'NO!'
With what felt like monumental effort, Brynden finally found himself back, underneath the Weirwood; tied up within its roots.
For the first time in however long, Brynden Rivers had felt true fear... and helplessness as he breathed deeply while trying to settle his beating heart.
He cared for it not.
Only later on when he once again tried to use the Weirwood's power to try and look back into the flow of time would he realize how badly things had gone…how much they had changed.
For all that awaited him was the loud sound of that strange and unknown language, his vision being once again consumed by the utter brightness of the two star like spots in the vastness of the heavens.
And the realization that came upon him after that, which was so much worse.
'They weren't stars…they were eyes.'
Annnnd that's the chapter folks! As I stated up top, this was a brand-new idea, one that was beating at the corners of my brain to give it a try. So here we are. If you are reading this as a general subscriber, I hope you like this new story. Again, if you are just finding me for the first time, I hope you'll give my other works a look. I have been having a really rough go of it the past couple of months, so things have been really slow going. This is the first time in a while that I was not only thoroughly excited to write, but that the words just hit the page effortlessly. There are few feelings that compare. I put this together in a day and a half, and I'm quite happy with it. I normally don't get much time off from my career, but I promise, none of my projects are abandoned. It's simply a matter of needing the time, and more importantly the motivation to see these things through. I ask for your patience in that, and finish with that I hope to see you in the next one; whether that's involving this story a newer one or something older. Until then, this is Sojiro signing off. Laters Gators.