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[BONUS] Winter Comes Ch. 19 (GoT SI)
🕑 Added 2017-10-08 06:36:33 +0000 UTCA/N: Here we go.
-x-X-x-
The trip back to the Wall was a somber, quiet affair. How could it not be? Even as Theon found himself carried on the back of a reanimated dire wolf with his sister at his back, there just didn’t seem to be anything to talk about. The White Walker that escorted them back was silent as the grave as well, showing absolutely none of the personality or even intelligence that he’d seen from the… what did he even call them? Were they royals among the White Walkers? It certainly seemed like it, given the impression he’d gotten from the Night King.
Were the ‘Royal’ White Walkers the only ones capable of independent thought? … Did it even matter? That thought had gone through Theon’s head more times than he could count since they’d left the Night King’s presence. Did ANY of it truly matter anymore? He supposed it did, else he wouldn’t be heading for the Wall to go back to Winterfell. Theon was going to go home and he was going to be King Stark.
… And wasn’t that just terrifying. The Night King’s words rang through his head. When there are no more Starks in Winterfell, then he would descend, more than likely at the head of that massive army of death. All the dragonglass in the world couldn’t save them then, even if Theon still had the ability to plan a defense against the creature now living in his head.
He hoped that his sister wasn’t as aware of the Night King’s presence as he was. Theon could feel the White Walker’s claws scraping at his mind. Usually it was barely noticeable, but the Night King was watching him and he wanted Theon to know it too, as far as the King in the North could tell. Shuddering, Theon closed his eyes for a moment, but before he knew it, Lyanna was smacking him to get his attention.
“Theon! There it is!”
His eyes open back up and he looks to see it. The Wall, despite what he now knows about its Watchmen, has never looked more beautiful. If he never sees the lands beyond the Wall, or their inhabitants again, he will be oh so very happy. They arrive at the gate within minutes, the undead dire wolf acting as their mount making exceptional time.
Both White Walker and dire wolf turn and leave as Theon and Lyanna enter the Wall, but neither Stark sibling looks back. Waiting for them within is the Lord Commander and fifty brothers of the Night’s Watch. Wildlings, one and all… Theon can’t believe that they allowed things to get so bad that an outright conversion of the Night’s Watch went completely unnoticed. Grimacing, the Stark King reflects that his own conversion will probably end up being unnoticed as well… it has to, if he’s to safe the North.
“King Stark.”
The Lord Commander still looks like a boy, playing at being a man. At the same time, there’s something more menacing about him now. Theon supposes it’s probably the stories one hears about wildlings beyond the Wall. A wildling boy is no less a killer than a wildling man.
“… Lord Commander.”
The young Lord Commander’s lips twitch into a half-smirk and he cocks his head to the side.
“Am I?”
The boy is feeling ornery now that they serve the same master. Theon knows he shouldn’t be surprised and really, he isn’t as he places a hand on the arm where the Night King laid is brand. A sardonic smile crosses his face.
“If I am to remain King Stark, I suppose that yes, you are the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. It is HIS will after all, isn’t it?”
Despite Theon’s sarcastic tone, his words are actually received quite well by the black cloaked Free Folk all around him. The Lord Commander even smiles more genuinely as he nods in agreement.
“We are his Chosen. You and your sister are part of that now. Part of something greater than yourselves.”
Theon’s mind immediately goes to the vision of a sea of dead that the Night King had forced upon him and Lyanna. He thinks about why he’s doing this, why he’s serving the White Walker. The Lord Commander is right, in a way. His purpose is greater than his crown or his Kingdom. His purpose is to save the whole of the North, perhaps even all of Westeros from a menace that they don’t even know exists.
A light chuckle escapes Theon’s throat and he inclines his head in agreement.
“Indeed.”
Lyanna looks to him alarmed but Theon merely slips a hand into hers and squeezes. They will talk later, when they aren’t surrounded by the Night King’s sycophants. Funnily enough, Theon doesn’t actively fear the White Walker’s wrath itself. So long as he does not act against him, Theon believes the Night King could care less about his thoughts and his feelings.
That does not mean these… Chosen will react the same way. Theon has seen zealots before. He knows the kind of man who will serve their god with all their soul and that is not the kind of man who takes kindly to anyone doing less than serving with their all. He and Lyanna are surrounded by those types of men. The entire Night’s Watch is now made of them, as far as he’s concerned.
The Lord Commander gestures for them to follow and the group begins to move through the Wall to the other side where the Nightfort awaits.
“You will stay the night with us. I imagine it’s been a time since you had a true rest. Then, in the morning I will send five hundred of my men with you to Winterfell, to make sure you arrive back at your ancestral seat without difficulty.”
Theon can see the benefits in showing up back at Winterfell with both Lyanna and the Night’s Watch at his back. It will help him to sell the ‘truths’ that the Night King intends for him to shove down his peoples’ throats. Still, he can’t help but frown slightly at the wording the Lord Commander uses.
“You think there will be difficulty on the road?”
The young Lord Commander looks back at him and grins.
“Most definitely your Grace. King Bolton, for example, already makes his intentions towards your lands and your castle known. If word reaches him or his allies that you and your sister have made it back to the Wall, there will be… ‘bandits’ on the road to Winterfell, if you catch my meaning. You two are now the Night King’s most important Chosen. Our lives are forfeit next to yours. You will make it safely back to Winterfell, on this you have my word.”
Lyanna is shaking beside him and Theon is stone-faced as he processes what this wildling Lord Commander has told him.
… He’s going to paint a field red with the blood of the fucking Boltons.
-x-X-x-
The next morning, they depart for Winterfell just as planned. And if Theon pushes the small legion of men that the Lord Commander has given him a bit harder than normal, none complain. They make excellent time, but it still takes a week to return to Winterfell. There is surprise, but mostly pleasure at the return of their King and his sister. His lady wife is most pleased to have him back and Theon takes the time to give her and her belly a kiss, a reminder of why he must do what he must do.
Then he calls for the Maester.
“My King, it is so good to have you and your sister back in Winterfell. The castle felt empty without you two. Why, I remember when you were both but children, laughing and playing, bringing life to this old pile of sto-.”
“Enough. The reminiscing can wait for another time. I need you to send ravens to all of my bannermen. They should be back in their holdfasts by now. King Bolton is preparing to attack my lands, to attack Winterfell because he thinks me gone. Even my reappearance will not stop him however, the bastard smells blood in the water. We have a war ahead of us and far too little time to prepare.”
“… My King, your information is a tad out of date.”
Theon blinks dumbly, brow furrowed as he glances to the old, smiling man.
“What? This information is only a week old, how can it be out of date?”
The Maester’s smile grows just a bit more and he spreads his arms wide, shrugging as if to say, ‘what can you do?’
“King Bolton has already been taken care of my King. He was found flayed alive in his study, his heart still beating, even as it lay exposed to the elements. His Maester told his bannermen and subjects that his last act was to expose his own son as the culprit. A search of the Prince’s quarter revealed the bloody clothing and the tools that the young man used to do the deed. It wasn’t hard to arrange at all.”
Theon is no fool. He can put two and two together well enough. But he cannot comprehend why the Maester, the old man who doted on him and Lyanna as if they were his grandchildren, would do this.
“You… arranged this? Why? Are the Maesters not neutral in such affairs as these? Since when do you carry out assassinations?!”
The old man’s kindly smile grows just a bit wider.
“The Maesters are neutral my King, yes… however, before I made my vows to the citadels, I made an oath that far outweighed them all. I’m sure you know what this is.”
The old man pulls back the loose sleeve of his robe and Theon’s eyes flicker down before widening in shock at faintly glowing blue handprint on the Maester’s arm. His own throbs for a moment and Theon immediately grasps it, gasping in surprise and staring up at the Maester’s smiling face.
“I did not think I would serve a Stark King who had been Chosen by the Night King in my life time your Grace. But I suppose I should have expected the unexpected from you my dear boy. Long before you were King, long before you were the Hungry Wolf… you were the most impossible child. If anyone was going to venture into the Land of Always Winter and discover him, it would be you, wouldn’t it?”
“You are…”
“I am Chosen, yes.”
Theon is in shock. Perhaps if he had more time he would be able to put it together, but in this moment, he can only ask a simple question.
“… How?”
The Maester chuckles slightly, still the jovial, friendly old man that Theon grew up with. And yet, the Stark King has to remind himself that this same man ordered the brutal assassination of another King less than a week ago.
“Your Grace, the Night King’s Chosen have been in the North, your North, for almost two thousand years. To ask me how is to ask me to explain centuries upon centuries of subterfuge. Best if you just read my predecessor’s book on the subject. He went into great detail about the History of the Chosen, but unfortunately only those of us… ‘in the know’ so to speak, are allowed to read it given its sensitive nature. Still, you are one of us now.”
“Your predecessor… how many…”
Theon trails off, at a loss for words. Luckily, the kindly old man is happy to fill in the blanks.
“Hm? How many what dear boy? How many Maesters or how many Chosen altogether?”
After a moment of thinking about it, Theon answers simply with a half-hearted shrug.
“Yes.”
Chuckling at Theon’s weak attempt at a joke, the Maester gives him an answer that does not set the Stark King’s mind at ease one bit.
“Well, the Maesters in Winterfell have been Chosen for at least ten centuries now, as far as I’m aware. As far as the rest of the North is concerned, the important castles all have a Maester who is also Chosen by this point. The late King Bolton certainly did… however, with the death of himself and the execution of his only son for kinslaying, House Bolton’s future is looking grim indeed. My colleague in Bolton Lands will perhaps need to find a new assignment. I’ve heard good things considering the new Andal Kings in the Vale. Perhaps one of them will foot the bill for a Maester from the Citadel, once the value of such a thing is explained to them.”
The Maester pauses and then seems to realize he’s only answered half of Theon’s question.
“As for the number of Chosen in general… tens of thousands I imagine. I can’t give you an exact count, the bond that you and your sister share with the Night King is the strongest I’ve ever felt. If you cannot count us all up, I suspect no one can. Still, we are everywhere. All across Westeros, even if the majority of us are concentrated here, in the North.”
Theon’s head is swimming. Long before Rickar had ever come south of the Wall, long before the Night’s Watch had been subverted… the Night King was seeding the North with people like the one before him? Theon had been half-raised by this kind old man! Fuck! It was just… it was too much. Theon couldn’t help but sound a bit petulant.
“Why call me your King, if you serve another?”
Even then, the Maester continues to smile.
“You are my King, Theon Stark. He is my God. And yours now as well. We serve the same being, the same awe-inspiring creature.”
“I worship the Old Gods of the Forest…”
Even to his own ears, that sounds weak. Theon was never religious to begin with, but after everything he’s heard, he’s even more doubtful of the existence of such deities than ever before. The Maester just smiles sympathetically rather than reply. They both know the truth. With a grimace, Theon shakes his head.
“You… you cannot assassinate my enemies. There is no honor in that. I must prove my worth in battle or what worth does the Stark name hold?”
“There will be battles ahead Theon, I can assure you of that. You will fight for the rest of your life I imagine, and when you die your son and his son and his son after him will fight as well. War is the way of our world. Still, it is my duty to keep you and your family safe. You were not ready to face King Bolton. Your bannermen were not ready to answer the call. We needed time to recover O’ King in the North. With the Boltons gone and their lands in disarray, we now have it. When the Ironborn attack, we will be ready to come to the aid of our brothers in the west.”
That gets Theon’s attention and he’s immediately on his feet, his fists clenched.
“The Ironborn? The Ironborn are planning to attack the North?!”
The Maester chuckles and lifts a hand up to placate the Stark King.
“Not yet my dear boy, not yet. They will come though; the Night King has foreseen it and he has seen fit to give us warning. We will be ready for them and the North will unite behind you to defeat this outside menace, as it has before.”
Then this is to be his purpose. Theon is surprised to find that he is slowly becoming somewhat okay with all of this. If the Night King is true to his word and all Theon must do is live and keep his family name alive as well… perhaps it will not be so bad. The invisible leash around the Hungry Wolf’s neck will never feel remotely comfortable… but one must adapt or one will die.
“Very well then. Let’s begin.”
-x-X-x-
A small gate on the southern side of the Wall slid open and out into the snow walked a group of fifty crows and nine trainees. They walked for a time in complete and utter silence, before eventually arriving in a godswood. Only, there was something wrong with this godswood. The sworn brothers did not react, but the trainees did, staring in wide eyed horror at the frozen weirwoods all around them.
When they finally arrived at the heart tree, things got much worse. The tree with its carved face and bleeding eyes was just as frozen over as the rest of the godswood, but none of the nine bastards and orphans of the North were looking at it. Instead they stared at the creature that leaned against it, inhuman in appearance, monstrous even.
Only… these were not learned men. They saw a monster yes… but not a White Walker. None kneeled however and one among them found the confidence to speak, to question what was happening.
“W-What is this?!”
A sworn brother of the Night’s Watch turns and smiles.
“You stand before the Night King. The Night’s Watch does not serve the realms of men, nor do we take part in their wars. This is why. This is our liege. He is to be yours as well. Kneel.”
The nine young men shiver in the cold, glancing to each other and looking at this ‘Night King’ in obvious trepidation. But pure pressure is a hell of a drug and these young men have become brothers in all but name with the crows standing around them. With fifty pairs of eyes beneath fifty black cloaks staring at them, waiting for them to do as their told… all nine young men kneel.
“You will listen and you will repeat my words. Do you understand?”
Only once all nine have given their affirmation in the form of either a nod or a short ‘yes’ does the Watchman begin to speak.
“Hear my words and bear witness to my vow.”
They chorus along after him, repeating him verbatim.
“I shall take no wife and hold no lands. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post.”
“I am the Sword in the Darkness. I am the Watcher on the Wall.”
“The Cold does not harm me, for I am its ally. The Dark does not frighten me, for I am its servant. I am the Shield that guards the Realm of Winter.”
“I pledge my life and honor to the Night King, for this night and all nights to come.”
There is no hesitation. Perhaps if these were Northern Lords, perhaps if they’d known how their oaths had been altered… but no, these are bastards and orphans and their ignorance sees them through. There’s a pause as all nine trainees complete their oaths. A sense of finality hangs in the air, before the same man that led them through the words grunts and speaks again.
“Bare your right arms before the Night King and bow your heads.”
The nine young men do as they’re told, tensing up as the inhuman monster steps closer. He reaches out and grasps their arms one at a time. There is a hiss of pain and each stare at the blue handprint he leaves behind, but soon enough it is over. There is a smile on the Watchman’s face as he speaks once more.
“Rise, brothers of the Night’s Watch.”
The young men rise, even as the Night King steps back, still completely silent. They can feel him now, in their minds. It is surprisingly pleasant, his cold presence running across their souls. But soon enough he is gone and they are surrounded by their brothers, happy faces one and all. The nine men, no longer trainees, find themselves quickly becoming happy as well. They serve a higher purpose now after all. They have joined a brotherhood that finally gives their lives meaning.
This is where they belong, in service to the Night King right alongside the rest of their brothers.
-x-X-x-
The Harbor City is finally finished and boy is it a fucking beauty. Rickar was impressed when he saw what I’d started with the Free Folk while he was gone, but ultimately, I’d been happy to pass off the rest of the project to my son. He needed a distraction and judging by the way he threw himself into the work and finished the place up so quickly, Rickar had felt the same.
Now here I stand once more on the City’s docks. Still hadn’t come up with a name for the place. I figured Rickar could name it, or maybe the current King-Beyond-the-Wall, what’shisname. Didn’t really matter to me, but I hadn’t suggested Hardhome. It sounded kind of dumb to be honest, especially for such a majestic place. And just a tad cliché.
Regardless, I had something better to focus on for the moment. The docks were fully constructed this time around and a multitude of men and women stood before me, while two majestic ships, twice the size of their predecessor, sat on either side of them. I’d lost contact with the crew I’d sent to Essos for dragon eggs. Given what Rickar had told me about his time on the continent, I figured the marks had faded away.
That said, I didn’t ever expect that first crew to succeed anyways. It was more of a throw a dart at the wall blindfolded kind of scenario. This was a far more serious attempt! … And one that I still didn’t truly expect to succeed. Still, with two ships and two crews, I figured I was doubling my odds. I’d given both ships my best memory of a map of Essos and all the information I could about their tasks.
They would more than likely fail, but the attempt had to be made. I wanted fucking dragon eggs and I wanted them before the Doom of Valyria would make gaining one far too easy. Sure, I could wait until the remaining dragon eggs were just valuable paperweights and snag one then and it would be almost guaranteed then. But that was thousands upon thousands of years away… and if I was being honest with myself, I wanted to ride a dragon now, not then.
So, here we were. At the head of the crowd both crews are currently making stand a man and a woman, the captains of their respective vessels.
“Right then. You know what awaits you my Chosen. I cannot be with you on this journey however much I wish to be. Essos is a godless land filled with heathens and heretics. But if you succeed in your task and return to me with the prize that I seek, you will be uplifted and you will have a place by my side forever more. Now go. I will await your victorious return.”
There are no more words to be exchanged. The Captains and their crews bow to me as one and then turn to their ships. The two vessels are swiftly making their way out of the bay and towards the Narrow Sea. I watch them go, but I do not allow hope to creep into my heart. No, that would just result in disappointment.
Still, eventually it would work. I’m sure of that. When one has millennia to accomplish a goal, one can only fail if they are extremely incompetent, or just plain stupid.
I was fairly certain I was only moderately incompetent, and as the Night King, there was nothing plain about me.
… That was a dad joke, wasn’t it? And even the knowledge that it was doesn’t stop me from finding it funny, at least in the privacy of my own head. Fuck, what kind of monster was I becoming?
-x-X-x-
A/N: Theon's going to be just fine... BUT AT WHAT COST?!
And for those of you who only read this story on this website, I'm contemplating having a bit of an omake contest in regards to the SI getting dragon eggs.
Go read about that in my closing Author's Notes for this chapter on either Spacebattles, Questionable Questing, or Alternate History. Those are the websites where said contest would take place, as those are all forum websites which are much more conducive to hosting omakes.
