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[BONUS] Winter Comes Pt. 5 (GoT SI)
🕑 Added 2017-09-22 08:57:45 +0000 UTC A/N: And here we are. I wrote this entire thing in the last two hours, from 11:40 PM my time to 1:47 AM my time. Apologies if its shit. And yes, I did just speed write the biggest chapter of this fic when I probably should have been in bed, because I have absolutely no concept of self-control. Enjoy~-x-X-x-
To say Lyanna Stark was upset would be an understatement. Livid might have sufficed, but the female White Walker felt like she was beyond even that. She stared down from the battlements atop the Wall with nothing on her frozen blue face, no expression, no emotion. Her glowing eyes gazed out at the army of her kinsmen that had so graciously come to relieve her pawn of command.
Could they not see what they were doing?! Could they not understand that she was trying to save ALL OF THEM?! Finally, emotion bled into her face as Lyanna gritted her teeth together and roared in impotent rage, slamming her fist into a nearby half-frozen wooden post. The wood shattered at the point of impact as her enhanced strength tore right through it. The two men behind her, soldiers of the Night’s Watch who had bent the knee to her pawn, flinched back as the entire structure she was stood upon shook just a bit with the force of her blow.
They were afraid of her. The humans, her descendants, her kin. All of them were afraid of her. That was what had brought them to the Wall, that and what their perceived as a betrayal of the Thirteenth Lord Commander’s Oath when he declared himself Night’s King. A Stark rode at the front of an army of Northmen as they laid siege to the Wall from the side it was not meant to protect from. They came from the back and they were making steady progress in retaking the massive barrier that kept back to Land of Always Winter and its inhabitants.
Staring down, Lyanna could see with her enhanced eyesight the King of Winter that led the Northmen against her pawn and thus her. Brandon the Breaker they called him and Lyanna’s cold heart ached in memory of her brother. If only she could sit down with this Brandon and talk to him. If only she could explain what she was doing and why. But no, he had not wanted to talk. There was apparently talk of her and her pawn bewitching the entire Night’s Watch.
Lyanna almost wanted to laugh hysterically at the idea. The men of the Night’s Watch hadn’t been bewitched. The majority had simply agreed to serve their Lord Commander as he became the Night’s King. Those that didn’t had died. But now she was some kind of witch and those who served were mind controlled thralls, while those who’d died were sacrificed souls to increase her and her pawn’s power.
It would be laughable, but given the circumstances, Lyanna wasn’t enjoying the humor. The King of Winter, the Stark of Winterfell had come to retake control of his Wall. Meanwhile…
Spinning around, the white haired woman walked at a clipped pace across the battlement to the opposite side of the Wall. It was a quick walk but when she looked down on the other side, what she saw did not make her happy in the least. Perhaps if things had gone as she’d planned, she could have accepted her descendant’s assault on the Wall from the south.
But the Night King had not come for her. Somehow he’d known that she would be betrayed by the very race she was trying to save, not on one front, but on two. Staring down at the Free Folk army below her, Lyanna Stark snarled. They were led by a man called Joramun. The King-Beyond-the-Wall. It showed just how little the Night King cared that this Joramun even still had his head. The Night King should have been the King-Beyond-the-Wall, no matter how much she hated his frozen guts!
Yet here the Wildling was with an army of thousands at his back. More than that though, he had giants. Lyanna had no idea how this Joramun had managed it, but he had dozens, maybe even hundreds of giants in his army. She could see them now, a few riding fucking mammoths as they struck at the Wall’s fortifications, aiming to slip inside of the gates and invade the place. Luckily the gates were still closed… for now.
Lyanna’s head whipped back and forth from one side of the Wall to the other as she considered her options. Enemies to the North… enemies to the South. And neither was the enemy that she’d needed to show up. The humans she’d been willing to sacrifice everything for, were now working together to kill her. Her descendants, striking in conjunction with the Wildlings that had once been their kin but now were considered to be little better than savages.
This alliance, for she knew it was that, their attacks and the places they were striking were too strategic to be coincidental, had come about because of her. A White Walker had infiltrated the Wall and despite her efforts to curtail such rumors, the information had gotten out. They came for HER. They wanted HER head.
Lyanna’s glowing blue eyes were filled with hate, but also something else… desperation. This was not where she died. She would not lose her life in such a useless manner, not to the very humans she was trying to protect. No, this was not to be her end. Spinning around one final time, Lyanna gestured sharply to her ‘guards’.
“Go fight alongside your brothers! I have no need for your protection!”
There’s hesitance, because of course there is. She may have true power over their new ‘King’, but to them she is but a woman even now. Growling in annoyance, Lyanna repeats herself, distilling her previous order to a single roared word.
“GO!”
They go, finally. Only once their gone does Lyanna Stark slump a little bit, the fight leaving her as she allowed her eyes to fill with the grief she’s feeling. The first time in over a century that she’s been so close to her family. A Stark has come to the Wall, seeking her out. Unfortunately, as she’d always known deep down inside, he’s only seeking her out to kill her. All of them, all they wish to do is kill her.
As she begins to move towards where she needs to go, Lyanna’s mind falls on the one who turned her into what she is now. The Night King has made her into a creature so formidable that entire armies rise up at the mere mention of her existence. And yet, despite the actions of him and his ilk during the Long Night, he does not eradicate the Wildlings.
Instead, he plays house with them. He builds villages. He promotes loyalty. What is the Night King playing at? She knows him for the monster he is. But only now does Lyanna realize just how much of a mystery his plans are to her. What does he intend for the Free Folk? What does he intend for the Wall and for the North? More importantly… what does he intend for her?
The female White Walker has but one option open to her now. She’d heard the Night King say a phrase once that felt apt in this situation. Flaring her nostrils and breathing out hard, Lyanna Stark squared her shoulders as she marched on.
It was ‘time to face the music’.
-x-X-x-
Brandon Stark, also known as King of Winter and Brandon the Breaker, stood in the Night’s King’s makeshift throne room. A contingent of his men stood behind him and a man he very well might have to call his equal stood at his side. Joramun. That was his name. They were calling him the King-Beyond-the-Wall. Brandon wasn’t sure if he was supposed to care or not. His own Kingdom did not extend past the Wall. That was the point of the massive barrier, to act as a border through which none of the dark terrors beyond it could pass.
But then, the dark terrors had found a way in anyways. And now here stood a Wildling King for the first time in nearly two centuries, with Free Folk following him… including Giants. Only one stood in the group that backed Joramun up, but Brandon could still tell many of his men were made all the more nervous by the huge creature’s presence.
Still, they were here as allies and they were here for one reason.
“Where is she brother? Where is the White Walker?”
Brandon Stark, Thirteenth Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, sat upon a throne covered in black furs. His vision was glazed over and he stared at the ground without comment. The King of Winter hated to see his brother like this, almost as much as he’d hated to receive the news of what the man had done. They were supposed to be family, kin. Yet his twin had betrayed him. Had it always been there, lurking under the surface? Only one of them could be King and he had been the Brandon Stark born earlier.
At the time, his brother had seemed fine with it and when he’d offered the post of Lord Commander to the man, Brandon Stark had been ecstatic to become the Thirteenth Lord Commander of such a prestigious honor. The Night’s Watch was the North’s greatest treasure, an order with a noble purpose and a dire enemy. And for years, their Lord Commander had led them well.
Only to become this. Brandon the Breaker desperately hoped that his brother had been enthralled by the witch as the rumors said, even if his fate would have to be the same regardless. For his own peace of mind, he hoped that the ‘Night’s King’ would not speak up and answer him. Unfortunately, the man did eventually do so, his voice raspy and quiet, but heard clearly by all in the Hall all the same.
“She is gone. Fled back beyond the Wall I assume. She promised me glory. And then she abandoned me. I am nothing without her.”
There are jeers from the wildlings to Brandon’s right as he gritted his teeth together. Joramun scoffs and hefts his massive war axe. But the King of Winter isn’t done yet and he holds out a hand to stay his contemporary’s blood lust as he says his piece.
“You WERE something without her brother. You were Lord Commander. You were meant to be the Sword in the Darkness! The Watcher on the Wall! How could you forget your oath over a woman, over a CREATURE?! Do you not remember the stories we heard as children? Do you not remember what you swore to guard the Realms of Men FROM?!”
Now even his men are becoming anxious, riled up by their King’s obvious anger. If the Wildlings were spoiling for a slaughter before, they’re practically already rushing forward now. Still Brandon holds for a moment to give his brother his last words.
“She was… so beautiful.”
The King of Winter chokes back a sob as he draws his Greatsword from his back. Joramun looks like he wants to say something as Brandon approaches his twin on the makeshift throne, but the King-Beyond-the-Wall stays both himself and his forces. Silence falls as the Breaker comes to a stop before the Night’s King.
His brother’s head is down, but when Brandon stands before him, the man finally looks up. His face is mutated, purple veins coming from his single glowing blue eye as he glares with vehement hatred at the King of Winter. Horrified and disgusted at what he sees, Brandon the Breaker rears back and swings. A moment later, the Night’s King’s short reign ends as his head rolls across the floor.
The tip of his Greatsword sinks into the floor as Brandon bows his head and leans on it for support. There is a cheer, started by the wildlings but soon continued by his own men. The whole hall is filled with celebration for a brief moment before the King of Winter whirls around and snarls loud enough to silence everyone.
“His Watch has ended! As King of Winter, I declare the Thirteenth Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch to be nameless. His house and his identity will be struck from the histories! He will be nothing more than a traitor to our children and our children’s children and their children’s children! The Night’s King’s reign is OVER!”
His heartfelt, passion-filled words spoken, the Hall broke out into cheers once again, this time started by the Northerners and only taken up partially by the Free Folk at their sides. As Brandon the Breaker walked forward, Joramun moved to cut him off. King stared down King for a long moment as the King-Beyond-the-Wall lifted his chin as if to ask what happened now.
Were they to fight? Brandon was tired and weary. War was not in him at this moment, though he was sure it would be eventually. For now though…
“Joramun, so-called King-Beyond-the-Wall. The North does not recognize your Kingdom. But we do recognize your actions and the actions of the Free Folk on this day. The White Walkers will always be a threat to us all… and where there is one, there is bound to be more.”
Brandon paused, even as Joramun’s face became unreadable. There was something lurking in the other King’s eyes, but the King of Winter could not tell what it was. Ignoring it, he continued on.
“You will be given one week to pull back from the Wall. So long as you and yours do not raise arms against us, no Northerner will strike a Wildling on pain of death. Leave the Wall; go back to your caves and your tribes and your huts. Your service will be remembered.”
There’s a pause. Brandon’s grip on his sword tightens and the atmosphere in the Hall becomes almost unbearably tense. Everyone is a moment away from the fight; everyone is ready to begin the next war if Joramun decides it will be that way. But after a moment, the King-Beyond-the-Wall drops the edge of his massive war axe into the ground and laughs uproariously.
“You’ve got balls King of Winter, I’ll give you that! Fine! We’ll leave. Not like we came to the Wall to fucking pass through and become kneelers anyways you fuck! Hah! Good fight though, I’ll give you that. Pretty sure we killed more crows than you by far though!”
They had, but that was because the Northern Army had stayed their blade as much as they could. The men of the Night’s Watch were kin after all, and where one could be spared, one was. Someone had to man the Wall going forward. Hopefully with his brother dead and the White Walker fled, the enthrallment over the Watch would fade away.
When Brandon just stood there staring at Joramun in silence though, not reacting or responding to the provocation for several long moments, the King-Beyond-the-Wall just snorted derisively and spat to the side. Then he left and his army left with him. It was an orderly retreat for the Free Folk and while there were incidents on both sides, within a week the Wall would be occupied only by Northmen and those of the Night’s Watch once more.
It would be a long road to recovery though.
-x-X-x-
I held back the smile as Lyanna came into view over the hill, but my gaze still zeroed in on her from where I stood in the middle of the Thenns’ village. The female White Walker looked fine, not even winded from her long trek north. She did look just a tad peeved and a bit down trodden though. And her hair was all over the place, wild and untamed.
Eyes followed my gaze and alit on her and soon enough everyone in the village was staring at the female White Walker as she approached me, walking right past the village’s gate guards without sparing them a single glance. With her closer now, I let a slight, placid smile spread across my face. I put my arms behind my back and clasped my hands together, knowing with a bone deep certainty that she could not kill me, and thus not fearing her in the slightest.
“Did you have a fun trip my dea-mmph!”
Lyanna grabbed the front of my tunic and pulled me down to her level, crashing her lips roughly into my own. And then her legs were hooking around mine and in one deft move she had me on the cold, frozen ground. Not that that bothered me any. I cocked an eyebrow up at her as she clawed at my chest. An ugly snarl spread across her face and she spoke only two words before getting started.
“Shut up.”
-x-X-x-
Lyanna’s fingers worked deftly at my clothing and once I realized what she was doing, I worked deftly at hers. Neither of us spared any more attention to the Free Folk all around us, staring, watching in awe and satisfaction. Soon enough, Lyanna had my cock out and in her hand, stroking up and down as I grew larger and larger. My own hands ripped at the dress that human idiot had no doubt given her, tearing it away from her chest and exposing her delicious breasts to my sight as she let out another snarl.
I just smirked, even as I groped and mauled her tits. Hiking up the skirt of her torn dress, Lyanna was the one who ripped her smallclothes from her body and tossed them aside. Then, she sank down on my now fully hard cock with a gasp and a groan, even as I forced her breasts to my mouth and began to suck and bite at them.
We fucked right there in the middle of the village. Lyanna stayed on top for a time, but eventually I reversed things and put her on her back so I could plow her senseless. When she tried to take control again, I did not allow it, instead wrestling with her until she was prone. It was a dominance play and I was showing her in plain and simple terms, just who was in charge.
SHE had come to ME. While she snarled and growled as I slammed home into her from behind with her body pinned beneath me, she still also thrust her hips back towards me as best she could. At the same time, the beautiful inhuman woman also bit my fingers when I placed them to close to her mouth. My lovely direwolf, vicious and primal and oh so very gorgeous.
I grinned almost ferally as I pounded into her cunt from above, slamming up against her cervix almost violently with each thrust. While doing so, I reached down and grabbed a handful of her hair, gathering it up into a ponytail and tugging her head back. My other hand grasped her throat, though I did not squeeze.
With my lips right beside her ear, I spoke.
“Tell me… did he even compare?”
Lyanna roared in defiance and thrashed against me, but I had her locked down and my strength overwhelmed hers. She was one of the youngest White Walkers after all, and would be THE youngest if not for my recent turning of Rogund. While I? I was the Night King. I pounded into her with all my force and held her head still so she could not head-butt me, even as I asked again.
“Did his cock reach as deep as mine does now? Did he bring you to completion each and every time, or did he cum inside you early, his pitiful seed not even reaching your womb?”
My words are hissed and only for Lyanna’s ears. None of the Free Folk watching us can hear me. They can certainly hear her howling though as she fights and struggles against me. But I do not let her up; I do not let her go. I give her no relief and no mercy. Her cunt squeezes around me in a delightful way that tells me just how much her body is enjoying this, even if SHE isn’t.
Still, she instigated this, after abandoning me, after conspiring against me, after fucking another man besides me. I may have wronged Lyanna Stark when I stole her from her family, but I was her family now and it was high time she recognized that fact. Growling, I thrust harder and roar my question directly into her ear this time.
“TELL ME!”
“NO!”
Her response finally breaks free and once she’s said it, it’s like she can’t stop.
“NO! He was not better! He was pitiful! He was small! He was a weak man, bound by his broken dreams! YOU ARE BETTER! FUCK! Fucking take me you fucking MONSTER!”
And so I do just that. I could care less what this might mean to the Thenns watching us. Perhaps they’ll write songs about it even. It doesn’t matter. All of my attention is focused on fucking Lyanna Stark’s tight blue body into the motherfucking ground. She cries out and climaxes twice around my member before I finally fill her womb with my seed. Only once I’m done inside of her do I pull out and let her up.
She lays there for a second, as I sit on my ass and watch her. Then, slowly but surely, the female White Walker gets to her hands and knees and then to her feet. Her tattered torn dress barely covers her modesty. She looks at me in silence and then turns and begins to walk away.
-x-X-x-
As my Queen limps out of the Thenn camp, I fix up my own clothing and stand. My glowing blue eyes slowly move around the village and as they meet human pupils, each and every Thenn lowers their eyes and falls to their knees in subservience. Huh, well that’s nice. Looking to where Lyanna is disappearing into the distance, heading further north to where we made our home for a hundred years, I let the wide smirk I’ve been holding back finally grow across my face.
The Night’s King defeated and my Queen back in my arms… so to speak. And all it had cost me was an ornately carved horn, inspired by my memories of legends from canon that may or may not have ever been true. Amusing, to say the least. I couldn’t help laughing a bit as the entire Thenn tribe knelt before me. It probably made me look insane. Ah well, I was already a monster beyond their comprehension, who the fuck cared?
-x-X-x-
Joramun, King-Beyond-the-Wall, was a tough motherfucker. Literally. But even he was having trouble keeping his legs from shaking as he stared at the monsters he’d found in the Thenn village. The Thenns were the fastest growing tribe in the area, and the most prosperous too. While he’d become King of the Free Folk without them, he still wished to bring them into the fold, if only to find out how the fuck it was they did it.
So he’d taken his army and surrounded the encampment. Completely peacefully of course. It was the implication more than anything. He was threatening them… by NOT threatening them. Joramun had been pretty proud of that, until he’d stopped in front of Rogund Thenn’s hut and demanded the man come out. Of course, the King-Beyond-the-Wall already knew that Rogund Thenn was dying slowly and couldn’t even stand let alone brave the cold.
He hadn’t expected to actually get the man to come out and had in fact intended to eventually go into see the old fuck. It would be a nice little concession that didn’t cost him anything while potentially gaining him some good will among the Thenns. Only, that wasn’t how it had worked out. He’d called for Rogund Thenn and the stuff of nightmares had stepped out of the hut.
Two White Walkers stood in front of him and Joramun’s eyes were wide, his breath coming out colder than usual as he stared in shock and horror. Even the bloodthirsty King-Beyond-the-Wall knew that he faced something that could not be fought, that could not be reasoned with. He was so fucking screwed. He shouldn’t have entered the Thenn village alone. This was about to become his tomb.
Then one of the White Walkers, the one with a circlet of horns rising from his scalp, spread his arms wide, palms out, smiled, and spoke.
“Peace Joramun. Peace, King-Beyond-the-Wall.”
Joramun gaped. Then he looked around and finally realized that the Thenns were not running around in terror. No, they were continuing their tasks, though many had their eyes on the exchange happening in their midst and those who did not were still very obviously listening in as they did their work.
“What… what is this?”
The King-Beyond-the-Wall already knew the answer of course. This was the answer to the Thenns’ prosperity. This was the reason for their success. They were serving the bloody White Walkers! Said White Walker laughed and looked around, his smile growing.
“I think you know what all of this is Joramun. But as for what’s happening right here and now… well you did ask for Rogund Thenn, did you not?”
When the one with the horns gestured to the one without and the other White Walker stepped forward, Joramun blanched. He’d met Rogund Thenn before and only now, as he stared, did he see the smallest semblance of a resemblance between the monster before him and the man who had created this place.
“Joramun. All grown up I see. And with an army at my doorstep. I’d be more upset, but I’m sure you’re smart enough not to attack now that you know the Thenns are under my King’s protection.”
Well, the circlet of horns HAD reminded Joramun of a crown. Still, the Wildling couldn’t help asking the obvious.
“King?”
Rogund, or whatever he’d been turned into, smiled a sharp toothed grin.
“You stand before the Night King, he who rules supreme over the Land of Always Winter. You stand before a being that has seen the past four thousand years and you stand because in his benevolence, my King has saw fit not to wipe the Free Folk off of these lands. He sees the potential in you, in all of us. He wishes to see you flourish, Joramun, King-Beyond-the-Wall.”
“Indeed. I have a gift for you, from one King to another. You march on the Wall, do you not?”
Joramun’s gaze moved back to this so-called ‘Night King’. Rogund had sounded… reverent as he extolled the virtues of the White Walker beside him. Now, the horned one smiled and held up something wrapped in cloth and tied with string. Joramun stared but made no move to take it. Despite his fear, the Wildling found the courage within himself to speak his mind, even in the face of what he’d been raised to believe was the greatest evil the world had ever known.
“I march on the Wall in order to kill one of your own. I march on the Wall to destroy the White Walker that sits in the Nightfort. I believe, as do the Free Folk that follow me, that she is a menace that must be stopped. As are you.”
Rather than grow angry and kill him as Joramun is half expecting, the Night King lets out a sigh and shakes his head.
“You believe me a monster. I suppose in your eyes, I am one. But we share a common goal King-Beyond-the-Wall. And I am not the menace you see me as. Nor is my wayward child. She has merely been led astray by her desires. She means no harm to you. She is no more a threat to you than I am.”
“And are you not a threat?”
Joramun had to say it. It came out fast and the Night King merely smiled widely, showing off the same rows of sharp teeth that Rogund had.
“Only if you make me one Joramun.”
His world reeling, the Wildling couldn’t help glancing back down at the ‘gift’ the Night King had for him.
“And this gift? What must I do for it?”
The Night King’s smile grew ever wider.
“Here and now? You will leave the Thenns in peace and take your army to the Wall without conscripting them. In return, this gift I offer you will give you an amplifier to your fighting strength far beyond anything that the few dozen men in this village would give you. You will also send a man to treat with the King of Winter, Brandon the Breaker. Together, the two of you will have no trouble taking the Wall back from this upstart ‘Night’s King’.”
The way the Night King says those last two words with such disdain makes Joramun believe it’s a bit personal. Surprisingly, this puts the King-Beyond-the-Wall at ease a bit. He understands personal. Though he does not understand something else the White Walker has said.
“The King of Winter? The Stark? What the hell does this have to do with him?”
The Night King grins wickedly once more.
“Did you think Brandon Stark would not act when news reached him of the Night’s King’s treachery? Did you not think he would march with the Northern Host to put the Night’s Watch in its place and the Wall back under his command? Alone and unorganized, neither of you can take the Wall from the Night’s Watch. It is too fortified. And even if you both attack, but at separate times, you give too much of a chance for disastrous failure. My child is not an idiot in matters of warfare. However, together…”
Joramun could see what the Night King was getting at.
“Together we could launch our attacks at the same time and victory would be assured as we overwhelmed them from both sides.”
“Precisely.”
Joramun shuddered at the White Walker’s pleased look. Focusing instead on the wrapped object in his hands, the King-Beyond-the-Wall cleared his throat and nodded to it.
“This gift that will amplify my army’s strength. Show it to me.”
The Night King did so easily, with a casualness that spoke to his utter calm in contrast to Joramun’s continued nervousness. What he revealed was a beautifully crafted horn, embossed with gold and engraved with runes.
“A horn?”
An incredulous note filled his voice as he stared with a furrowed brow. The Night King simply continued to smile as he held it up for Joramun to see.
“The Horn of Winter. Joramun, King-Beyond-the-Wall… how would you like to add Giant’s Friend to your far-to-short list of titles?”
Joramun’s eyes widened but before he could respond, the Night King had placed the horn against his lips and blew. A loud blast of sound escaped it, but it did not sound different from any other horn Joramun had ever heard. Yet, a moment later the ground shook and Joramun heard panicked cries from his army. Within moments, a long convoy of Giants, some on Mammoths, some simply on their two feet yet impossibly tall anyways, walked into the Thenn village.
Only about ten actually fit inside the village, while the rest stayed outside. The largest one stood at the head of the train of massive creatures and as he walked forward, he ignored Joramun completely in favor of looking to the Night King. The White Walker was unperturbed, despite seeming small next to the hulking giant.
With one hand holding the horn, the Night King pressed his other hand to his chest, still smiling.
“Friend.”
Joramun watched in shock as the giant repeated the gesture and spoke in a deep, full voice.
“Friend.”
With that exchange finished, the White Walker looked past his ‘friend’ to Joramun and lifted up the Horn of Winter.
“Well King-Beyond-the-Wall? Will you take up this gift and become friend of the Giants?”
It was clear what the Night King wanted him to do. Slowly but surely, Joramun forced himself forward, not even sure until after the first step had been taken whether he could move his tensed up body. Eventually though, he stood within reaching distance of the horn that the Night King held outstretched. Lips pressed tightly together, Joramun lifted a shaking hand and grabbed the Horn of Winter where the Night King was not touching it.
Rather than let go, the White Walker leaned in.
“There is one more thing you will do for me King-Beyond-the-Wall. My wayward child will flee when she sees the combined strength of you and the King of Winter. She will flee back to me and you will make sure a path is clear for her to do so. If she dies, I will eradicate every last Free Folk in my lands, leaving no one but the Thenns alive. Is that understood?”
Joramun’s fear had trickled away as the White Walker and he had spoken almost amicably. He’d begun to see the creature in front of him as nothing more than a man, albeit a long-lived one. He’d even, for a short moment, viewed this Night King as an equal, one of the few equals he even had in his new, lofty position.
The foolhardy thought of equality between him and the White Walker had fled when the creature had summoned nearly a hundred Giants with a horn blast. Now as the Night King’s glowing blue eyes seemed to pierce his very soul, Joramun’s fear returned. He swallowed thickly as he found himself unable to look away from the Night King’s gaze.
“… Aye.”
And then the smile was back, their eye contact was broken, and the White Walker let go of the horn, leaving Joramun holding it. Blinking stupidly, Joramun looked up as the massive Giant turned to him curiously, staring down at the horn. After a moment, it pressed its large hand against its chest and spoke in an inquisitive tone.
“Friend?”
Licking his lips, the King-Beyond-the-Wall did the obvious. He repeated the Giant’s gesture and nodded.
“Friend.”
The creature snorted and nodded before turning back and beginning to walk out of the Thenn village, his fellows following after. Joramun spared one last glance in the Night King’s direction, but the White Walker simply motioned for him to leave, almost as if he was shooing him away. In the end, the King-Beyond-the-Wall allowed himself to be shooed.
He and his army left the Thenns behind as quickly as possible, now with Giants marching alongside them. Because he had foolishly gone alone into the Thenn encampment, not a single man had seen what Joramun saw. Rumors spread like wildfire about how the hell he’d gone to recruit the Thenns and ended up with Giants instead. Joramun did not correct any of them, nor did he explain what had really happened.
The King-Beyond-the-Wall flirted momentarily with the idea of turning back around and attempting to defeat the White Walkers and this Night King with his army at his back. But the Giants would no doubt turn on him, ‘Horn of Winter’ or not. He was no fool. And to face White Walkers… a sole White Walker had seen the rise of two armies, one made of Free Folk and one made of Kneelers.
This Night King had an uncountable number of the creatures at his call in the True North. How could Joramun lead his people into a slaughter like that, when the cost for the survival of all Free Folk was so simple? Letting out a shuddering breath, the King-Beyond-the-Wall marched on.
Fuck. He couldn’t wait to kill some crows. At least then things would make sense again.
Comments
Cambrian
In actuality, my flow just goes where it goes. Tense switching between past and present is my biggest flaw as a writer (as far as I can tell)
Taryn Myst
Though I feel I should tell you to be healthy, the voracious reader in me can't say no to another chapter :D Actually did have a question about your writing style. From what I've seen you use present tense a lot. Is that intentional and if what draws you to use use? As always thank you for the bloody RIDICULOUS amount of smut you write.
