[BONUS] Winter Comes Ch. 15 (GoT SI) (Patreon)

Thing is, posting once a day, I feel like I deserve to get away with a filler chapter every once in a while. Hope you guys agree... and enjoy the byplay here at the very least~

-x-X-x-

She was in the godswood when it happened, once more praying at the heart tree. One might think she spent too much time in the godswood, praying for her damn infuriating brother. After all, how else does one react to a raven that speaks of White Walkers found across the sea. She wanted to know more… of course she did. Unfortunately, there was never enough room on the small piece of parchment one could tie to a trained raven’s leg. More than that, it felt like Theon was being purposefully vague and general in his wording.

Frustrating to say the least and so she’d come to pray yet again. She was about fifteen minutes in when the faint sounds of screaming and shouting reached her ears. The Lady Stark immediately stood and pulled her shortsword from its sheathe. Eyes wide, the she-wolf made her way out of the godswood at a quick, yet careful pace. What she found once she’d returned to Winterfell Proper horrified her though.

“WHITE WALKER! THERE’S A WHITE WALKER APPROACHING FROM THE EAST! WIGHTS FROM ALL SIDES! FIGHT YOU DAMN BASTARDS! STAND AND FIGHT!”

The shouts, now clear, were one thing. But the wights already inside their walls, tackling and pinning warriors to the ground, were far more terrifying. Lady Stark’s beautiful blue eyes dilated in fear and she immediately swung around to face the Stark Ancestral Crypt. Pressing her lips together tightly, she moved in that direction. The short sword in her hand would do her no good and the Lady Stark knew that she was the only one in Winterfell that knew where the dragonglass was hidden.

Theon’s missive had not sounded so urgent. In fact, he’d told her personally not to reveal the dragonglass before he’d returned. But if the White Walker was besieging Winterfell… w-was it the same one that he and his men had captured? Or was this another? If the former was the case, her brother was dead, his army was probably what made up the wights attacking their walls. If she came face to face with her brother’s dead eyes, could she stab dragonglass into his heart?

Unshed tears formed in the woman’s eyes, even as she hurried to her destination, first slipping inside the crypt and then practically sprinting down the underground hall, past the statues of those who had come before her, all the way to the far, far end. Lady Stark chose to believe that this was another White Walker. She chose to believe that Theon was still on his way back with his army, prisoner in tow. That meant, all Winterfell had to do was hold out until he made it back.

Or, she could personally gut the White Walker bastard trying to invade her home with a dragonglass dagger. That plan sounded far better, absolutely lovely in fact. A vicious, bloodthirsty grin grew across the Lady Stark’s face as she finally arrived at Brandon the Builder’s tomb. Luckily, the men in charge of such things had replaced the torches in the crypts as they were supposed to each day. The Starks of Winterfell, even those laying in their tombs, were never meant to go cold.

Pulling a torch from the wall, the she-wolf moved to Brandon the Builder’s visage and then she moved past it, to the side of his tomb where a lever lay. Her ancestor truly had been an absolute genius. Licking her lips, Lady Stark pulled the wooden thing and the ground opened up, revealing a staircase beneath the man’s stone coffin that went down into the darkness. She happily descended down it, using her torch to wade off the cold and the dark.

At the bottom was a vault that only those with Stark blood in them were ever told about or even shown. The vault did not contain gold or gems or treasure of any sort really. It was filled with something that most, in their ignorance, would call beyond useless. The Lady Stark stared at the walls filled with glittering black and smiled. She stood in the center of a room laden with dragonglass weaponry, relics of a war two millennia ago… a war returned to their doorstep now.

All of this would no doubt see use in the coming days if they were lucky, but for now, she only needed one weapon. One weapon and she would end the White Walker who threatened Winterfell. Licking her lips, the she-wolf reached out for a dragonglass sword hanging from the wall. She was just about to grasp it when a voice rang out, startling her.

“Lady Stark! Lady Stark, we must get you to safety!”

Spinning around, the blue-eyed beauty’s brow furrowed as she found a Northman standing there at the base of the stairs, ten or fifteen feet away, his features somewhat obscured by the shadows. He had a hand outstretched towards her.

“You… how did you find me here?”

“I saw you entering the crypt and followed you milady. Please, we must go before the wights hunt us down and we’re trapped.”

Despite herself, the she-wolf takes a step towards the man, and then another. Her torch held in one hand and her shortsword held in the other, she squints in the darkness, even as she rebukes the Northman.

“No, this is the safest place for us right now. Against the wights, against the White Walker. I came down here to get a weapon, one of these weapons. With dragonglass and a bit of luck, we… can… you!”

She can see the man’s features now. She recognizes them well, with his pitch-black hair and angled face and blue eyes. Lady Stark stares at the face of the man who’d been spying on her in the godswood, who’d she’d sent on to join her brother’s army, his ear in her hand as she personally dragged him to the cart. The man grimaced when the exclaimed word left her throat.

The she-wolf gaped. How could he be here?

“Ah… yes, me. So you remember me. If I’d been a bit less rushed, I might have thought to change my disguise. Unfortunately, time is shorter than I’d like. Damn, this would have been far easier if you were just a little meeker Lady Stark.”

Her eyes widened in outrage at those words, but they stayed wide from terror, as the handsome man suddenly shifted and transformed before her eyes, the shadows almost seeming to fall away from him to reveal the White Walker that lay beneath. To her credit, Lady Stark immediately turned around and moved for the nearest dragonglass, dropping the torch to the ground as she went

The White Walker was faster though and her wrists were grabbed, pulled behind her back as her bronze shortsword was forced from her hand as well. She snarled and shrieked and struggled against the White Walker’s grip, but ultimately to no avail as he carefully but swiftly dragged her out of the dragonglass vault and up the staircase, back to the Stark Ancestral Crypt.

The fighting was still going on above and she could only hope that Winterfell’s defenders were winning. That hope died when the White Walker’s cold breath suddenly blew past her ear.

“I’m here for you Lady Stark. Quit fighting me, come quietly, and my wights will withdraw from Winterfell. None of your people have died and none of them need die, so long as you submit, right here, right now.”

Shuddering, the she-wolf processed the White Walkers’ words and ultimately went limp as he continued to drag her along. The next thing she knew, they were above ground again and the inhuman monster that held her prisoner was binding her hands behind her back with rope. The fighting was still going on all around them as he moved with purpose, but when she looked around, she saw that for some reason, the White Walker was telling the truth. The wights had not killed and those they’d captured were in fact merely captured, pinned to the ground.

Many of these pinned men saw her. Many called out, screaming for her or yelling at the White Walker to let her go. Instead, the monster picked her up and laid her over his shoulder like a sack of fucking potatoes, carrying her out of Winterfell’s fallen gates without a single ounce of concern. She struggled and kicked a bit of course, shouting her anger at being treated so disrespectfully… but it was to no avail.

At the very least, the last thing Lady Stark saw of her home as she was carried off was the wights rushing back over the walls, leaving Winterfell in droves and forming up as a mass around her and her captor.  

Lyanna Stark, sister to the Hungry Wolf, tried to stay strong. But it was hard, oh so hard. Weaponless, defenseless, helpless… the tears began to fall from her eyes and sobs wracked the poor woman’s frame as the enormity of her situation began to hit her.

-x-X-x-

Rickar had felt bad when the Lady Stark had begun crying shortly after their departure from Winterfell. To be fair though, he’d felt bad in general. Her tears had merely compounded her already existing guilt. Still, he was beginning to prefer her sorrow over… this.

“My brother will come for you bastard. You may have kept me from the dragonglass, but you still left it behind for him you moron. He will assemble the greatest host of Northmen that you’ve ever seen. He will march beyond the Wall, each of his warriors armed with dragonglass. You and your damn kind will die with black blades buried in your hearts.”

Rickar let out an explosive sigh. In a moment of weakness, he’d told the woman that her brother still lived, as did his men. Given he’d gone out of his way to avoid killing anyone in Winterfell, she’d chosen to believe him. He almost wished she hadn’t, because now the damn she-wolf was sure that Theon Stark would come for her.

To be fair, she wasn’t wrong. Even now, as they got closer and closer to the Wall, Rickar watched through the few undead scouts he’d left behind back in the forests surrounding Winterfell. He had observed Theon Stark’s arrival and he had watched the man react with understandable rage when he found out about the disappearance of his sister. Now there were Northmen traveling across the whole of Westeros’ top half and Theon was already leading his vanguard towards the Wall, each man armed with dragonglass and carts of the stuff trailing behind them in a massive caravan.

The King in the North intended to assemble his host at the Wall, just as the Lady Stark predicted. Theon would go beyond the Wall not just to save his sister, but in a misguided attempt to end the perceived threat of the White Walkers once and for all.

… Rickar had definitely fucked this up something fierce. Still, at least he was almost back at the hidden entrance to the tunnel that would allow him to head North. He would meet up with his father, apologize profusely, and do whatever the man told him to do. The Night King would know what needed to be done. His father wou-

The White Walker stopped dead, Lady Stark still ranting and raving on his shoulder as he stared at where the entrance to the tunnel had been. It was caved in, destroyed, ruined. He suddenly wished he HADN’T sent most of the wights he’d raised back to their eternal slumber. He’d just felt guilty about desecrating so many damn graves… his guilt really was fucking things up more for him right now.

Letting out a groan, Rickar turned and began to head for the next tunnel entrance. It was only an hour away and he cou-

Rickar. Come to the Nightfort. Now.

His father’s voice rang through his head and brooked no argument as Rickar grimaced and gasped at the sheer ‘volume’ behind the mental image. His father was NOT happy. Still, the Nightfort? He didn’t understand why, but he also didn’t dare disobey. An explosive sigh left his lips this time and he headed that way.

“Do you… do you even know where you’re going? You’ve turned around TWICE in as many minutes! Are you stupid or something? Do you even have a plan for getting past the Wall?”

Rickar’s glowing blue eyes slowly squeezed shut in exasperation as his kidnap victim continued to act more like the disgruntled wife he wished to make her, rather than a damn prisoner! This… was going to be a long walk.

-x-X-x-

Lady Lyanna Stark didn’t know what to make of any of this anymore. The White Walker lugging her around like a sack over his shoulder was either an idiot or the most inexplicable creature she’d ever had the misfortune of meeting. Or both. Probably both, considering he was walking them right up to the gates of the Nightfort.

Lyanna finally held her tongue. She could have said a number of things about his intelligence or lack thereof, but if the White Walker wanted to attack the Night’s Watch head on and end up filled with dragonglass (surely the Night’s Watch had plenty of the stuff) then she wasn’t about to warn him off. And so, she stayed quiet, right up until the point where the gates opened for her captor and brothers of the Night’s Watch stood on the other side with their weapons sheathed and their heads bowed.

“W-What… what the fucking hell is going on? Crows! Attack the damn White Walker!”

She didn’t recognize a single man, but to be fair, the last time she’d been to the Wall, she’d been nothing but a girl, her and Theon brought along by their father to see the towering behemoth of a barrier. Still, when the Watchmen ignored her, she was more than a little aggrieved. Even more so over the fact that her kidnapper seemed to reach some sort of understanding if the sound he made was any indication.

They continued moving and she continued shouting.

“CROWS! FIGHT THE WHITE WALKER! DAMN YOU! DAMN YOU ALL TO HELL! I AM LADY LYANNA STARK AND I COMMAND YOU RELEASE ME THIS INS-oof!”

They’d come to a stop and Lyanna had been dropped rather unceremoniously on the ground, her arms still tied uncomfortably behind her back. She looked around swiftly, but stopped dead when she turned her head and saw WHY the White Walker holding her had stopped. There were more White Walkers there. A LOT more. Lots of crows too, brothers of the Night’s Watch all kneeling before the very monsters they were sworn to destroy. But the ones she focused on were the two at the head of the massive group.

A male White Walker with a crown of horns jutting out of his skull… and a female White Walker, covering her face with one hand and cradling her pregnant belly with the other.

“Father… mother. I uh… I’m back. A-and look! I brought a bride too, just like you wanted!”

Lyanna’s striking blue eyes widened as she looked back and forth between her sheepish sounding kidnapper and the White Walkers he’d just identified as his parents. Silence reigns for all of a single moment before she fills it with her voice.

“You most certainly did NOT!”

-x-X-x-

Is it bad to admit that I really have no clue what to do here?  Nah, it’s fine so long as it stays in the confines of my own mind, away from the hundreds of mental bonds with my family, my White Walkers, and my Chosen. Totally fine under those circumstances. And I’ve gotten very good at compartmentalizing. I stare at Rickar and the girl he’s kidnapped. Lady Lyanna Stark of Winterfell. Fuck me, did he HAVE to make my words to my Queen so damn true?

At least so far, MY Lyanna is merely facepalming, rather than exploding again. On the other hand, HIS Lyanna is filling the air quite nicely with her angry words.

“You can’t just kidnap someone and then marry them! That’s not how it fucking works beneath the Wall you damn monster!”

“It worked for my parents!”

And there it is. Rickar is… really not helping right now. My nostrils flare and my eyes squeeze shut, even as I feel my Queen’s glowing blue eyes boring into the side of my head intensely. Right, yes. It’s my fault if my son thinks that kidnapping a bride is okay, because I did it first and set a bad example, yada yada yada…

More than anything though, I had to speak my mind.

“Your name girl. Your name is… Lyanna?”

The human woman’s eyes snap to me and while I can see the fear in them as I stare at her, she manages to keep her lips from quivering as she glares me down. Admirable.

“Yes! What of it?”

Rickar looks a bit stricken and I can feel the eyes of my dear, loving Queen leave me and focus on her son. Ah, sweet relief from that evil, evil gaze. My son raises his arms and waves them back and forth.

“I-I swear I didn’t know her name until now! I just knew she was Lady Stark!”

Finally, my Queen speaks.

“How could you not know Rickar?! How could you spend MONTHS in the south, MONTHS traipsing across the sea with this one’s brother and NOT LEARN HER NAME?!”

“… It never came up?”

At this point, the Lady Stark (the CURRENT Lady Stark) is clearly somewhat confused.

“What does my name have to do with ANY of this?! Can we focus on the part where I was kidnapped to apparently become a White Walker’s BRIDE?!”

I consider stepping in, but before I can do so, my Queen does it for me, letting out a sigh and moving forward, her hand spread open as she walks up to a suddenly stiff Lady Stark. The original Lyanna Stark looks down at her namesake.

“I apologize my child, for the actions of my son. He did what he did rashly and without thought, but not out of maliciousness or evil intent. He is a good boy, merely… misguided. I am the Night Queen. The one you see behind me is the Night King. Two thousand years ago, I was Lyanna Stark, Lady of Winterfell and sister to Brandon the Builder, first King of Winter.”

It’s a toss-up, whether or not the new Lyanna is going to believe the old one or not. But as she stares in abject shock up at my Queen’s face, I can see the moment she accepts it as true. To be fair, while my Lyanna is an ethereal beauty the likes of which not even the most beautiful human can match, she is essentially an inverse of a Stark woman with her white hair and blue skin. If I transformed the new Lyanna into a White Walker here and now, she and my Queen would no doubt look like twins.

… Did my son have a complex for his mother? My brow furrowed at the thought. Incest was wrong, both in my former world and this one given the shit that went down in canon because of it. But was it wrong between White Walkers? Maybe it didn’t matter, so long as Rickar stuck to finding women that LOOKED like my Queen, rather than actually trying to tap his own mother’s ass.

“Y-you’re Lyanna Stark? The one who disappeared beyond the Wall at the end of the Long Night? How is that possible?!”

My Queen lets out another long-suffering sigh and looks back over her shoulder at me as I stand there, the perfect picture of outward stoicism.

“I was kidnapped by the Night King Lady Stark. He transformed me into a White Walker and made me his Queen. So, you can probably see why my darling Rickar thought it okay to take you from your home as he did. There is precedent… but this is still wrong. You will be released and allowed to return to Winterfe-“

“No.”

The word slipped out of my mouth and silence fell over the courtyard as everyone froze up except for my Queen, who whirls on me, glowing blue eyes wide with fury.

“NO?!”

I simply shake my head in the negative.

“She has seen the new Night’s Watch for what they are. Mine. She has learned much about us. Too much. We’re leaving now to return to the Land of Always Winter and she is coming with us.”

Surprisingly, it’s not my Queen who responds, but Rickar.

“Father, Theon Stark will follow us north if we do that! He will not stop at the Wall, not when his sister is on the line. They call him the Hungry Wolf for a reason! Our best chance is to hold here and fight him off here. Surely the Wall, if turned against him and his army, can repel him.”

I sneak a glance at Lady Lyanna Stark, who looks absolutely horrified by the very idea, as if just now realizing how insanely bad it is for them that what looks like the entire Night’s Watch has been suborned by me. I end up lifting her spirits a bit, even as I dash Rickar’s hopes.

“No, my son. The Wall was not made to defend from the south. The castles and forts are all along the southern side. The lifts and staircases are as well. The Night’s Watch will allow Theon Stark and his armies to come North. We will deal with them there.”

My Queen still looks angry and combative while her young, still-human doppelganger looks a bit panicked.

“Deal with them? Deal with them how? How will you DEAL WITH MY BROTHER?!”

I give Lady Lyanna Stark my nicest smile. Considering the way she blanches, it still comes off as terrifying. Curse my forever monstrous face.

“Peacefully, if possible. My plans do not involve the death of your brother Lady Stark. My plans also did not involve him marching on the Land of Always Winter in a bid to get you back, but that seems to be where we’re at.”

“Father, what about the wi-.”

“Quiet, boy. Rickar, I love you dearly, but do not finish that sentence. I will not even consider it.”

Rickar falls silent, sullen and confused. I had good reasons for not bringing millions of undead down from the True North to the Wall in order to make it a truly impassable barrier, even from the south. To start with, even now the Free Folk were willing to ignore what I’d done to the Night’s Watch’s last ranging. They were mortal enemies after all, and I’d sent the reanimated corpses further north the instant I’d had them stripped of their black cloaks.

But while I could assemble an army of a million undead and simply station them along the Wall to keep Theon out, if I DID do that, it would end any chance of keeping ANY of this under wraps. The North would know that the Wall was compromised and the Free Folk would be forced to confront the dark, dark question that had long since been lurking in the back of their minds.

No, the millions upon millions of wights I had in the True North were a trump card to end all trump cards. If I was going to use them, I may as well simply sweep south and take all of Westeros here and now, put it all under my rule and control everything with a fist made of cold, undeath. That wasn’t my desire though. I wasn’t the fucking Lich King or whatever.

Letting out an exasperated breath, I look about. Rickar is upset at me. Lyanna is upset at me. Lyanna 2.0 is terrified, but also upset at me. Good, they can all be upset at me together, in the north, where I can figure out how the fuck I’m ultimately going to deal with Theon motherfucking Stark.

“We’re going.”

Everyone obeys without another word, though I can tell my Queen will certainly have more words for me later on. Lady Lyanna Stark is the only one who stays rather vocal, screaming expletives and curses as she’s carried off by White Walkers, my Queen trailing behind her and Rickar trailing behind his mother in turn, his head hung low.

I look to the young man I’d made Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. The joy of the mark is that I do not have to explain my desires out loud. All five thousand Free Folk posing as members of the Night’s Watch already know what I want from them. Still, common courtesy dictates that I say SOMETHING. I settle for a nod to the young Lord Commander.

“I expect my will to be carried out to the letter on this my Chosen. I know that I can count on you.”

The men of the new Night’s Watch are still kneeling all around me, but as I finish speaking, I can feel a wave of love and devotion pass through their marks. It might as well be a cheer, it certainly gives me a nice heady feeling.

Well, at least I still have the loyalty of my cultists, right? Letting out a dry chuckle, I shake my head and turn to follow my family back beyond the Wall. The toothy smile on my face fades the moment that I realize a simple, fundamental fact.

I still don’t know what to do next.