CHP 63: Blubbering Fool? (Patreon)

(A/N: Boredom will kill me before the pain. I spend half the day doped up on pain meds anyway. This one got done a lot faster than the one before it.)

Jon stuck close to the wall of ice beside as they passed by a ridge, groping at gaps that weren't there as he sucked in the chill air again and again, despite not wanting to. A sheer fall awaited him on the other side, into rocky depths that would shatter his bones long before he ever hit the frozen waters of the Milkwater.

Mance Rayder had declared his intent to attack the Wall, with the whole of his force, and as best as Jon could remember, he was camped somewhere along the Milkwater. He found himself feeling grateful for Mance's decision, it meant their journey wouldn't be a long one.

Well... relatively speaking, at least.

They'd travelled for the better part of three days and didn't seem to be any closer to reaching the Wildling camp.

He couldn't make any sense of just why they needed to make the journey in the first place, but Jon had come to accept that it wasn't his place to question such things. He was a bastard, and his companion spoke with the voice of the King himself for any concerned.

Noting a heap of snow along the path, Jon held out a hand, "There's something in the way."

He curiously looked about, then over his shoulder to see his relaxed companion, then past him to check whether their mounts were still following along, and they were. Somehow, his own hadn't run off after seeing the damned beast of a thing Karl called his 'horse'.

Karl cocked his head, pointing a finger at the snow in their way, "You call that a block?"

"We don't know if there's rocks underneath, or even a fall. Better to move around."

"Nah."

Jon had... noticed a few things.

For one, his strange 'companion' looked unbothered in a plain silk tunic and leather breeches. That was something when the chill winds felt as if they were tearing into Jon even with a fur cloak wrapped around him.

Secondly, his companion loved to talk, a lot. At times, like a blubbering fool, then like he was older than Old Nan, and nothing was older than that grumpy old woman with her stories and tales. She'd been there before his father was a babe.

Then there was the measured way he stepped about, traversed terrain veteran brothers of the Watch could not with practised ease. He set up camps faster than Jon ever could, even with all his training.

Jon found himself pulled from his thoughts when Karl clapped his hands and whistled.

"Roach, earn your keep, you lazy sack of shit."

'Roach' grumbled as it strode up to the blockage and opened his maw, spewing flames that melted away the ice within the blink of an eye. Jon stumbled back, startled, and almost found himself slipping if not for his companion's timely push against his back.

"Careful now. I don't wanna find out what that little gremlin sister of yours will do when she finds out I let you get hurt." Karl laughed, stroking Roach's neck as he wordlessly took to leading the way. "Brat was alright with a man being skinned alive."

"Arya?" Jon murmured. "You mean Arya?"

"Oh yeah. She misses you a ton, talks about you all the time... It's almost worrying actually..." Karl scratched his cheek with narrowed eyes. "Sorry, my experience with sibling attachment hasn't been the best so far."

Jon cast a final glance at Roach.

The animal was frightening... but he recalled the chieftain of the Giants, Mag the Mighty, he'd met last time at the wildling camp. The massive grey giant rode a great mammoth, and made the ground tremble with each step.

He doubted much could surprise him after that.

"You have siblings?" Jon asked, curious.

"No not mine. The kids I looked after. One had the other murdered. One wanted to marry his brother. Yes, HIS brother."

"Like the Targaryens," Jon said slowly.

"Yeah. I've been noting some really eerie similarities," Karl nodded to himself. "There's even three hundred miles of poison swamp down South. The Neck, you call it."

Jon nodded confusedly. 

The words died down after that, and the wind picked up, followed by a thick snow that made it tough to see past his own feet. Nature was fickle this far North, Jon had learnt, and it rarely cared for convenience.

Worse off, they were in the Skirling Pass.

Mance Rayder and his Wildlings made camp here, and they cared little for the weather. A fire would draw their attention, and then they would be used as food or worse. That was if they didn't take a wrong step and fall to their deaths first.

"Reminds me of Borealis," Karl said suddenly, still unbothered by the harsh cold. "Say Jon, you think there might be Ice Dragons further up?"

"Better off asking Mance that... if we reach him," Jon grabbed onto solid ice with both gloved hands, struggling to steady himself. "I think we need to stop."

"Sure."

Karl offered no resistance, he moved about randomly, then nodded at a patch in the ground, "Say Jon, what do you do if there's a ton of snow, and no cover?"

"W...hat?"

"You make an igloo. Yes."

"What's-... We need to find cover."

Jon's words fell on deaf ears. Karl parted his lips, but spoke no words, and Jon was forced to doubt all he knew about when an ethereal mist spilled out of his mouth. It coalesced, then exploded into the air around them. An instant later, ice so pure he could peer through it formed around them, holding off the weather fully.

But it seemed his 'strange' companion was far from done, Karl snapped his fingers and a crimson flame flickered into existence. With a flick, he tossed it onto the floor. The flame burred and licked at nothing but snow, growing to the size of a small hearth, before halting in place like a living creature.

The cold seeping into his bones stopped, and the wind that had been digging into his face felt like a distant memory... It felt as if he was back at Castle Black, sitting near a hearth with the brothers of the Watch.

"It's not gonna last long cause, you know," Karl gestured to the fire, "but I reckon we can outlast the storm easy enough."

A Stark wasn't easily startled, and this was true for Jon as well, even if he were a bastard. But he found himself struggling for words at what he'd seen over the span of a few moments.

A man had controlled ice, like the Others, and then created a fire from nothing.

"H-How?" Jon sputtered.

"Eat dragons for as long as I have and you pick up a few tricks."

Eat what?

Ghost whimpered softly, and coiled near Jon as Karl sat down cross-legged. He pulled a flask from his belt, taking a long swig before holding it out to Jon.

"We've got some time to kill. Wanna hear a story about what happened the last time I was in a storm like this?" Karl asked with a toothy smile.

Jon felt like he was a child.

-

Over the next few hours, Jon learnt of a story so strange that he thought himself mad when he started actually believing it.

Of a man who fought an ice-breathing dragon in freezing mists for a full day, and devoured its beating heart when the Sun finally set.

"It's been a while so I can't remember right but I think the only reason it took that long was cause the bastard kept running off after spitting mist at me." Karl complained, shaking his flask over his mouth. "I jumped on him from a cliff at the end."

"Dragons are supposed to be monsters..." Jon said with a plain face, holding his hands near the fire. "You emptied that half an hour ago."

"They are. All high and mighty with their immortality."

"...You said you ate most of them. What does that make you?" Jon sighed. He didn't know how he was meant to behave with the revelation.

On the one hand, it sounded like one of Old Nan's tales for scaring children.

On the other...

Jon's gaze wandered to the still burning crimson fire and the wall of ice around them.

"A good guy," Karl bumped his fist against his chest with a small smile. He made no effort to hide just how proud he was of himself. "It was their own rules anyway. I just made sure their rules died out with them."

Somehow, it all made sense now.

If even a single part of the story had been true, what could a hundred thousand wildlings even hope to do? 

The absurd request didn't seem so absurd anymore.

Jon recalled the rumours regarding the Twins, and the Lannister host, of his brother being aided by some Old God... and found the source sitting across from him, humming to himself.

Ghost riled from his sleep, and raised his head to snarl at the distant shadows brought on by the setting Sun. Trusting the direwolf more than any man, Jon nodded and quickly rose to his feet, moving a hand to the sword at his waist as his eyes scanned their surroundings.

He spotted one near a large rock covered by snow, then two masses of black crouching in the tilting land beside it. 

"You missed some," Karl pointed to the side, dusting his clothes as he rose to his feet. Jon turned to notice two nocked bows aiming for them. "Why do you people keep nocking them? I keep telling you it can be dangerous."

"I need to meet Mance!" Jon called out.

"Jon, they wanna kill us."

How had they even found them amidst a storm?

"The smoke from the fire. And the light... and the weird snow globe," Karl listed off. Smiling amusedly, he finally turned to the Wildlings. "Leave us be. And you can go."

Not in the mood for humour, or mercy, the one behind the rock let out a warcry and all of them came rushing out of hiding. Arrows flew through the air... and Jon realised that the story might not have been drunk ramblings.

Karl grabbed the first arrow, and tossed it back at the bowman with even greater force, burying it in the man's skull. A wildling swung at him with an axe but he stepped aside and tripped the man before sending the unfortunate tumbling into a rocky death.

Hastily, Jon drew his own sword just in time to shirk a sword cutting down on his shoulder. He pulled his dirk and stabbed the man in the neck. When he finally pushed the dead man off himself, Jon noticed that Karl had cut down the remaining two men with his grey longsword.

The last one lost his life to a spectacular brutality that made Jon want to empty his bowels.

Karl had butchered him from shoulder to leg.

Unbothered, he slung his sword back over his shoulder and faced Jon with the same easy smile. "I think we should get going... unless you wanna be a loot goblin? That bow definitely looks nice."

Well... he definitely wasn't like Old Nan.
-

Hope you enjoyed.

Any and all feedback is welcome.

Prime Karl lol