꧁~~~Benget Stark~~~꧂
꧁~~~298 After Conquest~~~꧂
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꧁The eyes of each member of the Night's Watch nearly made his skin crawl. Nearly made him deck someone across the face just for looking at him the way they did. Many of them never liked him or Jon to begin with. But now, seeing as how the Lord Commander gave them leave, actual letting them go, something that was unheard of in the history of the Watch, they hated the twins even more than they already did.
He was dressed in black once more, from head to toe, he was wearing black. From his boots, his trousers and thick blouse and leather jerkin, to his gloves and the cloak, he felt like a crow. Literally. A crow.
But of it were possible to he a black sheep amongst Black Brothers, than Ben surely felt that way. In the rather short time that he had been gone, the people he had helped guide and train to at least gain a better understanding of what they were doing in swordplay became strangers. He knew their names, and they knew his. And for that, they seemed to hate him. He had already offered to help in anyway he could, trying once more a second time a short while later, only to be given the same answer.
So now, Ben did not know what to do. He was a steward, technically. To be Jeor Mormont's personal steward and squire alongside Jon, to arm him in battle, to gather his letters and sort his papers, to change his sheets and prepare his baths. A glorified wet nurse is more like it.
The snows fell just a little bit harder than it had since coming here. Ben knew that atop the Wall, the wind was howling like wolves, roaring like dragons and with just the same power as them, too. He were lucky to be on the ground. Some luck, he thought to himself, I'd rather be up there, flying away from all of this..
"Benget Stark."
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Ben turns to the voice, eyeing the older man approaching him, a thick head of hair on his head and a beard to match it, with tired brown eyes that do well at not showing it look into his own violet.
"Ser Jaremy."
Ben nods out of respect, knowing who the man was. He had attended the swearing of his oath alongside Jon and Samwell. In the stead of his uncle, Ser Jaremy Rykker was the acting First Ranger.
"Come along, lad. The Lord Commander wishes to speak with you in his offices."
Ben nods, figuring that might've been the case. Being his personal steward should have been a big indicator of that. And so, Benget walks alongside the experienced Ranger, silence settling between them for a long while before Ben looks up to his voice.
"How was it?"
Ben raises a brow.
"What?"
"How was it, fighting the ones who helped destroy the House of the Dragon?"
Coming to a stop, Ser Jaremy stands in front of Ben, blocking the entrance of the Lord Commander's tower as Ben only feels confused.
"Ser?"
"I can see you're confused... I was born and raised in Duskendale, nearly lived there my whole life not seeing a thing...but then the one the Usurper-sucking sons of bitches called "Mad King" was brought there in irons."
Ben nods slowly, knowing what the Defiance of Duskendale was. It was thought to be one of the reasons of the many on the list of why Aerys II Targaryen snapped. Why he went mad.
"You see, I saw some of the things they did to King Aerys there, heard the screams at night... All of it for lower taxes and fucking fees of portage.."
The exiled knight scoffs, and Ben pieces it together.
"You fought for the Targaryens. You were one of the Loyalists."
"Aye, there's a smart lad. Half the men here, the experienced ones that is, fought for King Aerys, including Ser Alliser Thorne. Tywin of the House of gold-shitting lions...he turned on Aerys."
Ben looks at the man, sympathy in his eyes. The Mad King was a monster, he knew. He murdered his grandfather, burning him alive whilst his Uncle Brandon strangled himself trying to reach his sword just out of grasp. It was right in front of him, salvation, freedom. But it slipped through his grasp. His own father slipped through his grasp as did his life. Ben nearly shutters at the thought of what must've been going through their minds.
But he could see the things running through Ser Jaremy's mind, seeing a deep-seated anger that has never quite gone away.
"Him and his gold-shitting son stabbed him the back and gave the ones of us who survived the Sacking of King's Landing the honor of the Watch or the sword... You have no idea how many of my friends chose the sword."
He chuckles bitterly, shaking his head as the exiled knight looks up into the bleak sky for a moment, as though he could see his friends watching down on him.
"I guess we'll only see what is to come when it comes, then we'll see who chose right."
Ser Jaremy says before walking off, leaving Ben to ponder on his words. And he did. And he understood them. He himself faced that choice all be it a different option of "facing the sword." He could've been a damn king--a King. The King of Winter, like his ancestors Torrhen Stark had been the last. And then there was the Watch. The damned Night's Watch, the "honorable" service to the Realms of Men. The irony of that though was the fact that he could not decide which was supposedly the more honorable, the Night's Watch, or the Realms of Men.
Shaking out of those thoughts, Ben turns back and begins to ascend the Lord Commander's tower, walking along the two and a half dozen spiraling staircase that led to his offices. And he reaches the door, seeing that it is closed, and only markings on the door greets him. From top to nearly the bottom, long and deep cuts aligned nearly perfectly straight mark the door. He had learned that each mark represented a different Lord Commander of the Night's Watch.
"997..."
Benget mutters, hand tracing some of the markings.
"Is that what they become in the end? Only a mere marking on the door with no name to remember them, their deeds cast away into the winds?"
So many stories are right there on that door. Stories of men who gave everything to a cause, men reluctant to lead, men who died cowardly, men who lead cowardly, and men who died with true honor. He could tell which mark was the freshest one, noticing it with his eyes as he traces the mark of the Old Bear. Ben could only hope that when he dies some day, the Old Bear would be the one who's story ended in true honor, and not cowardess or fear. He'd really have to think of a song for the 997 Lord Commanders of the Night's Watch.
The tracing on the markings turn into a knock as Ben could hear a voice on the other side to come on in, and he does so. Opening the seemingly ancient door into the ancient tower of the ancient order, Benget's eyes land on the man who is nearly ancient himself, the cold, yet saddened and sympathetic look shown clearly on his face and his eyes.
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"Sit down."
He only says quietly, offering a hand out and motioning to the seat in front of his desk. Ben does so quietly, his eyes holding a nearly blank gaze in their violet, staring into the brown eyes of the Old Bear. Jeor Mormont sighs heavily, looking at Benget sadly.
"Your father.."
He starts and then pauses, seeing how Ben flinched ever so slightly, even if he was very good at hiding the things that bothered him. And that very much bothered him.
"Even after he called for the death of my son...he was still the best man I've ever come to have known."
"You're speaking in past tense as though he has been gone for a long time.."
Benget mutters, leaning forward in the chair and bowing his head, closing his eyes and sighing heavily.
"I know he's dead... I can almost see it in my mind's eye, amongt other things I see."
"Lord Eddard was one of the few in the North who understood what the Watch represents, it's importance and it's need in the protection of the Realm."
Ben nods, sitting back up as he rests his chin on his hand, his arm holding him up on the armrest. Jeor leans back in his seat, taking the cup of ale from the table with him, but his raven only squawks, Corn! Corn! and he nearly through the bird across the room, but took out bits of corn from the last harvest and tosses it across the room, hoping to be relieved from the damn bird.
"Damn bird never knows when to shut up."
"Shut up! Corn! Corn!"
Ben chuckles lightly as the Old Bear only sighs at his mocking little bird. But soon, Ben's chuckle dies, his thoughts only having been relieved from the pain but for a moment. He sighs heavily, eyes still staring at the raven across the room as it pecks at the corn the Lord Commander had thrown.
"Did you find what you were looking for down there?"
Ben looks back, titling his head in confusion.
"I was looking for something?"
"Aye, you were. You went South in search of something, did you find it?"
The Old Bear asks again, and Ben remains quiet to the question as he thinks on it for a long few moments. Ultimately, Ben found pain, but condolence and healing. He found his father's death, but a mother's love. In all reality, Ben almost wasn't sure what he was even searching for when he went. His heart tugged him to go, told him that everything would fall apart if he didn't. But now that he is back, what would happen then?
Oh, the questions that would be left unanswered would linger forever in his mind, he knew. And if he managed to find an answer to one, another question would take its predecessor's place.
Ben only gives a nod with silence as an answer, and Jeor Mormont takes that, and not adding anything else to it. The silence eats away at the cold air, the hearth's flame flickering as the wood slowly burns to nothing but ash that would later be used for the pathways around Castle Black to combat the ice and snow. That would be one of his duties whilst here; shoveling shit, metaphorically and literally.
"I also here that you were crowned King in the North for but a few minutes."
Jeor remarks after a while, and Ben nods, sighing before chuckling lightly.
"Yeah.."
"And because of that, and the battle that was the Whistling Wood, half the Realm calls for your head and the other cheers your name."
"It wasn't my intention to become King."
Ben replies, raising a brow as to question where the Lord Commander was going. Reaching into his cloak, Jeor pulls out a piece of parchment, setting it down in front of Ben on the desk.
"Read that."
And so he does. Ben slowly takes the obvious letter, looking at the Old Bear confused before beginning to read the words. They were written in crimson ink, but it makes him wonder if it were blood. And he knew the words were meant to intimidate, to scare him. But Ben only scoffs, shaking his head as he sets the paper down.
"She really wishes me dead."
He remarks, rather than questions, as Benget knew all too well how much the Lioness of Lannister wanted him dead.
"That she does. And this boy-king, Joffrey. He calls for me to behead you and your brother from breaking your Night's Watch vows."
"If I am right, we didn't technically break them. We came back. That's no different than the officers under your command sneaking off to the whore house in Moles Town."
Jeor Mormont scoffs, shaking his head as the older man, though sitting down the same as Ben, towers over him.
"You meddeled in the wars and politics of the South, not visiting some back-alley Sally from Stony Sept. You actively fought against the Crown, a Crown, mind you, that actively supplies the Night's Watch so that it might survive and shield the Realms of-"
"And yet here I stand."
Ben once more twisted words that meant something to Mormont and turned them around on him. This time, his own House words. Holding his look on Ben, Jeor shakes his head.
"Here I stand after fighting one of the greatest victories since the Field of Fire, after capturing one of the greatest fighters alive whom also is the son prodigal son of Tywin Lannister, insured the North would be lead by someone worthy and just to lead them, and then came back. I could've had everything. Everything that you did not. Glory, a name, a crown...Hell, if I were still in the South, I would've taken the Iron Throne and burned it...
"But I didn't. Honor compelled me back. Despite my father no longer drawing breath from this earth, I will continue to heed his words and live by them as best I can. Honor only matters in the eyes of the beholder. You fight and you survive, nothing else matters. Choices.."
Ben pauses from his small speech to the Mormont, pausing and looking to the floor for a long moment before looking back up.
"Choices are all that any of us have in this life. Choices to live or die, to fight or stay, love or hate. Choices have consequences."
He stands from his seat, leaning his fists on the desk, staring directly into Jeor Mormont's eyes withouth any ounce of fear or hesitation.
"And whatever the consequences be for my actions, I will accept them. But mark my words..if the consequences at all revolve around Jon..."
Ben tilts his head, giving a look that demands attention, that demands to be heard heeded. And if it were not, then there would be consequences. Looking at the Violet Wolf with a semblance of cold pride, Jeor Mormont nods and Ben leans back, breathing out as his heart beats faster than he would have thought it would.
And so, Ben turns to leave, walking past the raven of the Old Bear as it stood surprisingly quiet, seemingly enthralled by his words, stunned to silence. And just as his fingers graze the door, the words the Old Bear stop him.
"Since you have come back to..resume your duties...I need you and your wolf to locate the rest of that body out there."
Ben turns, raising a brow.
"I doubt Frost can track a thirty day plus trail, if there was one to begin with."
"That wolf of yours found an arm, there's got to be more than that. Find them, and bring them back. That isn't a question."
Ben stares for a long moment, realizing how he is trapped. In his entire life, throughout it all, Ben had slowly come to the realization that he's trapped. He would've been trapped leading, and now he is trapped following. Nodding wordlessly, Ben turns back to the door with 997 marks and leaves, going to get ready for the hunt.
꧁~~~Jon Stark~~~꧂
꧁"So what was it like? Killing, I mean... How did it feel?"
Samwell asked, and Jon paused from his resumed duties helping Sam and the other stewards around Castle Black. His eyes turn into a far off stare, and Jon could almost hear the clashing of steel and the roaring of men and war-horses alike. He could feel his sword in his hand after the wrhammer was knocked from his grip, getting lost in the mud and blood of that valley.
Looking back to Sam, Jon nearly shutters whilst shaking his head.
"We shouldn't talk about these things."
"My father talks about.."
Sam trails off slightly, a sharp saddened expression being worn for but a moment before shrugging.
"My father talked about war quite often. He always said that before going to war, a boy is iron. And when he comes out of it, he is steel."
"Did your father forget to mention the fact that three-quarters of those pieces of iron will never turn to steel after the deed is done?"
Jon asks quietly, having been quiet for some time. It was hard to talk about to him. It was hard to stomach that fact that he had killed.
Sighing heavily, Jon shakes his head, stopping what he was doing as he stands, eyes looking at the ceiling above him.
"I don't know if I told you this, but on our way to the Wall the first time with my uncle Benjen, we strayed from the group with Lord Tyrion Lannister to go on a short hunt of sorts. But coming back, within our path stood seven men, all with knives, some with swords and another with a bow.."
Jon tells the story, remembering it almost to the exact detail. And so he explains it in exact detail, all from Ben stepping forward in a fain surrender, reaching to his side and launching his dagger forward into a man's throat, to drawing the Dawn and cutting through the men like nothing. And at the end of the story, Jon pauses, closing his eyes for a moment whilst grimacing.
"What else? What is it, Jon?"
Sam asks, the Tarly still too curious for his own good, but concerned for his friend that came back. Jon sighs, opening his eyes as he clenches his fist, eyes landing on his sword at his waist.
"One of the men that attacked us was crawling away after Ben had slaughtered them... I took my sword, even though my brother told me to stay back, and I plunged it into the dying man's back so many times before Ben finally stopped me."
And this time, Samwell doesn't ask another question as Jon shakes his head, looking away.
""That is not how you went your sword," he said to me, and he was angry. But he also was..disappointed? I think if anything that day, he was disappointed in himself more so than me."
"Himself?"
The Tarly asks, and Jon nods, glancing towards the window, seeing the frost covering it like a shield of ice as he sighs.
"He's always been good like that. He protected me and my siblings before, you know. In the Wolfswood, we were ambushed by some strange man that stood as tall as a bear, I swear to you. And Ben gave himself up in my sister's place to save our hides... but he never talked about it after, not if he could help it."
Jon nods, looking away from the window back into Sam's eyes.
"The point being.."
He clears his throat, rubbing his eyes for a moment.
"The point being, is that my older twin is the greatest man I know. You protects his family at the expense of himself. He takes no crowns, or wins no glory. He's just himself. And I'm glad that he'll always be the one to save me whenever I do something stupid and end up needing saving."
Jon chuckles warmly whilst Samwell smiles, nodding as the two continue their duties once more in conversation about this and that.
꧁~~~Benget Stark~~~꧂
꧁"The Old Bear gave us a mission nearly impossible, ya know. At the rate we are going, your beast will lead us to Craster's Keep before we find a thing worth finding."
"Nobody asked for your opinion on the matter, Tanner."
The man of Gin Alley had shut up to Ser Jaremy's words, allowing Ben to finally concentrate. Looking at the snows, no visible tracks showed themselves. They were nearly twelve miles out, nine past the heart tree where Frost and Ghost had found the arm and brought it to them. The men of the Night's Watch had thrown the arm away over the Wall, and so Ben had to spend some time trying to find the arm before going, having looked a few miles for it before finding it completely frozen. He had warmed it up with fire, not to the extent to burn or melt it, but to thaw it out for Frost to catch a better sent. And right now, the massive direwolf was leading them pretty far away.
"The beast is lost."
"Shut it, Karl."
"The Old fuckin' Bear should ought to be out here himself commanding this thing as this is turning out to be a great ranging."
Ben turns sharply, snapping his fingers for just a second to get Frost to stop as he steps towards the older man, jabbing a finger into his chest.
"Shut your fucking mouth!"
"Or what, boy!? Do you have an idea who I am?"
"Some cutthroat, gutter-rat, scummy piece of shit that was thrown out from some presents chamber pot in King's Landing from what I can tell."
Ben remarks, and the actual cutthroat takes a step forward, eyes narrowed and face showing madness, his hands itching towards his daggers.
"Oi, enough, both of ya!"
Ser Jaremy stepped in front of the two, pushing Karl Tanner back as Ben glared at the man, and Tanner glaring right back all the same.
"You people tolerate this fucking shit in the Watch? If we were in Gin Alley-"
"Well, we aren't in fucking Gin fucking Alley now, are we? No shut your yap, and get back on the damn trail!"
Orders the exiled knight, but the cutthroat takes a step forward, anger boiling in his eyes as Ben does not stray his own from them, both motions with his hand behind his back to Frost, the direwilf understanding his master's direction as he steps around the group quietly as though he were stalking them down.
"This boy abandons his post and gets a fucking pat on the back for it?"
"He came back, didn't he? Knowing what you are, Tanner, you would've gone straight back to raping and slitting throats in the night. Benget Stark is ten times the man you'll ever be."
Ser Jaremy says in defense of Ben, and Tanner growls. But at the moment he did, the sound of a wolf's growl over came his own, making him freeze in his spot as he slowly turns around with wide eyes as Frost stands directly behind him, his glowing violet eyes piercing his very soul like a spearhead. Stepping backwards slowly, Karl Tanner of Gin Alley comes to a stop as he bumps into someone, and he turns, seeing that someone be Benget Stark with his own glowing violet eyes.
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"It's not a good idea to talk down to the man with the wolf."
Tanner glances between Ben and Frost, swallowing somewhat nervously as he tries to remain firm, the others watching the encounter before them.
"Our vows go against killing other brother's of the Night's Watch."
"Oh, that is very true. But my wolf made no such promises, and you threatened his owner."
Frost growls a low tone growl, taking two steps forward as Tanner trembles ever so slightly more, looking between both wolves, the literal and metaphorical one as he slowly bows his head.
"Forgive me, Stark.."
He says quietly, more embarrassed than ashamed of how he coward down than anything. But Ben only steps forward, looking dead into his eyes.
"I am leading this mission out here whether you like it or not. My wolf is tracking a corpse whether you like it or not. You are no longer in Gin Alley whether you fucking like it or not, so get used to it."
His words were serious, and hard, frozen to the very core. But in such a fast turn, so fast that someone would probably get whiplash, Ben smiles, patting the so called "fuckin' legend" of Gin Alley on the shoulder before turning away.
"Onward, fellow brothers. Northward ho!"
꧁~~~~~~꧂
"Who is it?"
The Old Bear asked as Ben and the others dragged in the corpses of the missing men, one of which is missing an arm. They set them down in the courtyard, a few Black Brothers coming to see what's going on, but the ones inside stick to their work, not paying attention.
"That's Othor."
"And that's Jafer Flowers, m'lord. They were part of Benjen's ranging party."
Ser Jaremy says as Jeor glances at Ben.
"Where did you find them?"
"Just a few miles southeast of Craster's Keep."
"Benjen said that he was going to stop at Craster's before heading off to the Frostfangs with the others. He said he was meeting with some Rangers from Shadow Tower to investigate Wildling disappearances in that area."
The Old Bear mutters, and Ben points to the corpses.
"These men have been dead for a long time, Lord Commander. But I just want to point out the fact there is little to no rot on them."
"How so?"
"He's right, m'lord."
Ser Jaremy says, pointing at the former Rangers of the Night's Watch, now just corpses with eyes that have turned blue.
"If these men have been dead for some time, they would be showing bones...well, poor Flowers is on his arm, but that's beside the point. Even if it gets so cold the winds freeze the Shivering Sea, corpses will still rot."
"Frost lost the trail several times along the way, Lord. He had to smell the arm multiple times just to regain it."
The Old Bear nods, still looking at the corpses in front of him on the sled. He kneels down, his hand grazing over the cold, seemingly frozen skin of the dead man's hand before rubbing his fingers in thought.
"We should burn them, Commander. Say a few words and burn the dead."
"Stark is right, m'lord. Fire will do for them. The Wildling Way."
Jeor only keeps his eyes on the blue eyes of Othor and Jafer. But the thing being, Othor had brown eyes and Jafer had green. Even if a man dies, a severance of his eye color remains last the bloodshot, dead look in them. But these eyes are blue, and they almost seem to glow in their own sort of way.
Sighing, the Old Bear shakes his head.
"I want Maester Aemon to examine them first before we doing anything else."
The others nod and begin to take away the bodies while the Commander glances at Ben.
"You should get inside, get some rest, Benget Stark. Gods known you need, and don't try to kid yourself or I."
꧁~~~Jon Stark~~~꧂
꧁"So, I was saying before, that girl had hair that was fire and-"
"You never fucked a girl with red hair, let alone ever fucked anybody."
Pyp and Grenn go back in forth in the kitchens whilst Jon continues slicing the meat for that night's stew. Jon chuckles, stopping and pointing the knife at Grenn.
"You wouldn't be able to handle a redhead, Grenn."
"Oh, and you would? Have you ever even been with a girl?"
"Yeah, totally.."
Jon trails off slightly, and Grenn grins, chuckling as Pyp turns from Grenn to Jon, sharing the same grin.
"Stark here is a virgin."
"Oi, I am most certainly not a virgin!"
The door to the kitchens swings open, and everyone turns to see Ben walk in with the largest grin imaginable. He points at Jon.
"But that Stark most certainly is. Even our little brother is getting some whilst Jon is lacking the packing."
"Ben!"
"What? I'm just kidding."
He steps forward and embraces Jon for a moment before backing off, that grin still ever present on his lips.
"How you boys fairing?"
He asks, walking up to the table and grabbing a carot, taking a bite as he leans against the table. Sam shrugs.
"As well as we can be."
"That's good. Grenn, how's the wrist?"
"Mostly better. It would've been better if Jon hadn't hit it so damn hard."
"I said I was sorry-"
"I know you did. And I thank you for that."
Grenn cuts off Jon, a smile on his lips as the small group of friends smile with one another as well. But the sound of the door opening across the hall ruins the fun, the voice that followed making it disappear into the approaching winter winds.
"Now there's a rare sight to see. A traitor's boy and his brother. We don't get many of you up here on the Wall, let alone oathbreakers who's names are Stark."
Ben looks at Ser Alliser, a calm anger in his eyes as Jon clenches his knife, digging into the thick stag he had been cutting as he tries so hard not to snap. But Ser Alliser only steps closer, a smirk on his own lips as he approaches.
"You run away from Winterfell to come here, only to run away back because you were homesick? What? Didn't find our accommodations fancy enough for your liking, Dayne?"
He mocks, and Jon stops cutting, and he glances at Ben. Ben stood to his feet as silent as could be, shaking his head and telling him not to do it by the simple action. Oh, but Jon wasn't going to heed that advice. And in one quick motion, Jon swung the blade out of the dead stag and twisted it around to stab down onto Ser Alliser, yelling out in anger. But Jon barely got a few inches from the master-at-arms' neck before the others nearly piled onto him, shouting for him to drop the knife and back off.
Ben pushes past Ser Alliser, pushing the others back as he holds Jon back with a hand.
"Jon, enough."
"But he--"
"Enough!"
Ben warns with a stern voice, and Jon relents, stopping as he sighs, but an intense gaze still held with a glare towards the former Targaryen Loyalist.
"Blood will always tell. Clearly a traitor's blood runs through his veins, same as yours, Benget Stark."
Jon watches Ben turns around slowly, eyes forming into a glare as he takes slow and calculated steps forward, fists clenched at his sides so tight that they could crush anything in their grasp.
"You keep your looks, sneers and remarks on a short leash, Ser."
"Or what?"
"I'll fucking hang you with it!"
His brother stands up to the horrible older man, getting up in his face, even though the knight stands taller than the one who was meant to be king. Everyone including Jon watches the encounter before them, some choosing a side in their minds in case a fight had broken out. But seeing how Ben was never going to back down, even if he were sentenced to death, he would never back down. And seeing this, Ser Alliser scoffs, turning sharply and walking away.
Ben looks back at Jon, shaking his head. Jon looks to the floor in shame, understanding the disappointment in his brother's eyes. He reacted harshly. He acted without thinking for a moment of what might come if he did kill the cruel bastard. But he knew the man should die.
"I told you not do anything stupid, boy."
Jon and Ben both look behind them, seeing the Old Bear standing there with an equally disappointed look as Ben had moments before.
"Lord Commander-"
Ben had started in defense of Jon, but Jeor only steps forward, shaking his head.
"I gave you both chances--choices and this is what you do? Openly attack and threaten a brother of the Night's Watch."
"He was lying about our father-"
"He was having a go at you, trying to see if you'd snap, and you did!"
The Mormont cuts him off, silencing him as Jeor looks to the ground for a moment, shaking his head.
"Both of you are confined to a shared quarters, go. I won't here another word of it tonight."
Jon glares for a long moment before storming out, Ben watching him go away before soon joining behind him.
꧁~~~Benget Stark~~~꧂
꧁Of course, Jon was furious, and Ben only half-listened to his rants. He went off about how much of a right, lying son of a bitch that was Ser Alliser and saying how maybe he should be beheaded instead. But Ben laid on the small bed, lying there as Jon paced around the room.
"Jon, just lay down and get some sleep. It's going to be a long day tomorrow and-"
"And for the next many, I know, I get it. You told me that when we first got here."
"And those words still hold up. Now get to sleep."
Jon turns to Ben sharply, a glare held unintentionally in his eyes towards Ben.
"How can you just take this lying down while that fucker still--"
"I take it lying down for the sake of you, Jon."
Ben cuts him off, opening his eyes and looking at his little brother with a calm but stern look yet again.
"Tomorrow will be the same shit, only a different day. And if you keep reacting the way you do, what can I do when the whole Night's Watch decides they've had enough of the attitude?"
He questions, and Jon goes silent. Ben watches as Jon sighs, crossing his arms and looking to the floor not saying anything, so Ben only presses on.
"I'd go to war for you, Jon. I went to war for Robb and for Father. And no matter what you do, I'll always fight for you, always... But don't do anything that would force my hand again."
Jon stares at Ben, sadness in his eyes as he nods.
"Alright.."
He says quietly and goes to lie on the bed across the room, and Ben finally slumps his head back against the terribly uncomfortable pillow that he doesn't mind at all, closing his eyes. And yet despite closing his eyes, Ben doesn't sleep. Not yet.
After what felt like hours, he finally heard Jon move from his own bed and walk towards the door. For the past twenty minutes he had heard Ghost and Frost clawing at the door trying to get out, so Ben figured that Jon was just taking them both outside. He knew he wouldn't do anything too stupid or reckless
He hoped, at least.
And then for a while, he felt nothing but darkness around him. The kind of darkness where one could not sense a thing, feeling nothing. The nothingness of sleep. But it only stayed that way for a short while, and Ben found himself in a different kind of darkness.
The darkness of the crypts underneath Winterfell.
"Home..?
He knew he was dreaming, but it felt so real. And so, he begins to walk forward, feeling as though he were really there. The faces of long dead kings stare back at him, their wolves' heads following him. But then a figure that was not a statue steps out from the wall, and Ben squints his eyes to try and see down the ways.
"Hello?"
He calls out, and the figure turns sharply within the darkness, and even from the distance and the darkness, Ben could see grey and blue merged together and his own violets widen with shock.
"Father?"
But he turns and runs into the darkness, and the shock wears off and Ben begins chasing after him.
"Father, wait!"
But his father was too fast for him, and soon, after what felt like hours and hours of running, Ben drops to his knees, harshly drawing in a cold breath one at a time, panting heavily as he nearly begins to cry.
"Father.."
He looks up, tears in his eyes as he looks ahead at the once more silent and empty crypt, the man sound filling it were his heavy breathing and slow falling tears. Ben sits up, pushing back and leaning against a statue he did not care to look at. He memorized all of their names and the wolves they supposedly had. All the Starks. From Torrhen the Last King of Winter to Bran the Builder, they were all down here. But in a way, even if he were Stark, he felt like a stranger in the resting place of his ancestors.
Feeling the eurge, Ben stands to his feet, stumbling ever so slightly as his eyes wander down the long passageways, a few candles lining the wall every few paces. And that's when his eyes land on a statue, and he looks at it with recognition. Though he were not a King of Winter, Brandon Stark was put here in the crypts all the same, as well as Ben's grandfather, Rickard. But then his eyes widen, and he turns to his side to the statue he had been leaning on.
Lyanna.
But before he could begin to grasp what happened next, it had already happened. A hand bursts through the thick rock of the coffee underneath the statue, and Ben stumbles backwards as his eyes widen in shock. Throughout the crypt, he watched as long dead hands of kings of winter's past begin to wake up.
The only thing Ben thought to do was run. And so he did. He ran and he ran, running past so many vaults and do many dead kings, running from it all as sweat laced his brow. But then when Ben listened around him, the crumbling of rocks the horrendous sound and smell of the dead had dissipated. Stopping in his tracks, Ben turns around, and he sees he's no longer in the crypt of Winterfell, but he could see towers heading up into the sky and voices singing with cheer and drunkenness.
"The trout, the trout, the trout in the towers,
The wolves dropped the fish,
'N they all ran away!"
The singing rings out, the night sky showing down upon the raging party that must've been happening. But as he stares at the Tower, he sees a shadow casted upon the walls of it from flickering torches. Someone is being carried, and there head is no longer there.
"Two weddings, two beddings,
Brought on by beheadings,
A night in me cups for me!
Two weddings, two beddings,
Brought on by beheadings,
Yet all ends happily!
All ends happily!"
Ben could not help but feel sick as he sees shadows of wolves dance on the walls of the tower, fish raining down on them. They seemed alive and happy, but then the fish turned to knives, and the wolves turned to dead and sad. But he had not a moment to further process as he pukes up his earlier dinner, and it kept coming out.
He choked and choked, tears training his eyes as he felt as though his throat was strangling him itself, wrapping invisible fingers around and squeezing and constricting. He fell down to his knees as the chanting of the song rings around in his ears, and he crawled to the water in the river. By then, Ben felt blood running down his nose, and he coughs up the same crimson liquid that leaked his nose. He crawled and he crawled, until he reached the water. And there, he sees his violet eyes turn bloodshot, his face taking the color of purple as he finally felt himself drop down.
But then, Ben felt himself lurch forward, gasping for breath as he greedily sucks in the much needed air. But then he coughs violently, sounding as though he were an old man rattling off before his death. And only after a few minutes, he calms himself down.
"What the fuck.."
He chokes out, still breathing heavily as Ben looks around him to see he to longer saw a tower or a river, and neither was he in the crypts of Winterfell. He was somewhere so warm that the sweat only increased around his body. He tugged off his gloves and dropped them. He unlaced the first top part of his black leather jerkin, but it did little to help him.
Ben could feel sand beneath his feet. The last time he felt sand under his own feet was in Dorne when he had been there last. But it has been what felt like a lifetime ago. And if sand could be different than other plots of sand, then this would be. It felt...different. It wasn't Dornish, and the general feel around him wasn't Westerosi. It felt strange. It felt wrong.
But looking around the seemingly endless desert, Ben's eyes land on a stack of wood. Or what could somewhat pass as a stack. It looked like whatever it was, it was crudely constructed, only having been put together with twigs, branches, dry grass and whatever else somebody could put it together with.
"What is.."
But then he could see a body on top, and he knew what it was. A funeral pyre. But when he approached the pyre, his eyes widen when he looks down at the body, and he sees himself.
"Wha-"
But Ben could not even utter his next thoughts as fire erupted from the pyre, and he screams as it engulfs him. But to his surprise, the fire only hurt for but a few moments. Though the moments were excruciatingly painful, Ben felt the fire around him suddenly burned even brighter and stronger within his chest, his heart and in his mind. He feels fire burning through his very veins, but to his surprise, it felt comforting. It felt warm.
But then Ben falls back from the warmth and care of the pyre, and he finds himself staring into eyes that were not human. They were not the eyes of a wolf, or a fish. They were not the eyes of stags or lions, snakes or krakens, but..
"Dragons.."
And as soon as the word slipped out of his mouth, the mighty beast of legend releases a roar so powerful, and Ben lurches forward with a shout, finally seeing that it was all just a dream.
Ben pants, feeling exhausted, energized, confused and in pain all at once. The fire he felt in his blood, the warmth and care it seemed to hold was now sapped away, and he felt himself again. He felt cold, however. Looking over across the room, Ben notices that Jon was not back yet.
"Jon?"
He calls out, voice raspy at first before he coughs slightly.
"Jon?"
He says again, this time with a louder voice, his eyes searching for his little twin but finds nothing. Standing on wobbly legs, Ben snatches the scabbard of the Baratheon Princess and shoves it through its home in the belt, strapping it around himself before opening his door and into the frigid night air.
The wind almost blows violently. Snow falls, covering the ground before him like a white carpet of cold. And instead of fire, he felt ice in hus veins as he gazes out into the courtyard where Jon would have taken the direwolves.
"Jon."
He say aloud, but the wind kills his words in the air as he steps forward.
"Jon!"
Ben shouted, but there was no other answer than the snow and wind. He curses under his breath, making false promises of kicking his little brother's ass later for being such a little shit for leaving. Could he have left the Watch again? Is this about Father? Oh, gods, if that fucking idiot ran to go and fight...if that were the case, Ben would never forgive himself if Jon was killed in a battle for the Seven Kingdoms. Kingdoms be damned, his brother's life was worth more than that. He just wished Jon could see that.
And suddenly, loud growls and barks come from across the courtyard, and Ben immediately springs into avtion, taking off through the snows to get to it. He finds himself running up the Lord Commander's tower, running through the short hall to find Ghost and Frost slamming into the marked door, barking and howling as someone is clearly fighting on the inside.
"Jon!? Mormont?!"
He shouts and dashes forward.
"Frost, Ghost, get out of the way!"
Ben yells out and the direwolves move, but do not stop barking as Ben lowers his shoulder and slams into the door, hearing the fighting going on on the other side.
"Jon!"
"Ben! There's a fucking corpse trying to kill me!"
Othor.
"Hold on Jon, I'm coming!"
He slams into the door again and again, but it feels as though there is something blocking it on the other side. If it had just been locked, then Ben would have broken through on the first try. But he slams into it again and again, yelling out with frustration.
"Break, damn it!"
"Stark?"
Ben turns sharply, seeing the Lord Commander hold a lantern up behind him.
"Mormont!"
"What's going on?"
"The fucking corpse we brought in is alive!"
"Alive?! No, it's not--"
"IT'S ALIVE AND IS ABOUT TO FUCKING KILL JON!"
Ben nearly loses his shit as the Lord Commander sets the lantern down quickly, rushing forward as Ben steps back. And at the same time, both Stark and Mormont crash into the door, and the heavy object on the other side turned out to be a flipped over desk as they smash the marked door to pieces in one single savage strike.
"Help!"
"Jon!"
Ben stands quickly, and he draws he rushes forward without even drawing his sword. Seeing the former Ranger alive and moving, Ben runs in and throttles him, throwing a savage punch that breaks the man's jaw, sending out a disgusting crack around the room. But to Ben's horror, the dead man only recoiled back and threw a savage strike at Ben himself, knocking him off of his feet and onto the floor. He could use that dragon now.
And while the dead man fell on top of him after knocking Jon away, Ben wrestled with it before looking at Jon while struggling.
"The lamp! Fire!"
He shouts as with all his might, puts his booted foot up to the chest of the dead man and launches him off of himself, crawling awag quickly as Jon snatched the oil lantern from the Mormont with his bare hand, letting out a pained shout before throwing it as the walking dead. And what followed was the most disgusting scream Ben, Jon, and the Mormont have ever heard in either of their lives.
Getting back to his feet, Ben watches for a moment longer as the thing on the floor rolls around, wrapped up in flames as it screams in agony. He turns and rushes with Jon and the Commander out of the room, slamming what remained of the door shut as they continue running to get more help.
And all the while, Ben was thinking, gods, let it burn. Let that thing burn...
꧁~~~A/N~~~꧂
Not as fun as the previous few chapters but I thought this one was very interesting. I've had ideas for the dreams that Ben or Jon would frequently have, and I hope you liked this chapter and all that happened.
In my mind, I've set this story up in acts. Next chapter will be the end of Act 1, which handles the story of the first book/season. And most of the other "acts" of this story will follow that. Just wanted you to know that the next chapter after this one will be the end.
I am super excited for the future of this story, and a lot of that is due to TheGrimmReader_. He's helped me so much throughout this story and without him, this story wouldn't have seen the light of day, so make sure you all check him out.
And thank you so much for all of the support I've been given! Your feedback, positive or negative, honestly means the world to me!! Thanks!!!❤❤