꧁𝑩𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒌꧂
꧁299 𝑨𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕꧂
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THE HALFHAND WAS THERE SITTING BESIDE HIM IN THE SILENCE. Before the Stark and Watchmen was the fire, and they sat in silence. No wind, no winter chill, no stars, nothing. There was nothing but silence and darkness before the Halfhand broke one of them.
"You cannot tame a wild thing, you know."
He spoke as he stared into the flickering flames of silence. Ben only glanced across the fire, knowing that what was before him wasn't real. To prove so, he stuck his hand out toward the flames and felt nothing. No heat, no safety. Nothing.
"You're a smart lad. You knowing that he's fucking with you."
"He doesn't know who he's fucking with.."
Ben muttered quietly as he clenched his fist tightly, the Halfhand chuckling lightly.
"You're a smart lad, Benget Stark. Smarter than all those around you. But let me give you some advice: men don't like other men who believe themselves better than them, let alone actually proving it."
Qhorin Halfhand of the Shadow Tower chuckled as leaned back, crossing his arms as he sniffled just a bit, making himself comfortable with a smile.
"Daggers for you, Stark. That's what awaits you."
"What are you..what.."
Ben tried to speak but was suddenly out of breath as a sharp pain stung his back again and again, so many times that after the fourth he lost count. And while he seethed in pain breathlessly on the ground, the Halfhand only watched with that smile Ben had found annoying and misleading.
"It's always for something. Somebody somewhere always does something for a reason. And theirs? Mine? You can bet your Dayne ass it's for the Watch. Always for the Watch."
And right before Ben's eyes, Qhorin Halfhand stood from where he sat, his eyes turning to a glare as before him the man in black turned into crows, arms shifting to black feathered wings and face to that with a black beak and even blacker eyes of emptiness. Ben couldn't even react as the crows stormed towards him, the murder coming like knives driving into his chest and back a thousand times, yet he still breathed.
And silence once again filled his ears, but the pain was still there. It was always there. It was his only constant in life up until that point. Pain, he thought painfully. Pain is what drives someone forward. It's what drove Robert Baratheon to a war of retribution for the kidnapping and rape of Lyanna Stark. It's what drove his father to join in the war as well, breaking his mother's heart.
"Dragonborn.."
He whispered to himself quietly. What did the shadow woman mean by Dragonborn? The thought rang through his head. Slayer of Lies, Daughter of Madness. Who are these women? He asked himself over and over again, but he could not think straight as through the stabs in his back, he felt cold. He felt cold and alone and fear all at once as through the darkness appeared the figure who tormented him: the one with the crown of ice, with the eyes of a blue winter of eternity.
"S-Stay away.."
Ben panted heavily as he tried to stand up, but the sharp pain in his back and his leg nearly kept him down, making him tumble and stumble his way to his feet. He used his ancestral sword as a cane like that of a crone, limping forward through the darkness, away from the being of death.
But as he crashed and banged his way through the twisted, wicked halls of the Nightfort, all Benget saw was wickedness and twisted, monstrous things. He tripped and fell over a root growing deep from a tree that bulged out through the ceiling, bit revealed very little in the way of light, as there was not a lot anyways. But there was enough to see what was happening inside the room on his left as Ben looked inside.
A girl with hair cut down to her scalp almost was in a bath, and two candles flickered across the room. He tried to shake out of it, to look away, but he couldn't as a boot slammed into his back, pressing him to the ground as Ben grunted him. A Crow stood on him, but clearly did not notice his presence, nor care. The man's eyes was on the girl that Ben saw must've been no older than Arya was the last he saw. And soon, the Crow stepped off of him and charged at the girl. And as Ben tried to stand up, make an effort of any kind to help the girl, another boot slammed him back to the ground before stepping off, only to be replaced again and again six times over.
Flint, Ben realized. Danny Flint... and true to the song's words, Danny made not a sound as the six men of the Watch broke their vows a thousand times over, all the while the poor helpless girl stared Ben right in the eyes as if she could see him.
"No...s-stop.."
The door to the room had closed slowly, but Danny did not look away as Ben tried to reach out to help, but the door then suddenly slammed into his hand, making him seethe once more in pain. Blindly reaching out in front of him, he groped the darkness in search of Dawn. He finally found the familiar hilt as he grabbed it, and he paused only for a second when he didn't feel the strip of bark from the weirwood that Val had tied.
"Where--"
He barely turned in time as he felt a presence approach from behind quickly, and just where his head had been, an axe was sunk deep into the wood of the floor.
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Spinning around on the floor, Ben looked up in shock as a man with the most crazed yet silent look glared down at him, blood in his face, hair and teeth, with a silent hatred in his eyes. The same crimson liquid dripped from his hands and axe that he wielded, and Ben knew he had to move.
So he swung Dawn ina long swipe to make space between himself and the one Ben knew had to be the Mad Axe. If the one with the crown of ice wanted to play game, he would play right back.
"Come on, you fuck!"
Ben grunted as he dodged a swing of the axe, but wasn't prepared at all as instead being slow on recoiling for another strike, the Mad Axe was quick, so Ben swiftly had Dawn knocked from his hands in a single blow, the force of which sent the blade from the stars shooting down the hall and finally coming to the stop at the end where Ben could not see. Using a serge of strength after a dodge once more from the axe, Ben lowered his shoulder and wrapped up, forcing the monster of myth to the ground, but the man brought Ben with him as the floor beneath them broke apart, and Ben tumbled down into further darkness at a bottomless pit.
But Ben didn't feel the impact of the ground, yet he was on solid ground, he saw. Snow, he realized. He landed on snow, but it doesn't explain why he didn't feel it. But he also knew he would not get any explanations from the Nightfort or its monstrosities.
"C-Commander..y-you have to l-lis--listen to us.."
A voice filled with dread and terror spoke out in a whisper from all around him, but Benget only saw darkness and snow, snow and darkness.
"If what you have to say is the same thing as the other apprentices have, you can save it. Grumpkins and snarks, Wildings, that's what's frightening the lot for ya."
"But Commander, I swear to you..I swear! Just listen!"
It was a voice of a young boy, and it made Ben shiver with how much fear the boy's voice held. The man who he was talking to must've been a Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, and not a very good one if he did not listen to the boy at all.
"Repeat the story of your friends, boy, see how similar it is, then. The other two have said the same general thing, but varying. How is yours any different?"
Ben listened and waited to hear the response in the darkness, but for the longest time, there was silence. The boy either could not speak, or he had died of fright. But as Ben listened, he felt the man with the axe slowly approaching the darkness, walking in silence as he could hear the drop of blood dripping from his axe, turning to smoke in the snow. He reached out slowly, feeling in the snow and found the strip of bark, and he immediately felt alive, more so than just moments before. And so he waited for the axe. Waited for the voice.
"I-It was..was a-a thing, Lord... A thing that came in the night."
That boy whispered in the quietest whisper, drowned in fear. But he knew he had to move now, so Ben finally made his move, and the Mad Axe did too, swinging down with his axe without so much as uttering a sound. Managing to slam his bloody fist into the man's knee, the Mad Axe tumbled to the ground on one knee, and Ben took the strip of bark in both hands and threw himself arms up over the monster's shoulders and pulled back hard.
Weirwood bark, no matter if the tree carved by the Children was dead, was still as strong and resilient as Ironwood. So Ben pulled and pulled, gritting his teeth as he pulled with all of his might against the Watchman's neck, until he really turned black. The Mad Axe was no more, and the final drop of blood dripped from his axe.
Ben slumped back to the ground still clutching the weirwood strip. He was exhausted. He was done. He could not move himself any longer as he panted heavily, staring up at the darkness from which he fell from.
"Dragonborn.."
He whispered yet once more.
"Mask of stars...violet eyes... Wake up. It's time to go.."
He kept muttering to himself, yet he could not move.
"Wake up."
But no matter what, Benget Stark could not awake from the nightmare which he endured. He closed his slowly, no longer feeling anything. He could not feel the deep scratches near his eyes from Orell's eagle, the deep stab in both his leg and heart from Val, the brutal beat down from Tormund, the separation from Jon, everything. He closed his eyes and let it all go.
A soft humming came to his ears then. The hum was a low yet soft one, one of seduction and mystery both at once. It was comforting, yet haunting also. And suddenly, Ben felt himself move, but he did not command it himself. He was tugged, or rather, dragged along through the snow as it turned to ice. But then he was dropped, and Ben groaned as he pushed himself up to see where he was.
It was a woman's voice now calling how in the cold night air, filling the silence with the most alluring of sounds any Crow would fall for.
"Blue eyes.."
He whispered to himself.
"Blue eyes..winter...corpse.."
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And from ice he went to snow again, and Ben found himself on the ground. And there before him as he laid in pain was a woman with skin that was pale as the moon. The one with the star blue eyes and white skin smiled ever so slightly as she gazed at him, and Ben felt like he was struck by a lightning bolt by the gaze. It shot right through him, paralyzing him as he saw a different figure, one in black, approach.
"Now here we stand, the Lord Commander and the "Thing," the living and the dead.."
The man's voice struck so similar to the man's previously that Ben realized was the same person. Those boys, they spoke about "the thing that came in the night" to be horrifying beyond belief, driving them to madness. And as Ben watched the woman's eyes drift from himself to the man in black, he could see how the Thirteenth Lord Commander himself became mad. His pupils were dilated in a crazy haze, an even crazier grin spreading to his lips as the Lord Commander approached the frozen woman with lust in his eyes, approaching her open arms. She was waiting for him.
"The man and the woman..."
And Ben could only watch as vision after vision last before him.
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"I was born when the sky was filled with ice and snow. When the dead did walk and the world stood still. The Black could not satisfy my needs, nor my destiny to rule. Through passion, my chains and burdens are broken."
The Commander was no more, Ben saw. His hair had grown wicked long and seemed to freeze, and his eyes turned just as star blue as the woman.
"A Commander no more, I am. The Night's Watch be damned. Kings shall rise and kings shall fall, just as the day falls into night. The darkness, the cold...I will always remain. As the Night's King, I must have a queen, and before you stands herself in her glory and majesty."
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But the woman did not look at all the men standing as shadowy figures, Ben saw. She didn't look at the Night's King from the song, nor anyone else. She only looked directly at him.
"Kings of the South shall hear of me and my deeds, let them. Let them see. Let them hear. Let them fear. Let them tremble."
Ben tried to close his eyes and cover his ears as he heard the sound of ringing steel clashing in a storm of swords, men howling like wolves as said beasts came crashing down on the Nightfort. Men with blue eyes were savagely ripped apart by the wolves with steel, killing them all without mercy as Ben could only stare ahead at the sight before him in shock.
And then he heard it.
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The voice that had calmly called out in the darkness, the voice that echoed softly over the top of the Wall, had been cut deep, turning into a ragged and pained and shriveled cry before finally silencing. And before him, Ben saw a wolf with a crown of swords upon its head stab the Night's Queen through the heart and hoisted her into the air, but her remains did not stay for very long, turning to ice in the wind like ash in smoke.
The horror, the grief, the suffering, the pain, agony, failure, dishonor, death and destruction was all too much to take. He closed his eyes so tight he thought his head would explode as his scream ripped throughout his entire body, his shout shattering the darkness of the sky above him and the snow below. Again and again he shouted, but no matter what, Ben couldn't seem to wake up.
And so he gave up trying to. He slumped back into the snow, lying in it as the sky took hours to change from night to light. But the only light he was able to see was bleak and grey, empty and void of life. Snow speckled the sky like ash would after a great fire in a forest, but Ben barely even made a reaction to it, nor the cold that followed.
Before him was water, or what should have been water. It spanded endless miles that were unseeable, bit he knew they were there. It was all ice, however. An ocean frozen meant that it was colder than it has ever been on the world, the coldest winter in all living history. But the snow softly fell, the sky was bleak and grey, and Benget Stark stared ahead at nothing as his entirely silver hair blew gently in the wind.
꧁𝑱𝒐𝒏 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒌꧂
THE LOOKS NOW AT CASTLE BLACK WERE HARSHER THAN WHEN HE FIRST CAME HERE, AND EVEN WORSE THAN WHEN HE RETURNED FROM WAR. To them, he was a traitor twice over. One could make the argument that the first was for a just cause, but where is that cause now? It's gone. Robb is gone. Lady Catelyn is gone, Arya and Sansa, Bran and Rickon, his father, everyone that Jon ever cared for is gone. Ygritte..
And as for the second argument? Jon questioned to no one but himself, not even Sam. Even if what we did was right for not just our survival, but for the Watch, the North itself, why do they sneer? Why do they bicker and sneer on subjects they do not understand, nor even begin to comprehend? It just didn't make any sense to Jon, and he found it unfair and disheartening.
Longclaw swung slightly as the wind picked up a little as Jon stood near the stables leaning agaisnt a wooden post. Right here is where his brother would spend the majority of his time tending to the horses. Simple minded creatures to anyone who was simple-minded themselves. Ben taught him how to ride a horse, actually. How to stand up in it's stirrups and loose an arrow from a bow, how to hunt from horseback, and how to race just the same. But of course, he was always better at it than Jon was. He hated it then. Hated how Benget Stark was the one that was the soul heir to everything, yet lived a life void of spoils and treasures simply because he found it tacky and dull, all that silver and gold. Any man would envy him, and Jon most certainly did even now as he stood there as the remaining Stark for the foreseeable time.
But most importnantly, he was lost. He was lost and confused and didn't know what to do. One-hundred-thousand, he tried telling them. One-hundred-thousand Wildlings coming to kill us all, he warned, but nobody listened to him. Not truly. Even the ones he considers his friends were skeptical. Pyp was more worried of the dead that Sam and the others had faced at the Fist of the First Men, which was reasonable. And Sam, well, Sam was most afraid of anything that jumped out at him.
But the truth was, Jon himself was scared. He was scared because from where he stood, he was alone in the world. Everyone he cared for and loved was gone. It had been just a little over a week since he fled the Free Folk..since he broke Ygritte and his own heart, and yet Ben hasn't come back. If Ygritte was able to track himself down and nearly take him out, then Jon could only pray that Tormund or Val would not be able to track Ben.
"Hey there, kid."
Jon looked up from his boots and saw a man approaching, furs as black as a Crow, just like the rest of the Watch. It was Ser Jaremy Rykker.
"Hello, ser."
Jon returned the greeting in a somewhat grim fashion as Ser Jaremy held a look of understanding.
"He's out there, you know. Thorne and the other lot might wish he isn't, but he is."
"Ser Alliser Thorne can wish a lot of things if he cares to..but this wish might actually be true."
Ser Jaremy scoffed, shaking his head as he montioned for Jon to follow him into the stables where the horses rested.
"I don't exactly know your brother that well, but from what I can tell, the only thing that kill Benget Stark is Benget bloody Stark."
"And what about White Walkers or Wildlings? There's so many of them out there, Ser... The chances--"
"Chances? Chances don't mean Jack shit, Jon Stark."
The former Targaryen loyalist remarked as he began to saddle up a steed for himself to ride, readying its tack and reins before turning back to Jon.
"You either do or you don't. There isn't anything else."
"So if chances mean nothing, than what if you had the chance to go back to the Rebellion, go back and try to defend better what you loved? Does it still mean nothing then?"
He asked and Ser Jaremy paused for a long moment, looking at the floor yet a thousand miles away also at the same time. Sighing heavily, he climbed up onto the horse, settling himself in the saddle as he glanced down at Jon.
"It wouldn't make a difference what I could have done then. Aerys, Rhaegar..they both were gone before the Robert's war began... So I guess you have your answer, Jon Stark."
Jon stepped back as Ser Jaremy lightly kicked back his heel into the horse's side, moving it along in a slow walk as Jon looked at him confused.
"Where are you even going?"
"Acting First Ranger has to do some Ranging, eh? Kind of the whole job description. Don't worry, Jon, I'll keep my eye out for him."
The exiled knight said as Jon was once again left alone, leaning against a wooden post by himself.
꧁𝑫𝒂𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒔 𝑻𝒂𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒚𝒆𝒏꧂
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MEEREEN STOOD BEFORE DAENERYS, AND SHE WAS AMAZED. Amazed at how such beauty could be created by such evil. The pyramid that stood in the center of the great city that she could see tower over the high carved walls was almost glowing, a statue presumably made from gold standing at the top, wings outstretched. The Harpy, she had learned it was called over time. It was something she was going to tear down, one way or another.
Behind her stood 8,000 Unsullied, all bound and sworn to fight for her, yet in some kind of way, Daenerys felt both powerful because of this devotion, and scared at the same time. Where she stood in that moment, with all that she has and all that she has to gain, she was frightened by the amount of control she had.
And she was terrified of the control that was no possessed by herself, but instead was held by a wicked being so sick and sodden than he made Daenerys' stomach turn every time he appeared.
"Would they try to attack?"
She questioned as she gazed at the defenses atop of their wall, as well as the regular small folk and slaves watching beside their masters and overlords. Ser Barristan, who had just dismounted his horse and stood beside her narrowed his eyes at the slavers in the distance and shrugged slightly.
"It wouldn't be a sound thing to try. It's said that a thousand Unsullied stood against 20,000 Dothraki screamers and successfully pushed them back. The Masters of Meereen do not have the men that can fight, or the ones who are willing, even."
"So the idea I brought to you will work, then?"
"It's worked for Yunkai, my Queen."
Daario Naharis stepped forward with that smile that seemed to stay stuck onto his lips like honey.
"It will here as well."
"Mm."
A hum was her reply as she turned and looked back to the large gates connecting to the wall, noticing how they were opened up. A single rider came out on horseback, a long standing lance with markings of yellow and blue like the sky swirled around the length of it, almost glistening in the light. He yelled in a strange accent, one that sounded irregular and foreign to Dany. Turning to Missandei as the crowd on the walls cheered and roared for their obvious champion, she raised a brow.
"And he's saying..?"
"Uh.."
Missandei hesitated as she gazed in shock at the man's actions as he climbed down from his horse, giving a bow to the crowd before pulling it out and began to desecrate the dirt.
"He's.."
"Did they send a champion or dog to face us?"
Dany almost sneered as she gritted her teeth, but Ser Barristan shook his head with a frown.
"He is saying, Your Grace, that you are no woman at all, but a man who...hides his own cock in his asshole.."
Daenerys, though enraged, actually smirked. A little nod as the Champion of Meereen continued to taunt and laugh in the distance. Dany turned back around, that smirk still on her lips as she raised a brow in question.
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"I wish to say something to the people of Meereen, but a dog is barking. Does anyone wish to be my champion?"
Almost immediately as the words fell from her lips, Daario stepped forward and bowed his head.
"Allow me this honor, Daenerys Stormborn. Let me be your--"
"If I wanted to watch theatrics I would have gone to the circus, Daario Naharis. Anyone but you."
She cut the Second Son off as Daario nearly rolled his eyes, but returned to his spot regardless. Grey Worm took a step forward now, but before he could even utter a word also, Daenerys shook her head.
"You are the commander of the Unsullied, their leader. I will not have you shed your own blood in this meaningless jape they wish to make."
"It isn't meaningless if half of the city you intend to take is listening, my Queen."
Ser Barristam regarded and Dany turned to him now with a raised brow, and he continued.
"Symbolic remarks need symbolic actions, I'd say. If you would, my Queen, I wish to be your champion. To serve and protect and defend once again, writing rights over my wrongs of the past.."
"Ser Barristan, you more than anyone has served faithfully to my House and family. It would mean a great deal to me, but you do not have to."
The Kingsguard of Aerys nodded, and had a small, yet genuine smile on his lips as Daenerys returned it before onceore returning to gaze across the field of sand, dirt and rock to the Champion as he continued his remarks and japes against herself and her people.
"How do you plan on doing it, old man?"
Daario questioned as Daenerys narrowed her eyes slightly at the comment, but Ser Barristan Selmy only smiled.
"A horseman is a horseman, through and through. And as such, I plan to knock him to his ass."
Ser Barristan remarked back as he left to go prepare his horse as he left Daario to roll his eyes in annoyance, which Dany found entirely amusing. The Champion across the sands had a lance, she could see. Striped yellow and blue, and she noted that she herself did not possess a great cavalry, nor a great deal of horses in general. She was no Khal, she knew then. But then she remembered that she was more than that: a dragon.
And the dragon had her knight.
Ser Barristan climbed onto his horse, asking only for a spear and no shield, which concerned Daenerys as she stepped forward, putting her hand up to the stout neck of the stallion as she gazed with concern.
"Are you sure that you will be all right, Ser? I can't very well have the Lord Commander of my Queensguard to be the one to have his ass knocked to the ground."
Ser Barristan shrugged a bit as the old man smiled, readying the long, heavy spear as he considered its weight before looking back to Dany.
"The thing is, Your Grace, the young are always so eager to outrun the old, to try and show us up. I haven't jousted since the Tourney of the Hand in honor of Lord Eddard Stark, so I figured I can show that Second Son over there how this old man can still keep up."
Daenerys wasn't sure if the first part of the Old Knight's comment was meant to be a nod to her, or if it meant to be a slight, no matter slight said slight was, but the end was clear: the old man wanted to ride. So Daenerys took a step back, a smile gracing her lips as she nodded.
"Biarves sagon sȳz naejot ao, uēpa vala."
(Fortune be good to you, old man."
Ser Barristan chuckled, shaking his head.
"You know, Arthur and Rhaegar used to have conversations in Valyrian after Rhaegar had taught him. I'm pretty sure Arthur said that to me once, even if I do not have the slightest idea what it means."
"I'll tell you after, good Ser."
Ser Barristan nodded and kicked his horse into a trot. Daenerys returned to Missandei's side, but also alongside Irri and Rakharo, who both stood offely close to be more than a coincidence.
"Should I expect a Dothraki wedding by chance? If so, I'd rather there not be more than three deaths."
Irri immediately flushed red and Dany's blood rider rubbed the back of his neck now covered by his longer braid. Daenerys eyed Irri for a few more moments, disheartened and slightly annoyed that she would no longer be available, but it is what it is. The Old Knight had lined up, and the people of Meereen and of Daenerys Stormborn all waited eagerly to see who the day belonged to.
And so it began first with Ser Barristan suddenly yelling out, and kicking the sides of his horse with his heals, which set the horse galloping fast as despite the old man's age, he could still ride spectacularly. The Champion of Meereen charged forth also, and the two locked their targets, and Daenerys unintentionally grabbed Missandei's hand as the two combatants got closer.
The Champion's lance was meant to slam into its target and knock the rider off, maybe shatter their bones, but not penatrate. So when Ser Barristan's spear came into contact with the Champion's lightly armored chest, it sunk right in deep, knocking the man to the ground, but he was already dead before he even hit it.
The spear snapped in half, but Ser Barristan had been left unwounded, which made Daenerys sigh out of relief, but not release her grip of Missandei. The Queen gazed at the Old Knight as he slowly trotted back upon his stallion, and he looked exhausted, but still wore a smile himself.
"Are you all right?"
She asked with concern, but Ser Barristan did not lose his smile for a second.
"Still got it, Your Grace. I still got it.."
꧁𝑩𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒌꧂
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IN HIS HAND WAS CLENCHED THE STRIP OF WEIRWOOD AND A PURPLE STONE. A purple stone that had been wound by a strong string tied tightly, yet worn loosely. A single stone, a rather meaningless one to anyone else. But as his own blood slowly trickled over the small stone from the White Knife just south of Winterfell, anyone with a mind and a half could tell it meant almost everything to him in that moment.
But what comfort that both the stone and the strip could bring him, Ben could barely feel it. He didn't feel a damn thing as he just gazed upward at nothing, thinking of nothing and feeling nothing as he watches quietly the cracks in the ceiling of the Nightfort.
"From the top of the Wall,
he came down to the call,
Of the one with the star-blue eyes.."
His voice was raspy and broken, but he still said the words as he could see him right there across the room. But Benget merely smiled, shaking his head.
"It was you.."
Every word felt like a chipped up sword was dragging so slowly across his neck, it hurt.
"It was you that drove her away..that killed her... You and your madness, it drove the Watch and yourself mad.."
He could see blue eyes of ice now look down at him, an icy blue devil standing before him with a crown of spiked ice, the sight alone would make a giant piss itself, mammoth dash away in fear and a direwolf to bow its head. But the Violet Wolf only smiled, never once bowing his head.
"You lost her b-because you didn't love her..how a woman should be loved."
Benget closed his eyes, leaning back into the broken floorboards as he groaned slightly, shaking his head.
"A woman is m-meant to be loved and cherished, not defiled and lusted for. To love someone is to wake up every day and realize that you have something..someone to live for.."
And then he smiled.
"..your hope for a new morning."
And opening his eyes with a determination blazing like a fire in his violets, the figure of ice with the crown of it glared back, frowning even deeper now as Benget Stark leaned forward.
"You didn't love her. You lost."
And he closed his eyes, clenching weirwood and the stone even tighter, and waited. He waited to die. The figure of ice so wanted to kill him there and then, he could feel it. But Ben knew in that moment that he couldn't. There was something blocking him from doing it. Whatever it was, Benget could not tell, as when he opened his eyes next, Dawn lied in his hands, and for just a second, he saw the blade alight with fire.
꧁𝑱𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒚 𝑹𝒚𝒌𝒌𝒆𝒓꧂
CAN I EVEN REMEMBER? HE THOUGHT TO HIMSELF AS HIS STEED CARRIED ON. Can I remember a time I thought my service and honor were just that? Maybe it was with the House of the Dragon, the House that clothed him, sheltered him and brought him up to knighthood. He had worked his way up, moving from place to place, hoping and dreaming of coming to King's Landing to just see the Prince and his family. He was driven by the need to fight for the dragons when one of them was taken and unspeakable things were done to him at Duskendale, Rykker's birthplace.
The Defiance of Duskendale, they called it. Defiance was one thing, but kidnapping a king all for the sake of better taxes, which were fair enough, was another. That was one thing Ser Jaremy could ever thank Lord Tywin for, and that was the taxes actually being somewhat better during his time as Hand, as his parents could afford to have him become a squire, and thereafter, a knight.
That was a different time, Ser Jaremy thought as he now looked down at himself. He had always worn red before. A red blouse, a leather jerkin made dyed red that he could remember working very hard to earn enough money to buy. Red was for the dragons, and that's what they became in the end: red and dead, while he became Black.
And now the exiled knight, the banished man, rode along the countryside of Brandon's Gift, both scouting and searching. He had drifted more than he intended before, moving further west than he had planned. If what Jon Stark had told him was true, how he and his brother climbed the Wall with the Wildlings around Greyguard and Stonedoor, then the Wildlings would he close to Castle Black already, not this far out. But he kept looking anyways, even as he rode past Queensgate and Deep Lake.
The acting First Ranger then suddenly stopped his horse as he mentally smacked himself in the face. He wasn't used to scouting south of the Wall, for that wasn't a job, or even a priority of a Ranger in the Night's Watch. And because of this, Ser Jaremy forgot what was before him now; the Nightfort.
"Come on, let's turn back.."
He whispered more to himself than his horse as he saw the monstrous and ugly broken castle in the far distance, nearly out of sight, but not out of mind. He turned away, knowing what happened there haunted the Night's Watch for all its history, so much so that Deep Lake and Queensgate were bought and paid for by the Good Queen Alysanne Targaryen because of what happened there, it's horrors. But as Rykker was turning his horse, he stopped as he saw movement out of the corner of his eye.
Wildlings, was his first thought. But they would not make their presence known if they could not help it. If they saw him, they would have neve shown themselves, and he'd be dead already. No, this was something else. Something...familiar?
"My Prince..?"
A silver-haired man approached him, using a sword as both a cane and crutch, but it was not enough as the man Rykker thought to be Rhaegar was not Rhaegar at all as the knight dashed to the man.
"Who the hell--"
He stopped himself as he gazed down at the man on the ground, the violet eyes gazing at the bleak, grey sky, blood on the scratches near his eyes long dried. It was Benget Stark.
"Kid.."
"M-Mother.."
Was all Ben was able to whisper, over and over again he kept saying, "mother." The boy never knew his mother, Rykker knew. Ashara Dayne had died in his and his twin's birth, as was said by the Lord Eddard Stark. But a mother's comfort was the first thing that every man and woman has ever felt in this world, and it would be the last thing they remember before drifting away.
"Let's get you back. It's okay, you're going to he alright."
"No...no..i-ice...fire... We need fire."
Those were his words before he passed out, dropping his sword as Ser Jaremy grabbed it, trying to quickly yet carefully place the Stark up onto the back of the horse before climbing onto the saddle himself before dashing as fast as he could push the horse back to Castle Black.
꧁~~~𝑨/𝑵~~~꧂
My bad, everyone, for taking a long time to get this chapter out. Honestly speaking, it's been a pain in the you know what to keep writing and publishing constantly. And because of that, I think chapters will be taking much longer to come out than what I've given, and I apologize for that.
So with this chapter, Benget is officially out of the Nightfort, but the memory's aren't done with him. Jon is back at Castle Black, and Dany is taking Meereen, just to be clear where the important people are in the world and mind, lol.
Anyways, I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter, as it took a long time for me to write and actually think up. So leave a comment if you like, maybe a vote too, but you are obviously not obligated to do so, lol.
Much love!