The Wall (Undying Throne)

"If the Wall should ever fall, all the fires will go out"

An architectural wonder, grandiloquent and humbling, the Wall is as its name implies, a wall, and one of massive physical dimensions. Made of ice and said to be blessed by magic, it towers over seven hundred feet in height, and stretches three hundred miles across the northern border of the Seven Kingdoms, acting as a barrier between it an the untamed lands beyond it. Three hundred feet thick, and weighing nearly eighty million tons, the Wall is the greatest of man's fortification, a nearly impenetrable defense against the dangers beyond it.

The Wall itself is defended and patrolled by the Sworn Brothers of the Night's Watch, an ancient military order tasked with guarding and holding both the Wall and the castles in the mountain range nearby. Originally built to defend the realm of man against the White Walkers, its original purpose has since been forgotten, and the White Walkers have faded into myths and tales used to frighten children who misbehave.

History

Said to have been constructed over eight thousand years ago by Brandon the Builder following the Long Night (a ten year winter that saw the emergence of the White Walkers), the Wall's original purpose was to act as a barrier between the realms of man and the White Walkers. Tales tell that Brandon the Builder had placed his foundations along the heights wherever possible, and there is many a mention that while always a massive structure, the Wall was much smaller in the past and has in fact been built upon by the Night's Watch builders, who quarried large blocks of ice from frozen lakes and dragged them south to make the Wall higher, raising it over the centuries to its present size.

Structure of the Wall

"Almost seven hundred feet high it stood, three times the height of the tallest tower in the stronghold it sheltered. The top was wide enough for a dozen armored knights to ride abreast. The gaunt outlines of huge catapults and monstrous wooden cranes stood sentry up there, like the skeletons of great birds, and among them walked men in black as small as ants"

Towering over seven hundred feet tall, stretching for three hundred miles, and three hundred feet thick, the Wall is made of solid ice and stone. Its structure is of such massive proportions that it can be seen for miles round. A shade of gray or arctic blue depending on the weather and time of day, the top of the Wall is wide, enough so for a dozen mounted knights to ride abreast. It is thicker at the base, and according to Westerosi myth, there are ancient spells woven into it, to fortify its structure and prevent creatures of the supernatural, the White Walkers included, from surmounting it.

There is a gate in the Wall that guards the tunnel that runs through it. Three iron gates block the inner passage, and each of these gates is locked. There are also stairs of wood, anchored by large beams frozen into the Wall, that act as the means for one to climb up from Castle Black to the top of the Wall. Perhaps most peculiar of its features is a winch elevator used to take supplies and men up to the top of the Wall. It is an iron cage attached to a winch, allowing it to ascend and descend the face of the Wall.

-Defenses-

Though built as a defensive barrier, the Wall itself holds a variety of defenses used by the Night's Watch. The top of the Wall is dug out, similar to a trench, to offer protection against the harsh weather. Several outlets and wooden pillboxes grant archers the means of firing at enemies below. A working pulley system allows archers to hang over the edge of the Wall to fire against enemy forces attempting to climb it. Additionally, other defenses include ramps for barrels of burning oil, or barrels of ice and stone to drop on enemy forces. The Night's Watch is also in possession of ballistae (large crossbows that fire spears) and catapults powerful enough to kill the giants in wildling ranks.

Their most recognized defense mechanism is the 'scythe', a large metal anchor attached to the end of a massive chain. When released, the scythe runs along the Wall, mauling anyone within its swinging arch. The Wall's greatest defense however, is perhaps in its own physical nature. Its incredible height renders it very difficult to climb, and it is simply too thick to smash through. Climbing the wall is also dangerous because large sheets of ice can loosen from it or can be loosened from it by the Night's Watch.

The Night's Watch

"The Night's Watch is a shadow of what it once was"

An ancient military order that wears only black, the Night's Watch is tasked with holding the Wall and defending the realms of man from what lies beyond the Wall, specifically, the White Walkers. Though their original purpose has since been forgotten and with their prestige gone, they have since focused their attention on doing battle with the wildlings who seek to cross over the Wall.

-History-

One of the oldest factions in the Seven Kingdom, one that survived the fall of the First Men's kingdom, and the 'War of Conquest', the Night's Watch is over eight thousand years old, founded at the end of the Long Night. During a winter of endless night that lasted a generation, the White Walkers emerged and lay waste to much of Westeros before facing defeat at the hands of the Night's Watch at the 'Battle for the Dawn'. With the threat of the White Walkers diminished, the Wall was then erected by Brandon the Builder to protect the Seven Kingdoms, should the White Walkers ever return.

With the exception of the Night's Watch's thirteenth Lord Commander, the Night's King however, there were no further attacks by the White Walkers. Instead, the most frequent danger came from the wildlings (those who were left beyond the Wall following its constructions) and their constant attempts at raiding in the North. As the years went by and the wildling raids and battles grew in frequency, the Night's Watch slowly lost sight of their original purpose, which was not to do battle with the wildlings, but with the White Walkers should they ever return. And during this course, their manpower decreased more and more, and the Night's Watch, once an order of honor and prestige, became neglected by the majority of Westeros.

Only the North, particularly House Stark and House Knightfall, recall the old days of the Night Watch, and only House Knightfall seem to hold the belief that the White Walkers are not vague figures in children's stories, but the true danger beyond the Wall. With the Seven Kingdoms neglecting the Night's Watch more and more, with the exception of House Knightfall and House Stark who still send their capable warriors to become Sworn Brothers, their manpower has reached an all-time low. Gone are its days of honor. The majority of its ranks are now comprised of peasants, debtors, thieves, and bastards. At the zenith of its power, the Night's Watch held seventeen castles manned with over ten thousand men-at-arms between them. Now? It barely holds a thousand.

-Organization-

Current Lord Commander:Kellan Knightfall

The Night's Watch consists of three sub-categories: Rangers (the fighting force), Builders (those responsible for maintaining the Wall, castles, and equipment), and Stewards (those who offer vital day-to-day services e.g. cooks). All of them are subject to the Lord Commander (the Night's Watch's final authority and he who oversees the entire order. Any man of the Watch can be voted for by the Sworn Brothers, and he serves as the Lord Commander until his death), and each three are led by their own officer appointed by the Lord Commander.

-Vows-

'Now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death'

'I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children'

'I shall wear no crowns and win no glory'

'I shall live and die at my post'

'I am the sword in the darkness'

'I am the watcher on the walls'

'I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers; the shield that guards the realms of men'

'I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch for this night and all nights to come'

Castles

Nineteen castles have been raised to guard the hundred leagues of the Wall, however no more than seventeen have ever been manned simultaneously. With their manpower at an all-time low, the Night's Watch have abandoned the majority of their castles, with the majority of their forces being in Castle Black, the largest maintained castle and held by six hundred Sworn Brothers.

-Castle Black-

An ancient stronghold and main headquarters of the Night's Watch, Castle Black is located along the Wall between Queensgate to the west and Oakenshield to the east, near the center of the Wall, at the northern end of kingsroad. Because it has no walls to defend it to the west, east, or south, Castle Black is not a true castle. Only the Wall stands to north. It is comprised of several stone towers and timber keeps. Beneath the keeps and towers, there are many subterranean passages which connect all of the buildings to one another. Though they are rarely used during the summer, they are frequently used during winter as it is the only way to travel to the different parts of the castle.

Rules

1. This location is not in the nU Reality but in the GoT/Undying Throne universe.
2. If you want to become part of the Night's Watch or have something to do with its history, PM me in my current accounts (e.g. La Espada).
3. Anyone (from the Undying Throne) universe can visit.

Nice, I have a question. With Kellan on the wall then who is the current head of House Knightfall?

YESSSSS

@nemesis_liafador: :)

@_nox_: Kristoff Knightfall. But he's very, very old. So if you wanna be the head of House Knightfall, go ahead. Kristoff can die from old age and your character as the heir can takeover.

...

@orpheus_knightfall: Read up on GoT, it'll help you out before putting your character in a position like the lord of a noble house. In any case, it all depends on whether or not Nox wants the position. He asked first.

LOL my reaction exactly.

@la_espada:

Cool, cool. I think it would be anti-climatic and against the spirit of the show if Kristoff died from old age. Just to clarify Kristoff is Kellan's father correct? I'm certainly interested in becoming head of the family once we figure out a proper way for Kristoff to die. But I first I want to develop Kristoff's character before anything or maybe we can do something like Jon Arryn where his death kicks the plot into gear.

@_nox_: Right? Nobody dies from old age in GoT, LOL. We can work something out in due time. We'll develop his character and from there, things can start to get interesting.

What would actually happen in the show. Characters don't usually get revenge unless you're Arya Stark.

Except Maester Aemon. After my KoV post I'll post here.

This is what would happen in GoT. Characters don't get revenge unless you're Arya Stark.

@_nox_: Ha! The one exception.

That's the kind of thing that's straight out of a GoT script actually. That could work.

When night falls, no lions will roar, no dragons will burn towns, no stags will leave scat behind. Only wolves will howl at midnight.

Having never seen the Wall, he lied to his old father about this expedition's true intention. Márkus told him that he intended to see for himself what the Night's Watch truly was, so he could decide if he wished to join his brother in the never ending crusade. As a Snow it was logical that he would ask for this opportunity, with nothing to inherit once his father passed away the time for him to choose would present himself. However, this was not the moment for him to choose between freedom or chastity. No, a more urgent matter had arisen which could not be discussed from a crow.

Their father, Kristoff had contracted greyscale sixteen moons back, after a long war waged with the disease he once again stood victorious but with a price to pay. His face was scarred beyond belief, he wouldn't see anyone besides his sons. This left Frostfall without a warden. The real reason as to why the Snow Bastard traveled such a long, dark road to see his older brother. Above all else, their father was an honorable man who would never approve if he knew that he wanted to convince Kellan to leave his watch. The alternative heirs weren't exactly wise and his parentage did not allow him to take the North for himself.

As Lord Commander he knew that the chances that he would leave were slimmer than the width of his sword, yet he had to try. Upon entering Kellan's private headquarters it was difficult to understand why he would leave Frostfall for this. Back home he could have slept in a bed with the size of the room alone with as many women as the men that shared watch with him, here his piss probably froze before it even touched the ground.

"Brother". Márkus called to get the Young Wolf's attention, his arms extended, embracing him. "I see that being part of the Watch truly turns boys into men". He said with a brief laugh, remarking towards his brother's thick beard. Last time they had seen each other they were both nothing more than children playing with wooden swords. Now, Kellan lead the Night's Watch against the White Walkers and Márkus...well at least he had lost his virginity.

@kellan_knightfall

@kellan_knightfall:

I forgot to mention, if you want me to change anything just tell me. I know we didn't really agree on anything that I posted but I just wanted to throw that out there.

@_nox_: That was a great post

@aeron:

Thank you. What house are you joining?

@_nox_: House Glyndwr. They're the third house in the Northern ally trifecta of Stark/Knightfall/Glyndwr. But there's bad blood between Knightfall and Glyndwr due to a broken betrothal on the behalf of Kellan and Aeron and the death of a Knightfall sister who was betrothed to Aeron's brother.

We're developing Kristoff before anything.

Oh crap, isn't that how the Red Wedding was caused? I can already tell who's dying first.

What are you thinking for a look? Describe the character and his personality.

@orpheus_knightfall: Age?

Why don't you use Jonas Armstrong's version of Robin Hood from the BBC show, if you're looking for a real life character from a non-modern time period.

Kellan broke his betrothal for the Night's Watch, not for another woman, would be a key difference. That and the fact that they actually loved each other.

Okay, I thought it was something like he left her because he didn't want to marry her or he got caught with another woman.

@_nox_: Nope! You'll see hints of it in posts soon enough.

@_nox_: That post was perfect!

@la_espada:

@orpheus_knightfall: Not yet.

@_nox_:

Even in the 'Commander's Keep', the air was cold. Typically, these were quarters kept tidy, as per Kellan's demands. A domain stocked with books, each detailing as many tactics of war as there were whores in every Westerosi brothel, the solitude, the silence, they were both thick, hanging in the air with the prominence of a force of a nature. To the right there rested a large wooden cabinet, a store display with rows of small drawers adorned with scavenged items from the Watch's many conflicts with the wildlings. Kellan's eyes of pale, crystal blue were measured in their gaze as they rose from the solitary table to meet those of the reporting Ranger clad in black. "Were you successful in pushing the wildlings back?", the Lord Commander asked, his voice pausing in earnest, its low, deep timbre echoing with a cool, a gravitas that commanded respect.

"Yes, Lord Commander", one of the Rangers answered, his northern-accented words clear, his breath misting in the frigid air. He was stocky, this Ranger. His cheekbones were low, his jaw wide, his eyebrows thick, and his beard exaggerated. His shoulders were broad, and his arms as thick as logs. And his flesh, his flesh was pale. An almost colorless silver; a shade of one whose skin did not react to the sun. "The wildlings were waiting for us but we managed to split into three groups that outflanked them and forced them to break up their units by using a hail of arrows. Just as you instructed. They all looked for cover and retreated", the Ranger concluded, gloved hands held behind his back. "Good", Kellan paused, his words delivered in earnest, his features, rugged, lean, held not only the visage of honor, but an expression of approval. "We'll have to keep pushing them back until we hear no more of these rumors of an advance towards the Wall".

For a moment, the Ranger paused, and silence seized him by the throat. A damp chill seemed to find its way through many of the passages in Castle Black, running cold fingers down the Ranger's spine. Bumps formed at the edge of his skin and subtly, he shuddered. "What?", Kellan inquired, brow raised, the fur surcoat over his armor shielding him from all things gelid. "Nothing, just cold", the Ranger chuckled, "Guess winter really is coming, eh?", he grinned in jest. Words however, that left the Lord Commander's eyes darkened, and haunted. "Winter is coming", he repeated. Words whose true meaning now roamed the sands of an era lost to history. It was said that the North remembered. But the Knightfalls, they truly didn't forget. "Dismissed". Though as the Ranger's departure was made, another emerged.

"Márkus?", his breath caught in his chest. Rising to meet his brother's embrace, Kellan's shock, his surprise, was voiced. "I thought the Old Gods would have us both before I'd see you again", he smiled, "The Wall is a world apart from the realm. Even Frosthall. Why come this far north where all we see is snow and the blood that runs through it?".

The North Remembers

It was a saying that had been hammered into her head since birth. Her father had taught it to each of his children. Known throughout Westeros as the unofficial words of the north, it had been lost from the southern mythos throughout time. They had forgotten what the north remembered, why it remembered.

Even houses of the north had lost their collective memory. But Houses Stark, Knightfall, and Glyndwr? They remembered. The memories of their ancestors had been transcribed, the weapons stockpiled, the history preserved.

Yet still...there were those of the north who had forgotten over time. They had forgotten that eons ago the Wall had been built not to keep out the Wildings, but to prevent a future onslaught of White Walkers. It was a memory that many were happy to forget, and even go so far as to allowing themselves to believe it wasn't a memory, but a tall tale told as a cautionary story.

The North Remembers

Oh gods, how she wished she could forget, she thought bitterly.

Ten years ago she had lost the love of her life. Not to war or wound or murder. Not the way that she had lost her brother just prior. No, she had lost him to duty, to something he believed was greater than what they had. To something he cared for more dearly than her.

She had given him her heart for safekeeping and he had left it in the snow to freeze, wither, and die.

For two years she had remained at her family's ancestral seat, Snowhaven. For two years she had tried to make her parents proud. For two years she had heard the whispers of grief for her brother. For two years she had tried to perform duties that had been his, as well as her own, all with the shame hanging over her head of a broken betrothal.

For two years she had been dying on the inside, until she could take it no longer. If her love would not have her, if her love no longer believed in love, then neither would she. If he could find it in his heart to bury what they had so easily, then she would be determined to do the same.

And so she had buried it far beneath layers of the ice. Ice that was after all, her domain.

And she had traveled through the snow, into the oncoming winter, and traveled over The Wall. She'd spent years up north, learning from the wildings, honing her skills, and learning what the words 'The North Remembers' truly meant.

There was a threat on the horizon, one that was growing stronger and stronger as the nights grew longer and the temperatures colder. It was coming, and there was nothing in its path that it hadn't engulfed. The White Walkers 'lived' again, and this time an infectious disease was accompanying them.

The North Remembers

She repeated the mantra over and over in her head as she rode. The heavy hoofs of her white stallion, Storm, clipped against the icy snow. She was north, far north, past the wall. There was one entrance she had found, one that required no climbing, and she had utilized it only several times over the past years, afraid of leading somebody to it, or alerting the Watch of its existence.

Lyra, the dire wolf she had found as nothing more than a pup and was now two years old, ran ahead of them. She had imprinted on Aeron as a pup and stood steadfast by her side every since.

They were tracking a diseased dire wolf, one that had been infected with some sort of ravaging disease, and was making a beeline straight for the wall. If that wolf somehow managed to get over or through the wall, Aeron was afraid of what effects the disease would have on any it got transferred to.

Her eagle Arrow flapped his wings as he sailed through the skies, acting as her literal eye in the sky. Over the past years Aeron had perfected her abilities as a warg, and utilized all of the animals who stayed with her in order to give an edge.

They were no more than a day's ride from the Wall, and while she avoided it at all costs, she knew that she had no choice in this matter. If that wolf infected even one member of the Night's Watch, then they were going to have bigger and more emergent issues to worry about than the oncoming threat of the White Walkers.

She winced as that thought crossed her head. She supposed she would have to warn them of that particular threat, as well.

Great, just great. Yes, that was exactly what she wanted, to come into contact with the godsdamned Night Watch and her once-fated love, Kellan.

She pulled the hood of her cloak up over her raven hair to better protect her from the harsh winds. Despite the cold, she was thankful that it was currently snowing and that her tracks would quickly be obscured.

Clencing her knees against Storm, she took a deep breath and focused her energy as they darted through trees. Breathing in deeply, she sent her spirit outside of her body and into that of Arrow. It took her a second to readjust, just as it always did. As soon as she did, she utilized the bird's eye view as quickly as possible, knowing that her body was vulnerable to attack even as she was hunched over the mane of Storm.

It happened in slow motion. The group of wildlings came out from the trees and scattered across the snowy tundra, all making individual beelines for the path that Storm was traveling down with Aeron's unconscious body across her.

Lyra had scouted too far ahead to be able to prevent what was happening before Aeron's eyes as she watched from above.

Immediately she Warged out of Arrow and back into herself, but she knew that it wasn't enough time to stop them, to take any of them down.

There was a single moment of emptiness, of frozen, silent, emptiness as she entered her body again. But they were already on her, pulling her from the back of the horse. A cavalcade of punshes rained down on her face as the five of them started trying to rip her weapons from her.

But they weren't good enough, weren't fast enough, weren't tough enough.

Even as she feigned unconsciousness, she used split second precision to reach for the short dagger at her waist and slide it between the ribs of the wilding atop her, using all of her considerable strength.

She'd angled it up between his ribs towards his heart, and her aim was as true as always. He collapsed atop her, and she rolled out from under him, even as Lyra was bounding towards the group, howling with short bursts.

"She's awake, she's awake!"

"Get 'er real quick like, kill 'er dead."

Two of them rolled the body of their dead compatriot off of Aeron. The snow was too fluffy beneath her to allow her feet or back enough of a purchase to roll backwards, or back and forwards, and she was still under a haze from Warging.

She didn't even see the knife coming as it slipped through the slat in her armor by somebody who would have needed to have up close knowledge of how she had constructed it. Fury shot through her veins.

The icy coldness of the day suddenly changed to an oozing warmth as her blood began spilling down her side. It wasn't a mortal wound, not immediately, but she knew that it would be if she didn't get help soon enough.

"Go hunt something you can actually kill," she growled, just as Lyra bounded onto the scene and Arrow took a swooping dive. The second that a dire wolf showed up, it was game over, and within five minutes, all of the wildings were dispatched.

The North Remembers

Smoke rose in the air from the burning bodies as Aeron and her companions rode off. The smell of burnt flesh assaulted her nose, and the most worrisome thought of all was how commonplace that particular scent had become.

"Faster, faster," she urged quietly. Her head was starting to get foggy, her thoughts woozy. She was losing too much blood too quickly, and she needed healing and safe haven.

They rode for hours, longer than they would have normally. Arrow kept high to the skies, keeping a steady watch, as Lyra scouted ahead but always within sight of Storm. Aeron tried to keep herself from losing consciousness. She knew that if she went out in the cold and let hypothermia set in, there was every likelihood that she wouldn't wake.

Finally the Wall came into sight. She had never thought that once in her life she would be grateful to see it. it represented the Night's Watch, everything that burned her, everything that she hated, everything that she kept hoping she would finally just forget. It was bringing back to life feelings that she would have preferred to keep wrapped in their icy coffin.

But most of all, it hurt her pride. Hurt her that she would need anything from him.

Her heavy cloak spread out around the flanks of her horse and covered her silky blue-black hair. But her shield, strapped to the side of the horse was clear, and on it was the emblem of House Glyndwr - a bird rising from the ashes, just as they had risen from the ashes after the Long Night.

Storm whinnied and Lyra barked as Arrow took long swooping passes. She was fighting the black coming in at the sides of her vision, even as her blood seeped out of her body. She was approaching from the wrong side, but she was no wilding, they should know that from sight, from the fact that she had a wolf with her, from the sigil on her shield. They had to know, they had to let her in, she didn't have enough time to make it to the pass through the Wall.

Throwing her hood back, she turned her face up towards the Watch, bracing one hand on the neck of the horse to sturdy her in the seat, knowing that behind her was a trail of red drops in the snow.

@aeron:

Castle Black was a dreary domain. Kellan certainly thought so, his eyes, those pale pearls of crystal blue gazing upon the Sworn Brothers of the Night's Watch. He watched them, resting his gaze on their newest Rangers, rookies, untrained and raw. His breath misted from a sigh, the cool air whispering quietly from the stone balcony he stood on. These recruits were no men of war, their hearts held no lust for battle or honor. Some were lanky, their flesh pale as though they did not react to the sun. Others were stocky, and sweaty, their expressions oddly cheerful for men made to live in a place where banners of lifeless black and white did their best to brighten cold and gray walls of stone. "Fit to be maesters, not Rangers", the Lord Commander breathed, voicing his disapproval.

"I remember a lord, a southerner", began a voice, deep and with the timbre of stone breaking. A First Ranger approached. He was Rasi Snow, a Knightfall, a cousin and Kellan's finest warrior on the field. Towering some inches below seven feet, his height was enormous, as were his shoulders, and his tree trunk-like arms. Broad-chested and sculpted to the proportions of the giants that roamed the terrain beyond the Wall, he was a beast of a man. His cheekbones were sharp, his brow heavy, and his nose large and hooked. His hair was kept long and its shade of black seemed compatible with the onyx of his garments. Odd for one of northern blood, he was clean-shaven and without the ability to grow facial hair of any significance. His jaw was wide and strong, a square if a shape was to be its description. And yet, though he seemed a brute, he was soft spoken, a man of wisdom and culture.

"He'd come to drop his bastard off here, one of the boys there in the training yard", Rasi resumed, his thick, Northern inflection hanging with prominence in the cool air, his eyes of chocolate brown never meeting Kellan's gaze, perhaps yielding to the Lord Commander's gravitas and commanding presence, or perhaps it was simply respect. "The lord kept insisting to his boy that Castle Black was a crumbling ruin, that the Night's Watch was not worth the crown's expense or the manpower to repair", Rasi paused, "These are different times, Lord Commander. The Great Houses, the crown, they no longer take us seriously. They don't know what we know. This is the best they'll send us". His cousin's were words of wisdom, though the disgust was heard as it dripped from Kellan's voice, "And when the White Walkers come for them, they'll be begging us, the black sheep from this crumbling ruin to protect them".

There was silence for a moment. No conversation was made as training swords clanged and instructors yelled. A silence broken by the approach of yet another Ranger, one whose features held an expression of urgency. He spoke of a woman who claimed House Glyndwyr as her noble house, a woman who stained the ice with her blood as she waited for the Wall's gate to embrace her. Kellan's was an expression of earnest disbelief, eyebrows angling into a mild scowl that was both pensive and severe. In Rasi's company, he was directed to stairs of wood, anchored by large beams frozen into the Wall, stairs that guided him from Castle Black to the top of the Wall where frost collected at the edge of his beard and hair, and the tips of his surcoat's fur. Atop the Wall where the cold cracked skin and froze bone, his gaze rested on the sight of the one woman who struggled seven hundred feet below.

His jaw tightened. And his heart clamored in his chest, he hadn't anticipated this. His visage however, lean and hard, remained as cold as ice, as resolute as stone. "Open the gate".

@kellan_knightfall:

The sound of metal scraping against stone scraping against ice screeched through the air and alerted all in the immediate vicinity that the gate was opening. The shudders could be felt through the ground, and the air had gone eerily silent, a silence that was pierced by the screeching caw of Arrow as he flew in circles overhead.

Using some of her reserved strength, she looked up at the top of the Wall. She couldn't make out the distinctions of who it was, but she knew. Something in her always knew. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and a shiver coursed over her skin, one that had nothing to do with the cold, but everything to do with the mere presence of Kellan Knightfall.

Storm thundered slowly through the gates, with Aeron holding tightly onto her back. The moment that the gargantuan piece of architecture was shut behind them, mayhem broke out. Mutters were passed from brother to brother as they all stared at the woman in their midst.

"She's bleeding!"

"Fetch the Maester."

"Who the hell is she?"

"This is why we don't keep women around, too fragile, too soft."

It was the last that caught her attention. She was injured. Badly enough that if she didn't get the help she needed it wouldn't be a pretty sight, but not so bad that she couldn't take a couple of the Night's Watch to town and show them what was what.

Weapons were drawn as they surrounded Storm. Lyra slinked around the edges, out of notice as her fur blended in with the surroundings. The moment that somebody spoke ill of Aeron, her presence was made known as she hunched to the ground and prepared to attack while letting loose a blood-curdling snarl.

Aeron shot her a look that commanded her to stay as she dismounted from her horse. It took much of her energy to prevent her knees from buckling beneath her. She adjusted her swooping cloak just enough to hide the traces of blood. There were red spots on the snow and it was obvious that she was in some form of distress, but she'd be damned if she let anybody see just what the problem was.

She slowly drew a dagger from her waist and palmed it straight against her hand, slipped just slightly between two fingers so she could grip it and throw it should she need to.

"She's Glyndwr," somebody whispered, and immediately all were more interested than before.

There were seven of them in a loosely formed circle around her, all of varying ages, heights, and weights. Begrudgingly she had to admit that Kellan had had a point so many years ago when he spoke of the mockery that the Night's Watch had become over the years.

Swords hung loosely at their sides with improper form and in bad repair. Aeron shot all of them an icy glare, one that was exaggerated by the pale blue of her eyes. They were eyeing Lyra and Storm, the finest horse that many of them had ever seen. "If anything happens to any of them, I'll be taking it out of your hide," she promised.

The hairs on the back of her neck tingled again, and she knew that Kellan was approaching her general vicinity. She wished she could burn the feel of him from her mind, she wished she could truly ice him out of your heart. "I need some of your healing salve, not a Maester, and then I'll be on my way for the most part," she promised.

Still they circled around her, treating her as if she were an enemy. Lyra snarled again and Aeron gave her a hand signal to hold steady. "She came from the wrong side of the Wall," one of the boys whispered. By her guess he was no older than thirteen. The furs he wore hung off of him, his skin had a greyish pallor to it like he'd never seen a full day of sun, and his hair hung just a little too long. He moved jerkily, bringing his sword up as he rushed for Aeron.

He thrust, and she slipped to the side, avoiding the thrust. It allowed her to move in close to him. She flipped the dagger down into the palm of her hand, reversed her grip and held it to his throat. She was doing everything that she could not to lose consciousness, but she'd be damned if a freaking Crow was going to get one over on her. And a baby Crow nonetheless. "Drop your sword, now."

@aeron:

The sweat of men, the scent of it, sharp and warm, seemed unnatural in air so cold. What manner of beast drops beads of sweat in a domain cold enough to freeze them? And yet, the scent of it hung strongly in the cool air. Alongside it? Whispering voices, murmured words spoken in a tone whose hushed timbre sounded forced. As if not to draw the ire of their Lord Commander should he come, nay, when he came. His ingress was certain. This Glyndwyr woman, to him, was once his greatest friend. And once his love. And her blood, staining the snow and ice so clearly, would spill no more, not in his stronghold, not in Castle Black. In the sky above, the expanse of blue seemed pale, marred by clouds and a subtle shade of gray.

And the sun? Though it hung, high in the sky with prominence, its rays were not warm, they were not felt by the flesh of these Sworn Brothers. The sun it seemed, was merely there, not to shine in full force, but simply to watch these events unfold. The boy was thirteen, unfit to be a Ranger, Kellan certainly thought so. He'd committed a mistake, the boy. In charging, foolishly, against one of House Glyndwyr's finest warriors, a woman whose femininity was never known as much as her prowess on the battlefield. Even with the dagger's blade, its cutting edge held inches from his throat, his gloved fingers seemed to coil tighter around the hilt of his sword. In his chest, his heart clamored with anticipation, with pride. Too much pride to yield.

As if he'd rather this stronghold, blemished by snow, and of graying stone walls to be his final resting place than drop his sword to the threat of a woman, and in his opinion, a wildling. He spoke no words, silence had seized him by the throat before Aeron's dagger had. A chill, damp and eerie, ran cold fingers down his young little spine, and left bumps at the edges of his pale, silvery skin. Then, then the whispers and murmurs of the Sworn Brothers who watched in their eager circle, they disappeared, and a presence all too commanding and familiar rendered them disciplined. A gravitas that was thick in the atmosphere, thick enough to silence even the proud northerners of the Night's Watch. They hung their heads and left their gazes to the dirt and snow on the ground as he walked.

Walked with the coldest confidence dripping from each footstep as the circle around Glyndwyr and crow broke. Oozed an aura of bold and taciturn aggression, one that promised he'd emasculate and break any man who stood in his way. He was tall, Kellan. At six feet and three inches, he towered over most men. His build was stocky, broad-shouldered and muscled like a maiden's dream. His armor, like his brothers', was black. His approach grew closer, and a quiet intensity was worn on his features, even as the frost collected on his beard, his raven curls, and his fur surcoat. The cold was no obstacle, and behind his icy gaze, there was a mute fire. He was a tall man of fine sculpt. Yet he who walked beside him, was even larger. Rasi, a First Ranger. He was something to behold.

Where Kellan was bearded, Rasi was clean shaven. And where Kellan's hair was curly, and medium in length, Rasi's was straight, and long. He was a giant, standing at six feet and nine inches. His legs were as thick as trees, his chest worthy of a plow horse, and his shoulders were those of an ox. On the battlefield, Kellan carried a longsword, and Rasi? A spiked iron warhammer. Though where Kellan's footsteps continued, Rasi's ended. The Lord Commander approached, and with his fingers on the boy's collar and a tug, he yanked him from Aeron's hold and left his back and sword on the dirt with a glare that commanded him to return to practice or be disciplined. The boy whimpered, and his brothers spoke for him. "L..Lord Commander, he's a Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch".

They certainly seemed convinced that he was. Kellan, to say the least, was not. "Sworn Brothers fight wildlings. Not Glyndwyrs", the Knightfall corrected them, his voice cool and low, deep and born for leadership. "This is the first time you've questioned me. You can count it as your last", he warned. Then as they forced themselves into silence, the Lord Commander's gaze moved to rest on Aeron, and in that moment, though he hid it well, his breath escaped him. She always had that impact on him. He still found her beautiful. And even clearer was the strength of her spirit. His stubborn, warrior's will. He knew she resented him. Her reason was after all, valid. She'd given him his heart and he broke it, left her behind for the Night's Watch.

Though his hard, lean visage betrayed no vulnerability, it was the most difficult decision he'd ever made. But he felt it then and he felt it now as their eyes met, it was what he had to do. Still, he thought of her everyday. Dreamed of her every night. In this moment so bittersweet, his heart was told not to flutter. "Rasi, escort them back to the training yard and keep the animals safe". Kellan commanded, and Rasi complied. The Sworn Brothers held respect for Kellan, but their fear for Rasi was clear, the memory of the giant burying his warhammer into the skulls of wildlings and splattering their brains burned deeply in their minds. By his lead, they departed and by him, the animals were protected. And now, Kellan there stood with the woman he once intended, with all his heart to marry.

How things change. "Come, I'll give you some of my healing salve", he promised, and with a gesture, asked that she follow him to the Commander's Keep where he kept many a jar.

@kellan_knightfall:

Their eyes met across the head of the teenagers and for a moment, something inside of Aeron faltered. Was that...no...no, it couldn't be. She'd thought she'd seen something in him, sensed something there, but as soon as she took a closer look, it was gone. It couldn't have been what she'd thought. She couldn't allow herself to believe that anything for her still lingered in him. The possibility of them having a chance was a possibility that was too painful to contemplate.

She immediately shoved the ensuing emotions down and her momentarily heated ice blue gaze became shuttered and guarded yet again.

He was astonishing...breathtaking, but so unlike the person she had known once. The Kellan she had loved had been a boy of twenty. His musculature was lithe and honed, but he had never seen true battle. The Kellan who stood before her was a man of thirty-one. He was battle hardened, wisened, and so much more than she had anticipated. It wasn't fair, not fair at all. And she was so afraid that he still had the power to melt her, but in very different ways than before.

She watched carefully as Rasi walked off and knew that if Kellan trusted him to protect her companions, then protected they were be. Kellan was known for his trustworthy and steadfast nature, always had been. Of course the singular exception to that rule of thumb was her, wasn't it?

"Thanks," she replied tersely.

She took in the layout as they walked, and refused to let her stance falter. No weakness would be shown, not emotional and certainly not physical. The eyes of the Watch followed her as she moved through Castle Black, and the hairs on the back of her neck were on edge, which was never a good sign.

As she followed Kellan into one of the smaller rooms, she unhooked her cloak and settled it on a small chair set off to the side of the room. She slowly and painstakingly removed her armor, wincing as she saw how the wildling had slipped his knife between the one weak point, one that she had gone to great length to hide. That worried her.

She placed her armor across the scarred wooden table, avoiding the books and half-melted candles that were strewn about it. He stepped momentarily into her space to hand her the small pot of healing salve and she caught his scent. Her eyes closed for a moment as she instinctively breathed him in. "Again, thanks," she said, softer this time than last. "You can leave if you're inclined, I can handle healing salve myself."

She didn't know how to be any way other than this with him. She didn't know how to be happy and cheerful and warm in his presence anymore. She didn't know how to be anything other than closed off, gated, and protected. Because if she didn't protect herself now, it was going to be worse than ever before.

Aeron sat on the edge of the table and lifted the leather she wore underneath her armor up, revealing the milky expanse of her skin. With her back turned to him, just the slight edges of scars that marked her skin could be seen. They were the result of battle; blades, arrows, claws. Just the same as many of Kellan's brethren carried.

She was no longer Lady Glyndwr, and that much was abundantly clear.

Ripping off a long length of cloth from the rag that had been set down on the table, she quickly tied it around her slim ribcage with expert speed and precision. Slipping the leather back down over it, she turned to face him, her face as guarded as always. "When was the last time you or your men were beyond the Wall?"

If she stuck to business, if she remained stoic and emotionless, maybe she would come through this intact.

@aeron:

The chill in the air, gelid and creeping up his spine like frozen fingertips, seemed far too present. Even his surcoat of wolf fur, thick and warm, failed to shield the nape of his neck, the cold touch of frosted air passed through and made the flesh of it bumpy and dry. For a moment he wondered why he, a northerner, the Lord Commander no less, of a military order stationed in the coldest reaches of the realm, now seemed bothered by the cold. Why he felt... vulnerable. And once inside the tower, the Commander's Keep, his eyes of pale, crystal blue rested on this woman who uncloaked herself and retired to a small chair, and then and there, he knew why. She was the source of it, why he felt vulnerable.

He watched as she removed her armor and her scars were made visible. He did his best to avert his gaze from her, to focus on his books of military tactics and strategy. The longer he laid eyes on her, the thicker the lump in his throat became. Palms of gloved hands were braced against the table of wood, as if the Knightfall was pushing down against it with all his might, trying to bring the table down. He wasn't. He was stressed. And tense. For a moment, he sighed, and his eyelids shut. Greeting him was an image. An image of himself. He was seated at a chair, a throne even. The banners decorating the halls were neither of House Knightfall or House Glyndwyr. They were colorful, livelier than the stone walls of gray that seemed characteristic of northern architecture. Leaned against his throne whose frame was of stone, a greatsword forged from Valyrian steel.

To his right? A direwolf larger than most. Eyes of sapphire blue, and fur as white as snow and as perfect as the snowflakes that comprise them. And to his left? A second throne. And on it? Aeron. She wore a long dress of red and gold. They were married. And he was King of the North. A North who'd fought and made its sovereignty known. It was an image, a fantasy, a 'what if?' that soon faded and to his mind, reality returned. A reality where he led a dying shell of what the Night's Watch once was, led them undermanned, under-armed in a crusade against a threat that the Seven Kingdoms no longer believed to be real. He grew pensive, but his trance was broken. The voiced gratitude of the Glyndwyr Arrow calling him. He turned and met her gaze, his resolve in the Night's Watch and his purpose, shaken but not broken. "You're welcome", he breathed, doing his best to maintain a visage that was of hard, lean stone.

"No its fine. I'll stay", he paused, reaching for a book before flipping through its weathered pages, index finger stopping at a chapter that discussed his most preferred tactics; the use of flanking archers on horseback to either congest an enemy force, or break their formations. "You're a Glyndwyr but my rangers saw you come from beyond the Wall. To them, banner or not, you're a wildling. I risk their trust just by allowing you to set foot inside Castle Black. Leaving you in the Commander's Keep on your own? They'd hang me for that", he remarked. "They'd write stories about the Lord Commander who was foolish enough to leave a wildling in his keep, unsupervised and free to study the Night's Watch's tactics and strategies. Its one of the reasons I decided to stay instead of leave".

"Also", Kellan paused, meeting her gaze, and for the briefest moment, his features softened, even if subtly, "It is good to see you again. Know that you're alive". Since he'd last seen her, she was no more than a teenage girl, yet her fierce spirit, her wolfish air, and fiery independence had always been there. Now? She was a woman. Grown and beautiful, but more warrior than woman it seemed. More fighter than lady. Then came the one question. He felt the cap of his knee tingle in response, a reminder of his injury on the field. One he'd never fully recover from. One that had reduced his once explosive blend of grappling and swordsmanship to a more technical approach, one reliant on the economy of motion and conservation of energy. "No less than a day ago did my rangers return from an assignment beyond the Wall. Why?".

@kellan_knightfall:

She scoffed. "Your men can call me what they want and believe of me what they will, but I'm the reason that half of them are able to sleep in their moderately warm beds," she replied nonchalantly. They were not as well trained as they needed to be, and if it hadn't been for her watching the backs of Rangers on their missions, their numbers would be nearly halved.

Her pride still burned over the fact that she had needed aid, let alone from him. For the past years she had worked in tandem with the Night's Watch without their knowledge, even as she learned from the wildings. She had one foot in both worlds, but lived in neither. It was a lonely life, but it was one that had forged her into the woman she was, the Warrior of the Wilds. They whispered of such a figure, a hooded woman spotted in the North and beyond the Wall. They told stories of her.

She turned to face the window slowly, containing her wince until her back was turned. Looking out at the snowy drifts and the soft flakes falling relentlessly against the grey sky, she closed her eyes slowly and took a deep breath, as quiet as she could make it to prevent him from deciphering her emotional state from her body language. She wished his features hadn't softened. Why couldn't he remain cold? She needed him cold so that she could hold onto the hate and the hurt. She couldn't risk the ice around her heart melting.

Her lip curled at that and she turned to look at him over her shoulder, those eyes snapping with pale blue iciness. He looked so strong, so dashing, so commanding. The lines of his jaw were strong, the slight stubble there added a rogueish quality that drew her attention. He was a man now, the Lord Commander, so much more than the boy she had loved. So much more dangerous to her. And he wanted to tell her how he was happy to see her? How he was happy she was alive? When he had no care for her well being at all when he left her with nothing but shattered dreams and a splintered heart? Where did he get the nerve?

Aeron stepped away from the window and turned her back to the snow as she skirted around the edge of the room, around the table that he gripped so fiercely. "There are creatures beyond the Wall the likes that we've never seen before."

They had both heard the stories as children, both learned what they had known as folk tales and old legends. Both of their houses played pivotal roles in the turning of the tides once upon a time and both had weapons that survived, including the weapons that Aeron and her sister now carried with them. But knowing and believing, knowing and seeing, they were not the same. She knew and she believed, she knew and she'd seen, with her own eyes what monstrosities lay in wait for them. Monstrosities were marching on them at this very moment.

"How many of your men are missing?" she asked quietly as she turned and began walking slowly towards one of the bookcases filled with ancient texts.

@aeron:

Her words, echoed not by the feminine timbre of a noble lady, but by the willful edge of a strong woman, rang with truth. He could have sworn, the Lord Commander, that he heard the distaste, the disgust dripping from the Glyndwyr Arrow's voice. Again the air seemed to grow colder, more inhospitable and burrowing into his flesh like spikes of ice. This cold however, was intangible. It was not emotional. Not the kind birthed from a fated encounter with the woman he once loved. Not the cold that had crept up his spine like an ice nymph's fingers. This was the cold of a coming winter. Outside, frost hung in the air and grew thicker by the minute. Eyes of sapphire, Kellan's, searched for the neighboring window and stared, his features anxious and earnest.

The weather was worsening. Snow descended from clouds of gray and a storm was born. Ice and snow clattered against the glass of windows, and whichever trees held the strength to survive this far north, creaked in protest. On the training yard, the Rangers fled indoors, and Kellan, he held confidence in Rasi to ensure the safety of Aeron's animals. From the window, his gaze averted and returned to the page upon which his finger remained. He sighed, his breath misting in air so cold it could crack flesh, and he recalled her words, those of the Warrior of the Wilds, Aeron. She was right, partially at least. "My Rangers are unfit. Isolate them and on their own they're some of the poorest warriors you could find. Nothing but babes with swords", Kellan conceded, his pride in the Night's Watch intact.

"And many owe their lives to what you do for them beyond the Wall. But you're only half right", he paused, eyes focused on the book resting atop the table, on its pages, on the paragraph that detailed the tactical use of terrain, of a military formation whereby soldiers are arranged in a rectangular mass and armed with shields locked together and spears projected out over every rank of shields, a shield wall and a mass of spears pointed to enemy forces from every angle, and the use of flanking archers to protect the formation from vulnerable angles. From a distance, the archers rained down their arrows, breaking up enemy formations, forcing them to retreat or seek cover, or back them into a congested, compact space whereby then, then the Lord Commander's formation of shields and spears would drive into them and leave nothing in its wake.

"My Rangers are poor soldiers, individually. But with my guidance, they're a competent fighting force", Kellan added, closing the book and lifting from the table, his hands. He turned to meet Aeron's gaze and he made a conscious effort to remain a man of stone, of ice. He couldn't. In instinct, his features seemed to soften before her. A stark difference from the man wildlings said not to make direct eye contact with and risk losing their steely will. Before Aeron, his commanding intensity, quiet and colder than the nighttime winter winds across the northern prairie, disappeared. On the battlefield, he was a genius tactician, a born leader and a warrior whose steely stare and blade delivered his enemies to their maker with the same level of interest with which one blinks. Before Aeron, the man famous for breaking from warriors their will to live, did not exist.

Did not exist for that one brief moment, until again he spoke and his steel and icy spirit returned to him. "It seems that even as we walk our separate paths. Me on the Wall, you.. beyond it, Knightfall and Glyndwyr have, somehow, found their hands working together. Keeping Rangers alive". It was... strange. He watched her walk, stride towards a neighboring bookcase and his heart clamored in his chest at the sight, of a stride that was all too familiar. His betrothal ring, adorning his finger and hidden by his gloves, seemed to itch then burn into his flesh. He still wore it. He'd never removed it. He clung to it. It reminded him of why he was there, in the Night's Watch. Reminded him of the hardest decision he'd ever made in his life, to leave behind the woman he loved so dearly in order to fulfill a duty he felt the realm neglected. To protect it against the White Walkers.

He remembered the night he'd left and became a Ranger. When he took the oath and swore to defend the Seven Kingdoms against the darkness. He remembered asking himself, "If I don't, who will?", and he remembered praying to the old gods, never the new, praying to them for Aeron's forgiveness. The gods it seemed, did not answer his prayer. Perhaps he should have prayed to the new. Finally, he answered her question, "Almost half", he paused, his curiosity growing, "What did you see beyond the Wall?", he asked. White Walkers? He believed they existed, but Aeron, Aeron knew, she's seen. Kellan, he merely believed. And belief could be broken, disproved.

@kellan_knightfall:

Her lashes drifted over her eyes and brushed against her cheeks as she bowed her head slightly while still facing the towering bookcase. The pride warred with what sounded like sorrow and regret in his voice and a sharp pang struck her like the stab of a knife to know that something she'd said caused that.

She fought the urge to ask him if it was worth it. That road led only to more sorrow, more sadness, more stark loneliness. Instead she looked back over her shoulder at him, allowing with hesitance one moment of pure emotion on her face, only to shutter it almost immediately. Why did he have to soften in front of her? Before she could stop herself, she whispered one simple word. "Don't." The sound barely escaped her lips, but her breath condensed in the cold air and her face softened for that one melodic syllable.

She needed him to remain the cold commander. She needed him to remain the man she hated. Because if she saw facets of the boy she had known, the boy she had loved with such wild and reckless abandon, she would lose her will. And down that path lay madness and heartbreak. And her heart couldn't take any more of that.

"Your men have strong formations when they don't run scared and when they're not up against the sporadic tactics of the wildings. They have basic skills, but they're lacking experience," she conceded. And that would change soon enough. It had to.

Silence fell between them as he revealed the numbers. This was worse than she thought, far worse. The wildings were losing numbers quickly, but they had gone far past the point of believing the White Walkers to be simple myth. They were united in a way that not even Mance Rayder had been able to unite them. There was no such thing as clan loyalties or feuds when something so primal and deadly as the White Walkers existed and was coming for you regardless.

She pulled a particular book from the shelf, one that contained pertinent 'mythology' from millenia ago. One that spoke of the White Walkers in veiled language. She carried it over and placed it on the table in front of him, instead of handing it directly to him and risking closer contact than she already had.

"It's worse than anything we've encountered before, Lord Commander," she said, very careful to use his title opposed to his given name, although it was a title that she laced with verbal venom. It was a reaction she couldn't help, and one that she was annoyed to find she regretted.

"It's not just White Walkers. Gods, I wish it was only White Walkers." A slow almost hysterical giggle slipped from her lips, only to be quickly muffled by her hand. Who would have ever thought such a sentence would ever leave anybody's mouth? "Sorry," she muttered, only to immediately regret that as well. She had no intention of apologizing to him for anything, ever.

Walking over to the other side of the table, she leaned against the wall behind her and loosely crossed her arms over her chest with the slightest of winces as her quickly-healing wound pulled against its bandages. "There's some sort of sickness that is traveling. I don't know if it's related to the White Walkers or not, but it's ravaging wildlife."

plots to climb the damn Wall >_>

@aeron:

The silence settled between them, too tangible not to inspire greater tension. And for that moment, the air indoors seemed colder than the freezing winds that ran rampant outside. He averted his gaze, Kellan, removing his fur surcoat before unstrapping his armor. Armor that was thick and a witness of many a battle. From his frame, hard and conditioned for the rigors of battle, he lifted his armor, resting it with care atop his bed, the Commander's place of sleep. His eyes, those haunted pools of cold, sapphire, seemed to linger on his armor for but a moment. The surcoat, draped atop the armor worn by all of the Watch's Lord Commander, it was a symbol, a constant reminder of a life's decision that has brought him much pain and loss, all in the name of duty.

Adorning his frame was the traditional, the characteristic black of the Watch's Sworn Brothers. It was leather and partially wet from frost that was left warm by his body temperature beneath layers of armor. From his left hand, he removed the onyx glove and quickly, its flesh was met with the cold kiss of winter's wind. Then as his hand moved to remove the glove adorning his right, he froze. His right hand, his betrothal ring was still secured around a finger, never removed since the day he'd slid it on. He felt his breath catch in his throat, his heart skip a beat, and his features, barbate and rugged, grew anxious. What would she think? Why did he care what she would think? After all, he, like any person, has things, memories, experiences he held dear to his heart.

He sighed, again his breath misting in the cold air, and his eyes were closed, even if for only a second. He removed the glove and turned round to face her, meeting her gaze just as whisper reached him, 'Don't', her voice pleaded, in a timbre uncharacteristically soft and feminine for the Glyndwyr Arrow. Soon conversation resumed and cut through the blanket of silence like the sharp edge of a sword through flesh. The book he'd opened, of military tactics and strategies, he returned to it, closing its pages and resting his palm on its cover, his gaze holding Aeron's. "I know", he yielded somewhat quietly, "Even with my tactics, my Rangers lack discipline", Kellan paused, "At least when I'm not there on the battlefield with them to enforce that discipline. To give them morale".

Bracing a palm against the cold, wooden surface of a neighboring wall, Kellan, somewhat subtly, tilted his head to the side, curiosity painting over his earnest visage as Aeron, hoping to enlighten him, rested a book atop the table before them, a book detailing what the North knew of the White Walkers. His eyes fell on the book, a text he'd read many times over when waiting for the return of his Rangers from operations beyond the Wall. Then as she spoke, addressed him with derision as Lord Commander, his face of curiosity faded, and in its place, an expression marred by a frown. The formality, simple and meaningless to those unaware of his and Aeron's history, stung him deeply. No different than a blade shredding his heart and leaving its bleeding remains to fall to the pit of his stomach.

He said nothing of it. Why would he? When he'd left her for the Night's Watch, he'd forced upon her the exact same feeling, only magnified many times over. He dared not imagine her heartache, he simply hoped she understood, and a part of him believed she did, still, and rightfully so, she resented him. Who wouldn't? His heart sank as he imagined her on the night he'd left, standing in the snow, alone and waiting there for him to return. He wanted to be with her, so much that it pained him. But the word, the White Walkers, they demanded that he fight, that he defend the realm. He was quiet, until as if by the power of a spell, her words, 'Sorry', returned his gaze to her. He didn't know what to say to that, how to respond to it. And so, he didn't.

He responded, instead, to the information she revealed. "A sickness?", he began, "I'd thought my Rangers were speaking nonsense. Some would return and report something killing animals and bringing back the dead. I thought it was just the inexperienced Ranger's account of wights. Seems as though there's something more". Gazing at the window, he seemed, the Lord Commander, to be gauging the weather. It was harsh but enough to deter him. He'd made up his mind. Quickly, he adorned himself with the armor and fur surcoat he'd removed some minutes before. He was frantic as he gathered his longsword, his bow and a number of arrows.

"I have to investigate this. A unit of Rangers'll accompany me. You're free to leave whenever you'd like. I'll instruct Rasi to keep the Watch in check so that you and your animals are not attacked by the Sworn Brothers". With his sword in its scabbard, he headed for the door, offering a final gaze upon the woman he was once to marry. What could he say? He didn't know. "Goodbye, Aeron", he uttered, his voice soft and hushed, even intimate. A moment's later, he'd alerted Rasi to his instructions, and with a band of Rangers on horseback, the Lord Commander rode for the lands that lie beyond the Wall.

@kellan_knightfall: