Lost in Sothoryos | A Game of Thrones fanfic

(Location: Haunted Forest)

(Time: Night)

Daeron's weary steps carried him to where Jeor and the remaining members of the Night's Watch had sought refuge within the haunted forest. The sight that greeted him was one of devastation and despair. The once formidable force of three hundred had been reduced to a mere fifty, their bodies battered and bloodied, their spirits worn thin.

Jeor, bearing the weight of his leadership responsibilities, looked upon the surviving men with a mix of sorrow and determination. He acknowledged the grim reality that only a fraction of their original numbers had managed to escape the clutches of the wights and Others. The toll of the battle was evident in the weary faces and wounded bodies that surrounded him.

As Daeron approached, Jeor's gaze met his, a glimmer of recognition shining through the exhaustion. "Jon," he rasped, his voice laced with fatigue. "Only fifty of us remain. We've suffered heavy losses."

Daeron nodded solemnly, his features etched with a mixture of grief and resolve. He understood the magnitude of their sacrifices and the daunting task that lay ahead. However, Jeor's next words struck a chord of astonishment within him.

"And that dragon," Jeor continued, his voice filled with a blend of awe and disbelief. "To think that such mythical creatures have returned... It's a sign, Jon. A sign that the world itself is on the brink of upheaval. The long night may be upon us once more."

Daeron's mind swirled with the implications of Jeor's words. The return of dragons, the encroaching darkness, and the relentless onslaught of the wights and Others—The ancient prophecies and legends suddenly took on a chilling relevance.

Silently, Daeron's eyes scanned the faces of the weary Night's Watchmen. He knew that their journey was far from over.

'Shiera stay out of sight, it'll only spook them' Daeron says to her to which she sends a mental affirmation.

Through the unrelenting darkness of the haunted forest, Daeron and the remaining members of the Night's Watch pressed on, their weary bodies and battered spirits propelling them forward. They trudged through the dense snow and undergrowth, their steps heavy and laboured, fueled by sheer determination and the urgency to find refuge.

Hours turned into an entire night, and as the sun rose to cast its feeble light upon the forest, the weary men continued their arduous journey. Every step was a struggle, their muscles aching, and their minds plagued by the constant fear of pursuit.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the silhouette of Craster's Keep emerged in the distance—a glimmer of hope amidst the desolate wilderness. Daeron's heart quickened with a mix of relief and trepidation. They had reached their destination, but the question lingered: had they managed to elude the relentless pursuit of the Others?

The Lord Commander ordered a halt to the men as he went inside to deal with Craster and bargain for refuge. Daeron joined him as he would need to explain what had happened when he came here.

Jeor bangs his meaty fist on the door, the entire frame shaking, after a few minutes a girl, one of Crasters' younger wives answered the door. She sees the man whom she recognises as the Lord Commander and opens the door to let him in, her eyes brighten when she sees Daeron with him and he gives her a gentle smile making her blush.

As they walk inside they are led by the wife to where the older wives resided, they had taken charge of things around here for the time being after Craster's end.

They see Daeron and all smile "I'm glad to see that you've come back though you look a little worse for wear, come sit" she says while two of the wives corral him into Crasters old seat offering him a drink which he happily takes.

Jeor, a man who had met with Craster many times was in disbelief, seeing his wives cater to Daeron like that when he said he'd cut the tongue out of anyone who would speak to his wives or take the hand of anyone who would touch them.

Jeor wasn't stupid however, he knew what this meant and cleared his throat getting the attention of Daeron "Would you mind explaining yourself" Jeor said sternly, narrowing his eyes at him.

Daeron sighs as he looks at the wives surrounding them, when he first saw them they looked so beaten and broken but now for the first time they looked hopeful "I dragged Craster out of his keep and I struck him down" he says looking at Jeor in the eyes.

Jeor sighs "Gods lad we needed him, he's been the difference between life and death for rangers on more than one occasion" Jeor shouts out.

Daeron narrows his gaze at Jeor "Did you know what he was doing out here…" he said in a low and dangerous tone.

Jeor has a grim expression on his face "Craster did things the old way… it wasn't any of our business"

Daeron looks at him with cold eyes "Tell that to the mountain of bodies we left behind at the fist of the first men, I imagine we'll see them again"

Daeron then ignores the Lord Commander turning back to the women "Do you all still wish to leave" he asks the girls, and they all nod their heads "Then it shall be" Daeron states.

"Jon, there are nearly 20 women here, you expect us to take them across the wall and do what? There are no women of the night watch you know that" Jeor speaks gruffly. Daeron has had enough of the Lord Commander, his respect for the man plummeting as he allowed Craster to keep sacrificing his sons to the others.

Daeron sighs and gets up "Do not worry Lord Commander they'll be my responsibility I will make sure to find a way to care for them" He states.

"Tell the men to get some rest we shouldn't linger here," Daeron tells him before heading off to go outside, he needed some air.

The men of the Night made camp around Craster homestead, they were either injured or exhausted, in most cases both. But one man Karl Tanner was infuriated at being told to sleep outside in the cold. He had just been through hell and back fighting ancient enemies beyond the wall and they couldn't spare a room. He had been talking to some of the other men who felt the same way, they planned to force their way into the main house and demand more food and a better place to sleep.

———————————————————

Daeron, seeking solace from the tensions within Craster's Keep, ventured into the depths of the haunted forest. He walked among the gnarled trees and tangled undergrowth, the darkness enveloping him like a shroud. As he strolled, the distant sounds of the Night's Watch preparing for the inevitable battles echoed faintly in the night air.

Finding respite on a fallen log, Daeron took a moment to gather his thoughts. The crisp night air filled his lungs, carrying with it a mix of pine and earthy scents. The forest around him was alive with its symphony—the rustling of leaves, the whispering wind, and the occasional hoot of an owl.

Lost in his thoughts, Daeron suddenly felt a presence behind him. His heart skipped a beat as he sensed movement, and before he could react, a pair of slender arms wrapped gently around his neck. A chill ran down his spine as he turned his head, his eyes widening at the sight before him.

There she stood, the girl from the cave. Her pale, moonlit skin seemed to shimmer in the ambient light, casting an otherworldly glow upon her delicate features. Her hair, flowing like fresh snow, framed a face that held an ethereal beauty, while her eyes, like deep pools of azure, sparkled with an enigmatic allure.

As her arms enveloped Daeron, a sense of inexplicable contentment washed over him. The world around him seemed to fade into the background as if there were only the two of them at that moment. He couldn't quite comprehend why, but the touch of her slender arms against his skin ignited a surge of warmth that spread through his veins.

In that intimate embrace, Daeron felt a peculiar resonance, a connection that went beyond the physical. It was as if their very essences were attuned to each other, their presence sparking a harmonious response within his being. His magical abilities, dormant and restrained, awakened with a thrilling pulse, responding to the touch of this enigmatic girl.

The power within Daeron, long kept in check, surged forth in a gentle resonance. It seemed to dance with delight, mirroring the pleasure he felt in the embrace. A subtle thrumming coursed through his veins, resonating with the energy that flowed from her.

She then climbed onto Daeron's lap straddling him as they both looked into each other's eyes, her naked form excited him her body was cold but it was still soft. They lean forward to kiss each other again before she pulls away and looks behind her. Jon can see the form of Coldhands who was getting off his elk.

Daeron can see her face frown before she looks at him and smiles before pecking him on the lips and getting off him, with a gust of wind she disappears as if she was never there. Coldhands looks tired as he sits down beside Daerons.

They don't say anything to each other for a while but eventually, Daerons curiosity gets the better of him "Who is she, you know" Daeron states.

"Even after all these years I'm not sure, even during my first life she was already old" Coldhands simply says with a shrug.

Daeron turns to face Coldhands "Who are you" Coldhands doesn't reply for a minute before taking his cowl and hood off. Under the hood was a man who looked remarkably similar to Daeron, with dark curly hair, and dark eyes.

"As you can see I'm a Stark, I won't tell you my name, I lost my right to it a long time ago" Coldhands states as he puts his hood back up.

"It was in the haunted forest where I first saw her. I thought she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I had to make her mine, and you could say I did I gave her my seed and my soul along with it. Most of the creatures she birthed are ones you've seen before—The Others" he continues.

"She's the one who controls the Others!" Daeron shouts out in surprise

"No, she doesn't care about them, she's not evil but she doesn't care who dies or is killed in her pursuit of her goal" Coldhands explains.

"What does she want," Daeron asks.

Coldhands looks at Daeron "Connection… someone like her, she is alone in the world so she wants to find someone, but every time she's tried she's failed"

"Failed?" Daeron frowns at the implication.

"I was the best candidate, Starks have always had magic as some intermarried with the children, it's where your skin changing comes from, but your ice magic is because she is your direct ancestor" Coldhands stated bluntly.

Shock couldn't even describe how Daeron was feeling right now he couldn't even speak "She managed to birth one child that didn't turn out like the Others, it was at that time I realised what I was turning into I sent the child away"

"But why? If all she wanted was to have someone like her it couldn't be too bad" Daeron asks.

"Look at me… this is the fate of those touched by her magic, my skin is cold and dead and my heart no longer beats, look at yourself, your skin is pale your hair is like snow and your eyes blue stars, I'd even wager that your heartbeat isn't as fast as before. Every time you use your magic it'll get worse" He says sternly.

"She doesn't want anything dead as her own heart still beats" he continues as Daeron starts to get uncomfortable.

"What can I do to stop it…" he asks in a low tone.

"You can't, your fate was sealed the moment she awakened your magic, now it's just a matter of time," He says with a shrug. Daeron just sits there letting the news sink in, knowing his fate was to become a living corpse was hard to hear.

"You should get going, something happening at the keep," Coldhands says as he turns around in the keep's direction.

———————————————————

Daeron was running back towards the keep, he feared that the Others had caught up with them and were so slaughtering the remaining members of the watch.

As Daeron burst through the thick foliage, his breath ragged and heart pounding, his eyes were met with a distressing sight. A group of thirty-five Night's Watch brothers stood outside the main house of Craster's Keep, their faces etched with desperation and anger. Among them, Karl Tanner and Dirk, two brothers he had rarely interacted with, led the charge, their voices rising in a cacophony of threats and demands.

The air crackled with tension as the men hammered on the sturdy door, their fists pounding against the aged wood. Their collective cries filled the night, echoing through the surrounding forest, as they demanded entry, promising violence and chaos if their demands went unanswered.

As the chaotic scene unfolded before him, Daeron's patience wore thin. He moved purposefully to the back of the group, positioning himself where his voice could carry over the clamour. With a resolute gaze, he raised his voice, commanding their attention.

"Brothers of the Night's Watch!" His words cut through the air like a blade. "Cease this mutiny at once, or face the consequences!"

The words hung heavy in the air, a warning laced with determination. Daeron's voice carried the weight of his authority, a reminder of the oath they had all sworn to uphold. The desperation and anger that had fueled their actions momentarily wavered in the face of his unwavering resolve.

With a determined resolve, Daeron slowly drew the stolen blade from its leather-wrapped sheath. As the cold metal was exposed to the air, a frosty mist seemed to materialize, enveloping the weapon. The chilling touch of the sword sent shivers down his spine, yet he held it steady, undeterred by its icy grip.

The ethereal glow of Daeron's blue starry eyes pierced through the darkness, casting an otherworldly radiance upon the scene. In the dim light, the glimmering orbs seemed to hold a silent promise—a testament to the power and resilience that resided within him.

As the frosty breath escaped the blade, tendrils of mist danced in the air, swirling around Daeron like spectral wisps. The sight was both mesmerizing and unsettling as if the very essence of winter had taken form in his grasp.

The effect on the mutinous brothers was immediate. Some froze in fear, their hearts heavy with the weight of their actions, while others fell to their knees, seeking solace in prayer. The chilling aura emanating from Daeron's sword and his piercing gaze instilled a profound sense of awe and dread within them.

'Do you need help' he hears Shiera ask but he sends her a mental shake of the head.

'Kill any who try to escape' he says coldly to her to which she agrees. She'd never tried human meat before and was eager to taste it.

Karl and Dirk the two instigators of this mutiny pushed their brothers out of the way as they went to see what the commotion was. They both flinched when they saw the glowing blue eyes but once they squinted and could see who it was they laughed "You cowards it's just a man, and he'll die just like anyone else" Karl said as he nods to Dirk and they both charge him.

As Karl and Dirk, driven by their blind rage, charged at Daeron, the clash of steel filled the air. Daeron's movements were swift and precise, his Valyrian steel blade meeting Karl's with a resounding clash. With practised skill, he deflected the force of Karl's attack, the ice blade freezing the steel of Karl's weapon until it shattered into icy fragments.

Simultaneously, Daeron's body moved in perfect harmony, sidestepping Dirk's clumsy swing. Seizing the opportunity, Daeron swiftly struck back, his blade finding its mark with deadly accuracy. Karl's head was separated from his body in one swift motion, his lifeless form collapsing to the ground.

The battle was not over, as Daeron channelled a small amount of his latent magic into the blade. As he thrust it into Dirk's chest, a surge of freezing energy coursed through the weapon. The magic mingled with the cold essence of the blade, transforming Dirk's body into a frozen statue.

In the aftermath of his decisive victory over Karl and Dirk, Daeron stood there, his gaze fixed upon the remaining brothers of the Night's Watch. Silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the distant sound of roaring flames and the chilling cries of the dragon. He did not attempt to impede the dozen brothers who chose to flee, allowing them to pass without a word.

Those who remained stood as witnesses to the terrifying spectacle unfolding in the forest. The flickering glow of the flames illuminated the darkness, casting eerie shadows on the trees. The piercing roars of the dragon reverberated through the air, sending shivers down their spines and filling their hearts with both awe and terror.

As the flames consumed the mutineers, their dying screams echoed through the haunted forest. The violent demise of their former comrades served as a haunting reminder of the consequences that awaited those who strayed from the path of loyalty and brotherhood.

"Drop your weapons" Daeron simply said, and what followed was a clattering of steel as they all dropped their weapons and went to their knees, some crying and some praying to whatever gods they followed.

Daeron wrapped his ice blade up and tied it back to his belt, he went to the main house of the keep and knocked on the door "It's over they've surrendered" he shouted out.

Jeor opened the door, with him was Alliser and the rest of the brothers who hadn't mutinied.

"Don't ask any questions, I won't answer them, get ready to move out we've been here long enough" Daeron speaks to them, all besides Jeor nod their head and start getting ready.

Jeor looks like he's going to say something but Daeron ignores him walking into to keep and addressing the girls "Pack everything, including the animals, you'll need them" He then takes a seat in Craster's seat waiting to leave. Contemplating his inevitable death.

(AN: Ah man that was boring to write, this story sucks to write most of the time ngl, I have much more fun writing Lost Artefacts tbh I was gonna write chapter 10 of that today but felt it would be a bit of a piss take since I hadn't updated this in like 2 days, tbf after this it should get a bit more interesting. Anyway hope ya enjoyed it let me know what you think)