The Lion and the Rose: The North

[Chancellor Tanterterg]

A Proclamation from the Iron King



Be It Proclaimed:

A great scourge has come down on Westeros. An enemy unseen since the age of heroes has razed the Wall, the only true protection the people of Westeros have ever known.

The Ironborn know another, far more potent protection - the Drowned God and his great sea. There is not route for these demons to follow and they know not the skills of boating to reach my islands.

As a strong man, who has a sense of humanity, I have ordered four ships from my great Pyke Fleet to sail for the coast near Deepwood Motte to retrieve and save as many Westerosi as possible. Their safety is assured by my seal and their prosperity is promised. As many refugees as possible, both from the terrible wars of Westeros and the demon army, will be welcomed to the Iron Islands.

x
Victarion of House Greyjoy, King of the Isles, King of Salt and Rock, Son of the Sea Wind, Lord Reaper of Pyke, Iron King, Lord Captain of the Iron Fleet

OOC:

Would this be the same sense of humanity that led Victarion to literally beat his wife to death?  

[Chancellor Tanterterg]

OOC: I think it's the same sense of humanity that led him to "liberate" slaves to be a part of the Iron Fleet.

OOC: Of course, the Ironborn also hate the North and vice-versa.  Btw, it is nice of you guys to tell me where the evacuation points are

[Chancellor Tanterterg]

I'm tempted to allow it given the sort of crisis we're seeing, but Dkrol should modify the language. I do think Victarion would never call himself a humanitarian, xD

OOC: And remember that presumably no one would really have any way of knowing the Others have come yet.  On the subject of Victarion, I should add that we're talking about a character George R. R. Martin himself literally described as being "dumb as a stump" and "a dullard and a brute."

[Chancellor Tanterterg]

OOC: Poor Victarion, his chapters are worse than some of those Star Wars Expanded Universe books.

OOC: I will hear not a bad word about my second dearest Greyjoy! I love his chapters (The Reaver is brilliant, in my opinion.)

Yeah, I'm all for saving the poor northerners, but this seems rather uncharacteristic of Victarion. He really doesn't seem like the kind of guy who gives a sh**t about his PR with the smallfolk and lords, or have much of an understanding of the concept that other people have feelings too. He also pretty much hates everybody that's not Ironborn - and he hates most of them aswell. I imagine after all the pain he suffered in Moat Cailin, he couldn't care less about the northerners and their problems.

What I could see Vic doing is taking himself north to fight this unstoppable, ancient force. He'd want to bust in some Sidhe skulls, and prove himself as the most badass fighter in the Seven Kingdoms. That's pretty much all he ever wants.

That's my take on it anyway. Maybe I just desperately want to see Victarion fighting the Others (it'll happen one day), but I honestly think that him sending a few ships up north to save people isn't very like him, unless he has some ulterior motive which we're not picking up on.

OOC: He's welcome to try to take the fight to the Others (assuming he knows and believes they exist although I'd question whether there is any evidence to suggest the Ironborn take that that threat/mythology seriously), but as for Victarion actually accomplishing anything...well...all I can say is that I'll be happy to have even more wights

[Chancellor Tanterterg]

So he sent out a proclamation just to say ' you?' Sounds like more of a Euron thing to do, but it makes more sense I suppose. (I still want to see Victarion bust up some White Walkers with his axe.)

Nah, I can easily see Victarion doing that too.  Honestly, I can see pretty much any Ironborn doing that to the North

[Chancellor Tanterterg]

I was bored last week, so I started writing what turned into be a much, much longer than intended Ramsay POV scene like the Joffrey ones I'd written.  It was supposed to be a brief scene, but it got big enough to be split into two posts   Anyway, hope you guys like it.  Note: Beltaine and Culrikhan are the name Lumine gave to Arya and Ramsay after they became Sidhe and the way in which the link between the souls of the Night's King and the Other he takes as a wife works in this has already been mod-confirmed/approved. 

The King in the North (Part 1 of 2)



The Wight that was once Stannis Baratheon continued to stare emotionlessly at its master.  It still had the same blank expression that it’d had before the flaying knife took off two of its fingers.  With a disappointed sigh, the Night’s King put down his knife and dismissed the creature with a wave of his hand.  It is a sad day when even the family tradition no longer brings me any pleasure, thought Culrikhan.  These wights ruin every game I try to play with them.  At least it wasn’t as boring as this morning’s hunt, that creature wouldn’t even run away unless I willed it.  You can’t hunt something that lacks any capacity for independent thought, I suppose.  On the bright side, I can’t imagine that I will ever have to worry about their loyalty.  "Tell me, Reek, what is the point of having Stannis as my prisoner if he no longer cares what I do to him?" asked the King. 

"My Lord?" Reek weakly replied.

"Never mind, I suppose you wouldn't know of such things.  But I swear that there is simply no joy in flaying these creatures.  As ever, it seems pleasure cannot exist in this world without pain, maddening as it may be at times."  I could always peel a few more bits of him, thought Culrikhan.  No, that won't do.  Reek has been a loyal pet and it could interfere with his training if I punish him without cause.  Of course, if it were a reward...  The King smiled as he realized the perfect solution to his dilemma.  "Reek, you will always remain loyal, won't you?" asked Culrikhan. 

"Of course, my Lord.  I...I am loyal Reek, forever and..." Reek began, before his master cut him off.

 "Yes, yes, very good.  I am pleased to see that you remain as loyal as ever.  In fact, I think you deserve a reward for showing me such unquestioning loyalty." 

"A...a reward, m-my Lord...I" began the creature, growing more panicked with every word. 

He is afraid already, thought Culrikhan, that is good.  There is nothing like a little fear to add some excitement to a game.  "Yes, Reek, a reward and not just any ordinary reward.  As a reward for your loyalty, I am going to give you the privilege of providing me with a bit of entertainment.  This day has been awfully boring and knowing how I hate boredom, I'm sure my loyal pet wants nothing more in the whole wide world than to add a bit of fun to my day,” said the King as he picked up his flaying knife.  “Don't worry, I promise that I will still leave you with all seven fingers.  But why should I have all the fun?  I think I’ll even let you decide which hand I go to work on first.  Isn’t that generous of me, Reek?" Culrikhan asked. 

After a brief pause, Reek whimpered "Yes, v-v-very generous, my Lord.  The...the left one if it please you, my Lord."
_________________________________________________________
Ten horrible minutes later
__________________________________________________________
Culrikhan's usual good cheer had returned by the time he left his chamber and began strolling through the castle, wandering from room to room and watching his pet's pathetic attempts to hobble in and out of each room with considerable amusement.  Even the mere sound of Reek struggling to keep up as he stumbled along behind his master brought a smile to the King's face as he reflected upon his work.  True to my word, I left him all seven fingers, Culrikhan thought with more than a little bit of pride.  "Why are you whimpering, Reek?  I never said I wouldn't take another toe, did I?  You didn't mind, did you?" asked the King. 

"No, my Lord.  For-forgive me, my Lord" replied Reek before falling down yet again. 

The King continued to congratulate himself on a job well done and remained pre-occupied with Reek's inability to walk without falling flat on his face until he entered one of the guest chambers.  The moment he entered the room, his thoughts were interrupted by a voice that was quickly becoming the bane of his existence.

[Chancellor Tanterterg]

The King in the North (Part 2 of 2)



"Seven Hells, must you honor me with your presence every day, King Snow?" asked Beltaine.  

"Call me that again and I'll do a lot more than honor you," snapped Culrikhan.  

"I’m sorry, milord," Beltaine replied "It’s just that I thought you didn't want me to call you the Bastard of Bolton anymore.  I suppose I could could call you King Bastard instead, if you'd like."  

"Listen you little c***," yelled Culrikhan, "if you say that word one more time..."  

"You'll what?  Run away like a scared little girl the way you did from the Dreadfort when your father was killed?  Some big killer you are, a coward who tortures people that are too weak to fight back and that was before Stannis disarmed you.  Besides, you can't hurt me anymore, remember?" shouted Beltaine.

"Of course I remember," the King snarled. "Do you think you'd still have a tongue were it otherwise?"  

Seven Hells, thought Culrikhan, growing more and more apoplectic with each passing second.  There really is no one more accursed than a kinslayer.  The Gods have punished me for poisoning Domeric by forcing me to endure this wolf b!tch’s insolence for the rest of eternity without any recourse.  They've cheated me out of playing any of my games with her.  That Sidhe bastard knew, I suspect they all did, although I suppose the one who told me doesn't know anything anymore judging by the way he shattered when I stuck a dragonglass dagger in his eye.  True, the stories said that when the first Night’s King took an Other for a wife that he gave her his soul.  However, none of the Sidhe warned me until afterward that this meant that by taking Beltaine for a wife I’d be binding my soul to hers or that I’d feel any pain inflicted upon her.  Worse, my oh so loyal subjects made sure to inform me of this while Beltaine was present.  In that moment, she lost any fear she’d ever had of me and hasn't gone a day without calling me a "bastard" since.  Father may not be here anymore, but I know what he'd have said if he were: "You've let a 14 year old girl run roughshod over you because you can't bare the pain it would take to discipline her properly.  You're not a Bolton; you're a Snow.  A Snow unfit to uphold my tradition.  I should've thrown you into the river the day that you were born."

Still, the King thought to himself, a flaying knife need not be the only sharp blade one used to hurt someone.  Perhaps a different approach is all that this one requires.  Beltaine is no longer a friend to the Starks, that much is certain, and yet perhaps there is enough of Arya left that I can still injure her with House Stark’s pain.  "Tell me, my dear, sweet wife," said Culrikhan cheerfully "when you think about the Red Wedding, do you ever imagine what it would've been like if you’d been there?  I'm sure you've wondered every now and then, if only for a moment, whether somehow, some way you could've saved the King Who Lost the North or your mother.  I suppose you’d have simply been killed too, most like.  But even then, at least you...or rather Arya Stark, the person you were before I took you, turned you into what you are today, and made you mine...at least that poor little girl would've had a few more moments with the remnants of her family before her last chance at a happy life came crashing down all around her as everyone she loved was slaughtered right before her very eyes.  They say that if you listen carefully, you can still hear the Tully b!tch crying over her dead children!" The King smiled when he noticed that Beltaine had begun seething with hatred.  See father, he thought to himself, I can bring her to heel just fine even without a blade.  It’ll be a new game to play!  I suppose I’ll enjoy breaking someone this...challenging...regardless of the method.  I could use some excitement in my life these days and it’d seem my wife may please me yet.

"Ah well, I suppose it’s a moot point," continued the King.  "At the end of the day, the Freys opened your mother's throat, your brothers were all murdered, and poor Ned Stark couldn't keep his head about him in King's Landing.  True, we don’t know what became of your sister, but she’s probably dead too.  I suppose one could say that I'm the only family you have left and I can’t even imagine how much that thought must please you, loving wife that you are.  Oh but don't worry, time heals all wounds.  Another year and I bet you won't even be able to remember what anyone in your...sorry, my beloved...anyone in Arya Stark's dead family looked like.  It’ll be like they never existed in the first place and you’ve been all alone since the moment you came into this world.  Oh dear, you look as though something is troubling you, milady,” said Culrikhan upon noticing that Beltaine’s face had turned hard as stone as she silently stared at him with her cold, blue eyes.  “I do hope I haven't upset you, what with all the talk about the dead family of the person you used to be.  Funny, it just occurred to me that even if I hadn't...err...changed you, you still wouldn't be Arya Stark anymore.  By all the laws of Gods and men, you'd be Arya Bolton, a proper lady of the Dreadfort.  In any event, you will give me an heir someday, that much is certain."  Beltaine still hasn't said anything, thought Culrikhan, although she looks as though she is about to leap across the room and try to rip my throat out.  This may be a way to hurt her, but it is not the way to break her.  

As if in reply, Beltaine said in a cold, emotionless voice "I am not a lady.  Tell me, is your real name still Ramsay Bolton or is it Culrikhan now?"  

"I am both and yet I am neither," replied the King, as he always did whenever she asked him this question.  Normally Culrikhan could delight in how frustrating and confusing Beltaine seemed to find this answer, although the reason for its importance to her was a mystery to him.  Something about a list.  

Today, however, she simply said "I know how much you enjoy pain.  Someday, I will find out which of those is your real name and when I do, I promise that you will never want for pain again."  With that, the murderous rage Culrikhan had seen when he spoke of the Red Wedding suddenly vanished from her face.  "So, do you want me to call you King Bastard or not?"Beltaine asked.  

"I'm...not a...I was naturalized" said Culrikhan as he struggled to control the violent rage that returned the moment she said that word.

"I do hope I haven’t upset you, what with all the talk about how you’re still the stupidest, ugliest bastard ever and you always will be no matter how many bastard Kings say you're not," she continued.  

"I swear by the Old Gods and the New," growled Culrikhan, "if you say that word one more time..."  
"Bastard, bastard, bastard, bastard, bastard, bastard, bastard, bastard!"
"SHUT UP, you look like a stupid, ugly little boy!"  

Beltaine simply opened her eyes wide and said in a voice dripping with sarcasm, "But I thought that was why you were attracted to me.  There weren't any little boys left in the North, so you married a little girl who reminded you of one."  

Culrikhan stormed out of the room to find Reek curled up in a ball on the floor like a scared child.  Beltaine must needs be brought to heel, he thought as he kicked his pet in anger.  More importantly, she cannot keep behaving this way in front of other Sidhe.  With only one arm, I'm hardly capable of defending my position should another decide that I am weak and challenge me.  The King then turned to Reek and smiled.  That's the answer right there, it's been right here this whole time.  I can't hurt her, but there are still others I can hurt if she misbehaves.  People she might not want me to hurt even if she is no longer Arya Stark. "Come Reek," said Culrikhan, "there are people I must needs find and preparations to be made.  There is so much work to do..."

[Chancellor Tanterterg]

There haven't been enough POVs lately, thank the old, cold gods for these! I'm not a particular Arya fan but Beltaine is now pretty much my favourite character.

Poor Reek. I hope those seven fingers manage something heroic yet

I will attempt a POV myself asap

OOC: Actually you bring up a good point, it'd be great if folks would take a stab at writing some more POVs for their characters, especially since it may be a bit before we get an actual update.  I know LeonardotheRed, Dereich, and (IIRC) Badgate's also wrote some good ones a while ago.  Hopefully we'll see some more soon!

Btw, I'm glad you liked this (I was a bit nervous about it, tbh).  The hatefest between Ramsay/Culrikhan and Arya/Beltaine was so much fun to write that I'm sure there will be more of these (assuming I don't die ).  Arya's easily my favorite character, so I'm glad I was able to do her/Beltaine justice!

[Chancellor Tanterterg]

Note: Haven't heard any word from Lumine yet about the POV I was going to write for him for this turn, so I finished off this in the meantime.  It'll probably be the last Culrikhan POV for a while barring some huge developments, but hope you guys like it (whenever you get around to it ).

The King in the North II (Part 1 of 2)



“Ah, there you are; I’ve been looking for you.  You know, it’d be much easier to find you if you spent more time in my...well...I suppose it’s now our bedchamber, isn’t it?” said Culrikhan as he entered one of Winterfell’s many guest chambers.
“I stay away from your bedchamber because I don’t want to be anywhere near you, stupid,” Beltaine replied.

“Something wrong, m'lady?  The winter snows killed all the flowers you were hoping to pick, is that it?” the King asked mockingly.
“I don’t want to pick any stupid flowers.”
“In any case, it’s certainly past time we got rid of that ridiculous little sword that you’re always carrying around.  A proper lady such as yourself shouldn’t be playing with such things.”
“I don’t want to be a proper lady and if you ever touch Needle, I’ll...”
“What’s that, Lady Beltaine?”
“Shut up!”

“Now, now, is that any way to speak to your beloved Lord husband?” asked Culrikhan, smirking as he spoke.  I suppose the game can wait a little while, no need to rush things.
“You’re right,” Beltaine responded, “that was most rude of me.  Forgive me, m’lord.  What I meant to say was ‘shut up, King Cripple of House Bastard.’”

“I warned you not to call me that,” snapped the King, his smirk turning into a scowl.
“But you are a bastard.”
“I was naturalized, that means I’m not a Snow.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No...I’m...NOT!”
“Are too!”
“Am not!”
“Are too!”
“Listen, you little sh!t...” the King growled as Beltaine began snickering at him.

“Listen to you babble like an idiot?  Perhaps another time.  I have more pressing matters to attend to at the moment.  I can't imagine what they would be, but I'm sure whatever I was going to do is more important than anything you have to say,” said Beltaine.  “You have my leave to go now, King Bastard,”she added, sounding as though nothing could have bored her so much as this conversation. 

“You...you do not give me commands...ever” snarled Culrikhan as he felt the left side of his face twitch.
“That wasn’t a command, stupid.  I gave you permission to leave,” replied Beltaine.
“I don’t need your permission to do anything!”  I must remain calm in spite of the b!tch’s insolence, the game we’re going to play will be well worth it.  “I do believe we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, sweet wife.  I only wanted to say that I have a surprise for you.  You’ll have quite a bit of fun with it, I imagine.”

“You’re dying?” Beltaine asked excitedly.
“No, I’m afraid that’s never going to happen.”  Was that supposed to upset me?  Surely the wolf b!tch can do better than that.
“Then I don’t care about your stupid surprise...unless...are you going to tell me whether your real name is Culrikhan or Ramsay Bolton?  Is that the surprise?  I’ll finally be able to kill you?”

“You know,” said Culrikhan wistfully, “it really is a shame that I’ll never have a chance to take you hunting.  Most of the girls simply ran away and even Myranda begged for her life in the end, although she’d already grown awfully boring.  But I do believe you’d have actually tried to kill me.  You’d have still ended up dead, of course, but it would’ve been a hunt to remember...even if you aren’t quite big enough to make a decent pelt.” 

“We can go hunting today if you’d like,” said Beltaine, “just tell me your real name.  Maybe I’ll even give you a head start...”
“Perhaps another day,” the King replied.     

“Why not today?  Just imagine the possibilities!  You’d never have to hear anyone call you a bastard again and I’d finally be rid of you.  They say the Bolton Kings hung the skins of their enemies in the Dreadfort; I’d be happy to hang yours in Winterfell if you’d like.”

“Well look at you,” said Culrikhan proudly, “already eager to hunt men down like dogs.  You really would’ve fit right in at the Dreadfort, although I imagine father would’ve hated you.  Whoever you were before I...ah...changed you, these days it’s hard to believe you weren’t born a Bolton.”  The wolf is not a true Bolton, the King thought to himself, smiling at look of disgust on Beltaine’s face.  Of course, I imagine telling her she’s become one will make the her more miserable than any...well...almost anything else I could do.  Although if I could create Reek then perhaps...perhaps I can turn her into one in time.  She’ll require a few adjustments, to be sure.  She must needs stop calling me that word, for one thing.  Yes, I do believe that shall be our new game...

“I am not a Bolton,” Beltaine snapped, “don’t ever call me that again!”
“But the flayed man is on House Bolton’s banners.  In a way those are still my...err...our banners.  And you did just threaten to skin me, didn’t you?”
“No, I...shut up!”
“And of course, if I hadn’t changed you, your name would be Arya Bolton by all the laws of Gods and men.  I suppose that makes you as much a Bolton as I am or was.”
“If you ever call me ‘Arya Bolton’ again, I’ll kill you, whatever your real name is.”

“No need to worry about that, sweet wife, your name is Beltaine now.  Though if you ever give me a daughter, I will name her Arya.  You don’t mind, do you?  After all, you’re not really Arya Stark anymore, are you?  I suppose it will be strange for you, watching little Arya Bolton grow up.”

“But even if you could kill me,” continued Culrikhan as he ducked to avoid the large bronze candlestick holder that came flying across the room at his head, “that’d mean you’d never get to cross Walder Frey off that list you’re always going off about.” 
“Walder Frey is dead, idiot.  And if you ever say even one more word about getting me with child...” 

“I didn’t mean the late Late Lord Frey; there is another one who surely belongs on that list you’re always going off about.  Reek, you can bring him in now,” shouted Culrikhan.  Reek nudged a young boy into the room and the King smiled when he saw the child trembling in fear. 


[Chancellor Tanterterg]

The King in the North II (Part 2 of 2)



“I don’t care about some stupid Frey who isn’t even old enough to have had anything to do with the Red Wedding,” said Beltaine. 

“But this isn’t just any Frey,” Culrikhan insisted, “this one is apparently known as Big Walder Frey.  He has a brother named Little Walder whom I’m going to turn into a Sidhe and make my squire.  Reminds me a bit of myself at his age, that one does.  Don’t have much use for this one though, so he’s yours to do with as you wish.  Oh and you should know that Reek told me that when our dear Freys were wards of House Stark at Winterfell, Big Walder here told a boy named Theon Greyjoy where Brandon and Rickon Stark were hiding to save his own life.  Reek, you’d best leave us now,” said the King.  Wouldn’t want her to kill him too, I suppose.  She would’ve stabbed him to death last time if I had shown up a moment later.  I wonder what she’ll do when she learns poor Walder was simply an innocent child.

“I...d-d-did not...I...” stuttered Big Walder.

“Shut up!”  snapped Culrikhan.
“He did?  He led Theon to Bran and Rickon?” asked Beltaine.
“Oh yes, one could even say the boys are dead because of him.  Might I suggest that you consider taking him hunting?”
“No, but could I...could...could I borrow your flaying knife?”
“Of course, you can!  Nothing would please me more,” Culrikhan exclaimed, unable to contain his excitement as Beltaine approached him
“Thank you,” she replied, briefly smiling at the King.

“Perhaps my wolf will find herself in the heat when she’s finished.  I do still need a son,” said Culrikhan, frowning when he saw the look of complete disgust that appeared on Beltaine’s face. 

“Seven Hells, will you please just give me the knife,” snapped Beltaine, rolling her eyes.
“Yes, yes, very well, but...” the King began when she grabbed his dragonglass dagger from his knifebelt. 
“Careful with that,” Culrikhan said as he felt the tip of the blade on his frozen skin.

“You must be the stupidest bastard in Westeros.  Did you really think I’d ever believe a word you said?  I bet it was the other Frey who told Theon where Bran and Rickon were hiding.  I bet that’s why you liked him.  Oh, and if you ever speak of getting me with child again, I’ll unman you.  Do you understand?  I can’t hear you,” she shouted.

“I under...I understand,” You'd best hold on to that dagger, you little c***

“Perhaps I should unman you anyway,” continued Beltaine, “what do you think?  After all, you’ve taken so much away from me; it’s only fair that I take something away from you.”

“The dragonglass will kill me and you still don’t know my real name yet.  That means you can't kill me, doesn't it?”

“I suppose I could wait until I find out your real name,” said Beltaine, “but you'll have to do something first if you want to live another second.  You have to admit that you’re a bastard.”
“I was naturalized, that means I’m not a...”
“‘Kill me now!’  Was that what you just said?”
“I am...I...I am a...I AM GOING TO KILL YOU,” yelled Culrikhan.
“Last chance.”
“No!  Wait!  I...I am...my name was...was once Ramsay Snow.”
“Not a Snow, a bastard.  Say it right now,” snapped Beltaine.
“I...I am...a bastard,” the King mumbled.
“What’s that?  I can’t hear you.”
“I AM A BASTARD,” yelled Culrikhan, “and I swear by all the Gods that you will rue this day, you little c**t!”

“I think I’ll keep this dagger,” said Beltaine as she carefully backed away from the King, “you really shouldn’t be playing with such things.  Oh and you’d best find yourself a new squire,” she continued as she backed out of the room, “Little Walder is about to stab himself to death with dragonglass.”

Just wait until I find them; you won’t be so insolent then, Culrikhan thought to himself.  Once I have those little sh!ts, it'll be easy enough to control her, I imagine.   The King punched Big Walder in the face so hard that the blow knocked the boy unconscious.  You weren’t supposed to pass out!  Seven Hells, are these Frey vermin good for anything?  I suppose there’s no point flaying someone unless they’re awake, he thought, frowning.  Ah well, at least there are still plenty of Northerners left for me to play with...

[Chancellor Tanterterg]

The Night’s Queen (Part I of II)

“The Mountain...Theon Greyjoy...Ser Meryn...Raff the Sweetling...Dunsen...Ser Ilyn...The Red Woman.  Valar Morghulis,” whispered Beltaine as she left the room and began making her way to Winterfell’s great hall.  Someday a wolf will hunt them down and kill every last one of them.  On that day, I will taste their blood, smell their fear, and savor their pain.  But I can’t forget their names!  If I do, then how will I ever remember to kill them?    

It had been getting harder and harder for Beltaine to remember the names or what they had even done to earn a place in her prayer.  She’d tried repeating it more often to keep the names in her head, but even that didn’t help anymore.  Maybe I don’t need to remember all of the names.  Maybe if I just remove Ser Meryn from my prayer, I’ll be able to remember all the others.  He doesn’t need to die just because he killed some dancing master who probably thought Sansa was perfect just like everyone else in King’s Landing.  Who cares about stupid dancing lessons anyway?  Mother probably forced me to take them because she wanted me to act boring and ladylike the way Sansa always did.  

Beltaine had never gotten along with her sister and even thought she hated her once, before she had known true hatred.  The hatred she felt for those in her prayer to The Great Other.  Now though, she would’ve given anything to be re-united with her sister.  She’d even do her best to behave like a proper highborn lady if it meant she could see Sansa one last time.  No, that’s stupid!  Sidhe women were expected to be fierce warriors; it was one of the few things Beltaine liked about them.  Besides, Sansa was dead.  Sansa...the last member my pack...gone.  The Night’s King told her that the rivers ran red with Tully blood during the Sack of Riverrun.  He also said the Tyrells put Sansa’s head on a spike when they found her in the city.  Beltaine wanted to add the Tyrells to her prayer, but he wouldn’t tell her which ones ordered the attack.  Some day, I’ll find out their names and then I will kill them all, she thought as her face grew hard as stone.

It’d gotten harder to remember other things too.  When the Night’s King tore down Winterfell’s godswood, Beltaine couldn’t understand why the sight of dead weirwood trees pleased her so much.  Maybe Arya Stark had always hated weirwood trees, but if that was it then what had she hated about them?  Stupid trees.  Beltaine wondered if she had ever prayed to any Gods besides The Great Other.  There must have been other ones before him; Arya Stark of Winterfell would not have prayed to The Great Other.  She was wrong though; there were no old Gods and there were no new Gods.  There was only one God and his name was The Great Other.  

There were even a few horrible days when it was hard for Beltaine to remember that she’d once been Arya Stark of Winterfell.  Arya Stark will never be my name again, she decided, I am Beltaine.  But “Arya Stark” would always be a special name...a wolf name.  If any of the Sidhe ever mocked it again, the wolf would hunt them down during the darkest hours of The Long Night and rip them to pieces.  Even the Night’s King had already learned not to say that name.  He is not a wolf and has no right to speak to me of wolf names.  No one does.  I am the last of the wolves.

You were wrong father, Beltaine thought sadly, only the lone wolf survived.  She could still remember the names of her dead pack.  Ned, Catelyn, Jon, Robb, Sansa, Bran, and...and...  No!  I can’t forget him!  R...Rick...Rickard. Beltaine was certain that if she ever forgot Rickard Stark’s name then she’d soon forget about him completely and wouldn’t even know who he was if she ever saw him again...which she wouldn’t.  The only way that the dead can rise is as Wights and even they’re not alive...not really.  She bit her lip as she wondered if it even mattered whether her pack was dead or alive.  My family wouldn’t want me now even if they recognized me.  They’d hate me or think I’m not a wolf anymore...just some monster.  They’d probably run away or maybe even try to kill me.  Beltaine slumped down onto the floor and felt cold, bitter tears roll down her cheeks...tears that turned into tiny specks of ice the moment they touched the ground.  The Night’s King could nearby, she realized.  He will not see me cry, Beltaine decided as she wiped her eyes and forced herself stand up.  Never!

The Night’s King couldn’t be in her prayer to The Great Other because he wouldn’t tell her whether his real name was Culrikhan or Ramsay Snow.  Still...surviving him had been much easier than Beltaine expected.  The Night’s King treated everything like a game and you were safe as long as you knew the rules.  You had to know that no matter what he threatened to do, no matter how cruel the things he said were, he’d never actually lay a hand on you unless he thought you were afraid of him, but if he smelled even a hint of fear then he would never stop hurting you.  You had to know that he’d deny any request you ever made in the cruelest way possible unless you tricked him into thinking that you were going to let him watch you hurt someone.  Even if it was just a Wight, the important thing was that he thought there that you might enjoy hurting people as much as he did.  It wasn’t easy, but if you could trick him that way for even a moment then you could make him do almost anything you wanted until he realized you were lying.  He only let me keep Needle because I asked about it right after I told him that I didn’t want him to kill Big Walder because killing him would put an end to his torture and Freys didn’t deserve the mercy of quick deaths, Beltaine remembered.  They shouldn’t have killed my mother!  If Walder Frey hadn’t killed her at the Red Wedding, I’d have given the boy mercy.


At least I will dream of wolves tonight.  Every night, Beltaine dreamt that she was a direwolf, roaming the Riverlands and leading a pack of her own.  Last night, she and some of her little cousins had feasted upon a Tyrell soldier who had ventured outside the gates of Riverrun.  The wolf dreams were the only thing she knew the Night’s King could never steal from her.  They were the only time that she was truly free.  “The Mountain...Theon Greyjoy...Ser Ilyn...Raff the Sweetling...the Red Woman,” Beltaine whispered as she approached Winterfell’s great hall.  No!  There was another name.  Was it Ryman?  Aemon?  Damon?  Damon!  Damon was one of the Mountain’s men, she remembered, breathing a sigh of relief.  “The Mountain...Theon Greyjoy...Ser Ilyn...Raff the Sweetling...Damon...the Red Woman.  Valar Morghulis.”

[Chancellor Tanterterg]

The Night’s Queen (Part II of II)
 
Beltaine stared at the door to Winterfell’s great hall and chewed her lip nervously.  She had to pass through the room in order to go outside and practice her needlework, but the Night’s King could be in there.  She could hear Sidhe voices coming from inside the room.  He’s in there.  At least there are many others in there with him.  Maybe he won’t even notice me. 

As soon as Beltaine opened the door, she saw the Night’s King seated high up on his throne of skulls.  Theon was cowering next to him and it was packed with more Sidhe than Beltaine would’ve believed could fit a single room...even one as large as Winterfell’s great hall.  No one heard me come in, not even any of the other Sidhe.  They would’ve told him if they had.  Beltaine often overheard the Sidhe talking of how he’d killed the previous Night’s King, brought down The Wall, taken Winterfell, and conquered the North.  But even if they hadn’t liked him, the Sidhe hated her and would’ve told him for that reason alone.  They were always whispering that she was too weak to ever be a true Sidhe.  Although for some reason they never said anything bad about her in the Night’s King’s presence.

As Beltaine carefully made her way through the mob of Sidhe, she noticed that the Night’s King was trying to get two young children to fight to the death.  He promised to spare the winner’s life, but all they did was cry for their mothers.  Does he actually think anyone would ever believe word he says?  Stupid bastard.  She had made it to the door on the other end of the room without anyone noticing.  Quiet as a shadow.  She opened the door and it made a loud creaking sound.  The room grew silent and Night’s King slowly turned his head in her direction.  He shouted in an almost cheerful voice “Ah, what do we has...have...has?  Yes, have...have it is!  What do we have here?  Is it?  Yes, I do believe it is my sweet wife.  Join us, won’t you?”  The Night’s King was clearly very drunk.  That was good because it meant he’d be stupid.  But he had still caught her trying to sneak past him before anyone noticed she was there and that was bad.

“Why?  So I can watch you drink until you wet yourself?  No, I don’t think I will join you.  Although it smells like you’ve already soiled yourself a few times,” said Beltaine, hoping she sounded as bored as she thought she did.  It was good to insult him.  You always had to make sure that he thought you weren’t afraid of him.  Otherwise, you’d end up like Big Walder or Theon. 

“It wasn’t a question,” he replied calmly although his face had begun to twitch.  Beltaine realized that she had never talked back to the Night’s King in front of other Sidhe and wondered whether he’d try to hurt her to save face, especially since he was plainly too drunk to speak properly.  He’ll probably embarrass himself no matter what he does.  Stupid bastard.  He almost looks frightened.  Probably afraid that I’ll make him look weak in front of the other Sidhe, not that it’d matter. 

“I will let slide...that one slide if,” he burped, “if you do as you're bid and help me get these two sh!ts to start fighting each other.  Can’t remember father so they must needs be punished.  But you must be a good little wolf and come near...here...come here now!  Then you will sit like a good and,” another burp, “a good and obedient dog.”  For once, Beltaine really wasn’t afraid of him.  This wasn’t the Night’s King...it was just...she didn’t know what it was.  Whatever was wrong with him, none of the other Sidhe seemed to notice or if they did, were still too afraid of him to say anything.  He can’t remember his father anymore, Beltaine realized.  Is he drinking so much because he’s sad?  No, this has to be another of his games. 

“I’m not your stupid dog,” snapped Beltaine. 
“S-Stay!  Roll over!” the Night’s King bellowed. 
“I said I’m not a dog!  And your father was Roose Bolton.  But you weren’t a Bolton.  You’re a Snow.  Don’t you, remember?”
“What...what did you say?” asked the Night’s King.
“I said you’re a stupid, drunken, crippled bastard and that’s all you’ll ever be!”

The Night’s King’s face darkened with rage and for a moment he simply stared at her silently.  That was when Beltaine knew she had made a mistake.  He was drunk which meant the game would have different rules.  “Do you know what you do with a dog that won’t behave?” asked the Night’s King.  Beltaine dodged the wineskin that he threw at her.  “You sim-simply cut the dumb b!tch’s throat.  Here...let me show you,” he said unsheathing his ice sword with his left hand as he stood up and began to stagger towards her. He’ll find me if I run and where would I even go?  The North is his and Winterfell is my home.  I won’t leave again.  Never! 

“Now are you going to...going to behave like a good little wolf...dog...a good wolf?  No more fighting or biting or b!tching?  Well...perhaps biting is still allowed.” 

“Biting it is then,” Beltaine replied, and bit down on her right shoulder as hard as she could on the exact spot where the stump of what had once been Night’s King’s sword arm ended.  Beltaine forced herself to ignore the pain as she thought about everything the Night’s King had stolen from her.  The Night’s King yelped in pain and lost his balance, dropping his sword and falling backward.  Beltaine ran to where he had fallen and grabbed his sword before he could react.  Quick as a snake.  She pointed the blade at the Night’s King’s throat and spat blood in his face.  The Night’s King did not move an inch, but he was practically baring his teeth at her.  Beltaine noticed that the fall had re-opened the wound on his stump. 

“Do you know who I am?” she asked.  “I am Beltaine.  You might be the Night’s King, but I am the Night’s Queen and if you ever threaten me again, I’ll kill you.  Do you understand, bastard?  I can’t hear you,” she shouted so that all of the other Sidhe would hear.

“I under...yes,” the Night’s King answered quietly. 
“Good, because if I ever have to point a weapon at you again...”

“Get...out...NOW!  GO!” the Night’s King yelled.

I can’t practice my needlework tonight, Beltaine thought as she carefully backed away from the Night’s King.  If I do, then I’ll have to pass through the great hall again once I’m done and he might still be in here. As she turned towards the door on the other end of the hall, Beltaine saw all of the other Sidhe silently staring at her and wondered what they were going to do.  One by one, they all moved to the side so that Beltaine had a clear path to the door.  Some of them even looked at her with what might’ve been pride or approval.  Beltaine smiled to herself when she heard the Night’s King mutter “Disloyal c***s never cleared a path for me.”

I am Beltaine of Winterfell, thought the Night’s Queen as she walked toward the door, and the lone wolf has found her pack.  My true pack. She dropped the Night’s King’s sword in front of the door and left the great hall.  They are wolves too, real wolves like me...even...even the Night’s King.  The Long Night will be a time for wolves and I am the night wolf.  Beltaine’s eyes grew wide with fear.  No!  I have to remember who I am or I’ll end up just like him.  I will not forget Arya Stark of Winterfell!  The Sidhe can’t be my pack.  They can never be wolves.  But if I’m a Sidhe, doesn’t that mean...  Beltaine began to chew her lip.  The Sidhe are my pack, she decided, but they cannot be wolves.  They will not speak to me of wolves.  There are no other wolves left.  Only me.

Beltaine barred the door to her bedchamber so that the Night’s King would not be able to enter...if he could even make it there before he passed out.  Stupid bastard.  She whispered her evening prayer to The Great Other.  “The Mountain...Theon Greyjoy.  Valar Morghulis.”  No, that is wrong.  “The Mountain...Theon...Theon...Theon...Theon Greyjoy!”  Beltaine realized that she couldn’t remember any of the other names in her prayer.  What did he do?  What’s happening?  I can’t forget them...I...I...  Beltaine tried to say her prayer over and over again between sobs as she struggled to remember just one of the missing names, but none of them ever returned to her.  For the first time that she could remember, Beltaine eventually fell asleep without saying her prayer to The Great Other.  There were no wolf dreams that night...only nightmares.

[Chancellor Tanterterg]

And so begins...what...the 50th Battle of Winterfell

The King in the North

How the f*** could this happen, wondered Culrikhan as he washed down the last piece of sausage with a goblet of wine.  There was no one left to challenge me except that Southron whore and her dragons.  I broke the Westrosi at Winterfell and again at the Twins!  The so-called great houses are little more than hollow shells of their former selves.  And yet somehow the little sh!ts managed to steal half of my f***ing kingdom from me.  I brought down the Wall!  I had the army!  The North...the Riverlands...mine all of it!  The Great Other has cursed me.  No!  I am the Great Other.  The sooner those blue-eyed c**ts realize that, the better!  


There will be no Night’s King after me, Culrikhan decided.  The  Army of Winter shall attack the dragon whore head-on.  If we are victorious then there will be no one else left who is strong enough to oppose me and if she burns them all...well...it serves those traitors right.  Let the dumb b!tch kill them all.  If the blue-eyed sh!ts can’t win a battle, what use are they?  Once they’ve all paid for their treasons, I will return to the Land of Always Winter.  The battle is ultimately incidental.  Win or lose, I shall live on forever!  I am a God and one does not kill a God.

The other Sidhe are all traitors, that much is certain.  They’ve been plotting treasons ever since the night that wolf c*** had threatened to kill me in the great hall.  “The f***ing Stark boys escaped from Skagos.  How am I supposed to control the b!tch now?” he screamed at Reek.
“M-Master?”
“Shut up!”
“Yes, master.  For-Forgive me, master.”

Reek was plainly too stupid to plot betrayal and yet Culrikhan wondered if even his pet could still be trusted.  The Night’s King ripped large chunk of meat off one of the half-eaten dishes sitting before him.  He is a loyal Reek, most like.  But that ungrateful little sh!t must needs be brought to heel.  I was merciful.  I made her a place of honor in my new world and she spat in my face.  Besides, if she needed someone to blame, the fault lay with the Bastard of Winterfell.  Well...I suppose that false King and his red whore also deserve some of the blame.  If they’d won the Battle of Winterfell, I never would’ve been able to do anything to her.  Not that it matters how the c**t feels about any of this.

The Night’s King glanced at the wound on his right shoulder.  She can hurt me without feeling a thing and I still can’t harm her.  It’s only a matter of time before she figures it out.  Whatever else the dumb b!tch may be, she’s not stupid.  She is not a wolf anymore; I have made her one of us.  Culrikhan did not know what exactly that meant, but all the same, the thought filled him with pride...until he remembered how much she hated him.  She threatened to unman me...called me a bastard...threatens to kill me every other day...attacked me in public.  Her treasons will not go unpunished!  She cannot continue to make me appear weak in the eyes of my servants.  Useless as they may be, they are still a threat.  If even one of them tries to challenge me, I’m hardly in a position to fight back.  No!  They can’t challenge me.  I am the Night’s King!  Even so, the c**t must die, Culrikhan decided.  If I give her a painless death, then surely I will be safe.  Shame I can’t make an example of her.

At least I can help myself to some decent meat.  The Freys were never good for anything in life, but in death...well...I dare say Big Walder is the finest meal I’ve ever known.  As he chewed on a piece of the boy’s liver, the Night’s King wondered whether there might be a fatter Frey for him to dine on somewhere in Westeros.  Shame the boy was so small.  Not much meat on him, to be sure.  Culrikhan’s face darkened with rage when he remembered that the way the other Sidhe had looked at him when he began his meal.  They are unworthy of such a feast, he decided, throwing a rib at Reek in frustration.  It is a meal fit for a King and a King alone.  No!  Not a King...a God!  By what right do slaves judge their master?  I will punish them!  In time, I will punish them all!  

Suddenly, the Night's King heard a roar so loud that all of Winterfell seemed to tremble.  Glass shattered.  Goblets fell to the ground.  There was a second roar and then a third.  And somehow Culrikhan knew...dragons!  They are already here.  A vile stench filled the room.  A stench so foul that, whatever else the Westerosi might say about the Boltons, no man would ever claim that they shat gold.


[Chancellor Tanterterg]

The Night's Queen (Arya V): Part 1 of 2



The Night’s King did not shatter like the Sidhe she’d seen him stab with dragonglass...he simply fell to the ground...dead.  Beltaine knew she should be happy, but his death brought her no joy.  The bastard was mine to kill!  Theon stole him from me, she thought bitterly.  And yet...as Beltaine stared at the Night’s King’s dead body, sprawled across the floor, her anger gave way to a strange sort of grief.  No matter how much I hated him, he was still part of my pack.  Beltaine chewed her lip as she wondered whether Arya Stark had a pack of her own once.  If I could find them somehow, maybe they’d think I was still Arya...maybe they’d still want me even if I wasn’t...maybe...what a stupid thought.  It wouldn’t matter anyway.  I am Beltaine of Winterfell and I belong with the Sidhe...with my brothers and sisters.  I cannot lose them!  Not again!  Beltaine continued to stare at the corpse of the creature who had caused her so much pain and felt a pang of guilt for having wished him dead so often.  I hated him, but I never actually would’ve killed him, she decided.  I never wanted to see him die...not really.  I just...wanted to hurt him a little is all.  He was a monster, but he was part of the only family I’ll ever have...the only one that would ever want me.  And even they may not want me anymore now that he’s dead.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Theon’s deranged cries of joy.  For a moment Beltaine simply stared at the pathetic, half-mad creature that was running around the room screaming “Theon!  Theon!  Theon!  My name is Theon!  Do you hear me, bastard?  Theon!  Not Reek!  He’s dead!  HE’S DEAD!  I killed the bastard!”  

Beltaine whispered a new prayer to the Great Other.  “The Dragon Queen.  Theon Greyjoy.  Valar Morguhlis.”  But before she could unsheathe Needle and cross Theon off her list, she heard a voice that instantly silenced the Turncloak.  

“So this is how you’d repay my generosity?  I’m so very disappointed in you.  You’ve been a very bad Reek.  I’m going to have to punish you now...”

That’s why he never shattered!  It wasn’t dragonglass.  Stupid turncloak.  Beltaine felt something as the Night’s King slowly rose from the ground, but whether it was relief or disappointment, she could not say.  She decided that even though she would always hate him, she was glad that he was still alive.

“No!  Th-that’s not possible!  Y-You can’t b-b-be alive.  I...I k-killed you.  Seven Hells, I...I attacked him...stabbed you...I...I mean I...” Theon babbled as a yellow stream ran down his right leg.
 
 “What is dead may never die, but rises again, harder and stronger.  Don’t worry, I won’t kill you, we’ll just start all over again.  We’ll get you right this time!” Culrikhan continued.

“Please...m-m-mercy...I am...I am...no...I am Theon!  My name is Theon!  You have to know your name!  And your name is bastard.”

For a moment, the Night’s King simply stared at the Turncloak, his face twitching in anger.  “You don’t want to be Reek anymore?  It doesn’t matter.  I don’t need you.  Theon will die, but Reek...Reek will live on.  Reek will never die.  I’ll just make another one out of our new friend.  Perhaps I’ll make him eat you, one piece at a time.  Would you like that?  I think I’ll carve you up myself?  Yes, I’d say you’re a meal fit for a Reek,” said the Night’s King, flaying knife in hand.

The wounded man who had been lying unconscious near the doors moaned and began to stir although neither the Night’s King or the Turncloak seemed to notice.  I should kill him now before he recovers.  Culrikhan can handle Theon Turncloak on his own, Beltaine thought to herself as she approached the wounded man.  She decided that the man had a villain’s face.  He isn’t even worthy of becoming a Wight.  But the wounded man’s face didn’t look very evil up close and despite everything he had done to her pack...or tried to do...Beltaine found that she couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.  He doesn’t deserve to become another Reek, she decided.  I will give him mercy.  The Night’s Queen unsheathed Needle, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t bring herself to kill him.  Suddenly, the man opened his eyes and a look of recognition appeared upon his face.  The wounded man simply stared at her for what felt like an eternity before saying one word...a name.  “Arya?”

That is not my name.  I am Beltaine of Winterfell.  Besides, Arya Stark is a wolf name and he has no right to speak to me of wolf names.  No one does.  Beltaine glanced at Needle and saw the reflection of a memory, forgotten long ago.  A memory of a man giving his younger sister a sword...a sword she named Needle.  A memory of a time when it seemed as though the summer would never end.  A memory of a time when a girl was happy.  For a moment, it was as though they were standing right in front of her.  Suddenly, the memory began to fade away and as it did, the man and his sister turned and began to walk away from Beltaine.  She wanted to run after them...to beg the man and his sister to take her with them.  “Wait!  Don’t go!  Come back!” she tried to shout, but the words stuck in her throat and she felt cold tears roll down her cheeks as the man and his sister faded away into nothingness.  Don’t...don’t leave me...please...  Beltaine did not know where the name came from, why she said it, or how she knew that it was the man’s name.  All she knew was that something buried deep inside of her answered the wounded man with another name.  “J-Jon?” Arya whispered.

Is this some sort of trick?  What’s happening?  Beltaine chewed her lip nervously.  I have to kill him now...before it‘s too late.  She was about to plunge Needle into Jon’s chest when he began to speak to her.  “Arya...I...I’m sorry.  I’m sorry I wasn’t able to save you.  I’m sorry for everything.  If I’d gotten you out of Winterfell...  I know you’re still in there somewhere.  You knew my name.  Remember your name.  Remember...who you are.  You are my sister and you are a Stark of Winterfell.  Remember who you are.”  

“No!  I am not Arya!  My name is...Beltaine.  Please...I...I have to...I’m sorry...I...”

Jon looked at her not with hatred or anger or even fear.  The look on his face was one of compassion and pity.  “I wish I could have protected you from whatever that monster did to you.  You don’t have to do this.  I know you don’t want to kill me. I know you don’t want to hurt anyone.  You’re not a monster like him.  You are Arya of House Stark.”  Suddenly, Needle began to glow and its handle grew warm in Beltaine’s hand.  I have to do it!  There is no other way.  He must die!

[Chancellor Tanterterg]

The Night's Queen (Arya V): Part 2 of 2



The Night’s King had finally finished mutilating the nearly unrecognizable body of what had once been Theon Greyjoy.  The Turncloak’s body continued to twitch for a moment as Culrikhan licked Theon’s blood off each of his fingers, one by one.  The moment the Night’s King turned around, Beltaine drove her sword through his heart.  Needle...or whatever it was now...grew so hot that Beltaine had to let go of it as soon as she stuck Culrikhan with the pointy end.  Once the sword was lodged inside of him, its blade turned into a flame as bright as dragon fire.  



The Night’s King fell to his knees, howling in pain, before collapsing to the ground.  He did not shatter this time either...or even burn.  Instead, his whole body began to shake uncontrollably.  “What...what did you do?  Pull it out!  It...it burns!  Please make it stop!  Pull the sword out now, you...you f-f***ing c**t,” shouted Culrikhan as he tried to grab her left foot.  Beltaine kicked his hand away and simply stared at him as her face grew hard as stone.  He could never be one of us.  He is not a Sidhe, just some...thing.  My brothers and sisters will never be safe with him leading the pack.  He doesn’t care if he gets us all killed.

Beltaine noticed that the Night’s King’s body was slowly disintegrating.  Culrikhan noticed it too.  “I...I can’t feel my legs.  Please, m-m-mercy,” he moaned as his eyes grew wide with fear...true fear.  The kind of fear she’d seen in Theon Turncloak’s eyes when he realized that he hadn’t really killed the Night’s King.  She continued to stare at him with her cold, blue eyes.  “Wait...I...I...I can make you Arya again!  I promise!  Just pull the sword out and I’ll...it burns...p-please...help me,” he begged in a voice that seemed to age a thousand years with every word.  

“I’m not Arya.  I never was Arya.  I have always been Beltaine of Winterfell.”
“But...but...if I die...you won’t know...my name...your list...you can’t...”

“I don’t care about your stupid name.  It doesn’t matter anymore.  Do you know who you are?  You’re not a Sidhe.  You’re not the Night’s King.  You’re not even the Bastard of Bolton.  You’re no one.  And soon, you will be nothing.”  The monster disintegrated into a pile of ash and the sword’s light grew dimmer and dimmer until it looked like Needle again.  

Will it kill me too if I pick it up?  It is still Needle, Beltaine decided.  She picked up the sword and found that its handle grown as cold as winter.  Beltaine turned around and saw that Jon had managed to force himself off the floor...although he could only stand by leaning against the wall and was still losing blood.  
“Arya...”
“Don’t call me that again,” she snapped.  “That...That is not my name.”  


“I don’t care.  Whatever you want to call yourself...whatever that monster did to you or made you do...I don’t care.  You’re still my sister.  You will always be my sister.  And whether you remember it or not, you are still a Stark of Winterfell.  And you still have a family.  Sansa and Rickon are alive.  Bran might be alive too.  Do you remember them?”

“I...I think so...Sansa...I remember that name, but the other ones...”  

“Please...you have to trust me.  No matter what the Others did to you, you’re not one of them.  You’ll never be one of them.  The Red Woman may know of some way to undo whatever they’ve done to you, but even if she doesn’t, I promise that somehow I will find a way to...”  


“NO!” she shouted, pointing Needle at Jon.  He wants to force me to abandon my pack.  I won’t leave them!  Not again!  Never again!  He can’t take them away from me!  I won’t let him!  “Stay away...I...I’ll kill you...please don’t...they’ll hate me if...promise you won’t...promise me,” Beltaine pleaded.

For a moment, Jon simply stared at her.  “You...you don’t want...very well.  If that is the only way then I...I promise,” he replied sadly.  “But we have to go now, before it is too late...before the dragons burn Winterfell to the ground!”  I forgot about the the dragons, Beltaine realized.  She silently cursed Culrikhan for sending so many of her little cousins to their deaths.  I have to save them...somehow.  I killed the Night’s King, that means they will listen to me now.  I am the Night’s Queen.  I will lead them somewhere safe.  Somewhere far North of here where there are no dragons to fear or names to hate.  I will lead my pack back to the Land of Always Winter.

“We have to leave now!” Jon shouted.  “Come with me...if not to save yourself than for the sake of your family...please!”  
Beltaine looked at him and shook her head sadly.  “I already have a family...my real family.  The only one I ever want to have.”  Jon opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, he passed out and fell to the ground in a pool of blood.  

Beltaine didn’t know where it came from, but a voice called out to her.  “The Godswood.  The Godswood.  The Godswood.”  
“Who are you?  Where are you?” she shouted.  
“The Godswood.  The Godswood.  The Godswood.”  
“I hate those stupid weirwood trees!” snapped Beltaine.  
“Take...him...the Godswood,” the voice moaned.  

Somehow, Beltaine knew that the voice was trying to tell her that Jon would be safe if she took him to the weirwood trees.  It didn’t seem to matter anymore where the voice was coming from or whose it was or even that she hated weirwood trees.  Culrikhan had already torn down most of the them, but there were still a few trees left.  Beltaine carefully dragged Jon’s body all the way to what used to be the Godswood and gently laid it down next to a weirwood tree.  You’ll be safe here.

Beltaine did not know how they knew, it didn’t matter, her brothers and sisters all seemed to sense that she had killed the Night’s King.  The moment she decided to lead them back to the Land of Always Winter, they began to retreat en masse.  She summoned a snow storm so strong that the dragons could not pursue them and were forced to turn back as ice rained down from the sky.  Beltaine silently thanked the Great Other when she saw that most of her pack was still alive as they began to make their way north.

Her brothers and sisters did not hate her for killing the Night’s King.  If anything, they seemed to almost admire her for it.  They hated him as much as I did, she realized.  They only followed him because they feared him.  They did not seem to fear her and yet her little cousins followed her all the same.  Eventually, they reached the ruins of what had once been the Wall.  The lone wolf has found her pack, the Night’s Queen thought with a smile.  She knew that she would never lose them again.  She was finally going home and for the first time that she could remember, Beltaine was happy.

[Chancellor Tanterterg]

Bumped in light of last night’s GoT (which makes the way this storyline ended hilarious in hindsight)

[Chancellor Tanterterg]

HBO owes you two royalties...they must have had a spy on this board among their scriptwriters!!!

I mean, D&D are notoriously awful at original writing and that was the last great episode of the series