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Epilogue
Topic Started: Oct 24 2012, 07:42 AM (316 Views)
LadyRahl
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Supreme Goddess Of All Things Bright And Shiny
Adjusting the heavy black furs around his shoulder he spurred his horse forward through the thick snow and farther into the thick forest. He hated snow. He hated everything about snow. He hated the way it clung to his hair, he hated the way it melted on his skin, and he hated the way it weighted down his clothing. Most of all he hated the cold.

It sucked all the warmth out of his skin in less than a second this far north.

Damn the bitch for sending him to the Wall. He would have rather have lost his head at the Sept but no, she’d been what she’d called merciful. Selby Snow or Visenya Targaryen… whatever she called herself she was a cunt and if he had half a chance he’d peel off her skin and feed it to that damned direwolf of hers. Of course the people had loved her all the more for it and he felt bile rise in the back of his throat at the thought. The crown… his crown… and now for all his effort, all his years of hard work and planning he had nothing while Elmar Bolton had been pardoned.

Elmar Bolton… a snarl came to his lips as he thought of the man. The younger brother of Enoch Bolton who had turned traitor in the end. Family loyalty be damned, he’d been looking out for himself first and foremost and because, just because he’d helped out the little whore in the end he’d been granted his freedom and a plush life down in King’s Landing for the time being. She’d thanked him, actually thanked him for helping them and ignored all the sins that he’d committed along the way. A pardon… he turned his head and spat in the snow. The gods were not just.

They were not completely out of the loop on the Wall. Gods no, they received ravens from King’s Landing and the strongholds telling them of important developments in Westeros. He looked off to his right lost in thought, eyes not really focused on anything and blinked as Willem drew his horse to a halt.

“We walk from here,” Willem said sliding out of the saddle waiting for him and Dev to dismount as well. “Dev, you head up that path. You, you come with me. You’re too bloody green to be out here alone this far out.”

He sighed as he slid out of the saddle and fell into step behind Willem irritated. He wasn’t some helpless female that couldn’t wield a sword. By the gods, he thought, he hated the snow. Winter had finally hit full force and some of the snow drifts were up to his chest and they pushed their way around them avoiding the deepest segments as much as possible. There had been reports of wildling activity which is what had led to them venturing this far north of the Wall. From what little they knew Mance Rayder, the King Beyond the Wall as the wildlings called him, had been looking for the Horn of Winter which in his opinion was a load of horse shit. A magical horn that would raise giants form the earth. He rolled his eyes at the very thought as they kept walking.

That fucking septon, Robar Wade? Wode? Whatever… he’d been removed from his standing as septon. A fair judgment by the High Septon if anyone were to ask him. He dared to take a side, a side against him no less after they’d been so generous to him during the fighting. What had the cunt done? She’d put the bastard on the Small Council as Master of Laws. What did a septon know about the laws? He’d betrayed the order… if anyone deserved to be on the wall it was that man.

Oh and her pet sellsword, gods… what was his name? Jonah? Jeriso? He was a sellsword what did it matter? He had been named Lord Commander of the City Watch. He’d just about choked on his breakfast when he’d been told that. A bloody sellsword? Lord Commander of the City Watch… might as well have named him Lord Commander of the Queensguard. A thug to rule the thugs he supposed which is what a lot of the City Watch was. Still… a bloody sellsword. He snorted in anger as he walked behind Willem, hand resting on his sword.

Ned Stark, well from what they had been told had turned down her offer to make him her Hand and stated that he wanted to return back to Winterfell as Warden of the North. Turned. Down. Being. Hand. He wanted to vomit at the thought. How much of a fool could one man be? He could have been the most powerful man in the kingdom and what did he want to do? Run home with his fail tucked between his legs to Winterfell with his children. The man had no ambition! It was disgusting. Run back home Stark, he thought, run home and hide… he would be the first to fall when he escaped his imposed sentence. For life his ass… he’d ride to Winterfell and slaughter the Starks in their sleep before moving to his next target.

And the Lannisters… those fucking turncoat Lannisters… traitors each and every one of them. At least Jaime Lannister had enough self-respect to have disappeared. Tyrion Lannister his stunted brother had been reinstated as a member of the Small Council but this time as Master of Ships. In his opinion she probably thought it was a good position so that he could travel to the shipyards across the Narrow Sea and search for his brother. Plus she needed Tywin Lannister’s favor and my treating his family well she was able to keep it. He wanted nothing more than to strip the dwarf naked in the forest with a horde of hungry wild boars in pursuit. Cersei though… Cersei and Jemma had been allowed to remain in King’s Landing as honored guests while the search for her brother continued. He knew that she would not leave until they found him either alive or dead and the child, she’d named the boy Jax. A boy… his boy… and here he was on the Wall… with nothing but snow for company.

And his brother… Hand of the Queen. His blood boiled at the idea but he understood why. It had nothing to do with Leon’s brains or talents but because the cunt needed to heal the rift and bad feelings between Dorne and the rest of the kingdoms. Stark had probably hated the idea, probably as much as he did. If he could trust him to take an order and follow through he’d send him word to kill the bitch but no… Leon was too honorable. Water was clearly thicker than blood in Leon’s case.

Fane Martell was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even notice when the mount of snow to their left started to shift and a scream echoed through the mountains of snow. Willem’s hand shot out, slamming into his chest and stopping him. That was when he came into the now.

Perhaps it might have been better if he hadn’t.

As Willem opened his mouth to tell him to turn around and head back towards Dev the snow erupted around them in a flurry of white and from under the snow came a dozen men and women, skin white and dead, eyes glowing blue, hands black.

“Impossi,” Willem started to say as a cold blackened hand wrapped around his neck and an instant later ripping his throat out in a spray of blood. Fane backed away as he watched Willem’s body fall, crimson blood soaking into the snow.

A second later and Fane Martell was gone. He simply turned and ran back the way that they had come, or the way that he thought that they had come. He’d only been named a ranger a few weeks before and this had been his first venture north of the Wall which meant that he had no experience navigating through a wash of white landscape and as the wind started to pick up it quickly erased any evidence of their footprints. Gasping for air against the cold he pushed forward. The flying snow blinded him and he couldn’t see more than a food in front of him but he didn’t slow his pace, not until he hit something that felt like a brick wall which sent him falling onto his ass.

Looking up he brushed his wet hair from his eyes to see the largest man he’d ever seen in his life. No, it wasn’t a man… it was a monster. It was something out of a nightmare, out of the scary stories he used to tell Jemma. It wasn’t possible… the white walkers were dead. They weren’t real. They didn’t exist. They were children stories for the gods sake!

He couldn’t even bring himself to draw his sword as it moved in close for the kill.

All Fane Martell could do… was scream.
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Skin by Spades aka Volture.