Year 102 A.C.
POV: Denovan
"And why would you give us all this, Denovan?" he asked, distrust still crawling in his voice.
"Because I don't have enough men to do everything alone. What use would it be to build an immense port city if it remains empty?"
Morn looked at his own calloused hands.
"We, here in the True North, suffer from the cold and hunger in a way that no one on the other side of the Wall even imagines. The southerners don't understand our reality, and would hardly make any effort to accept us, even if we had boats."
"You are right, they hate us, but not as much as our people hate them," I agreed, leaning forward. "But what if we had a formidable walled city behind us? A fleet of warships, warriors equipped with steel weapons, heavy cavalry... Would they still continue to treat us as mere hungry savages? Would they be able to deny us passage or trade on the other side?"
Morn remained in silence for a moment.
"They would still be stubborn," I answered myself. "But we would be strong. We would have the resources to force their respect. And if even then Westeros denied us, we could simply bypass the Wall with our ships and trade with the warm lands even further south. And if you fear the legends about the horrors of the sea, Morn, I tell you: there is something much greater waiting for me in the frozen waters. Something that would make us invincible. There will be no ship in the world capable of defeating us."
"Help me, Morn..." I asked, lowering my guard for an instant. "Let us become a legend for future generations. Or do you prefer that your people continue to slowly rot here in the North?"
Morn looked at me with a mixture of doubt and deep apprehension. He swallowed hard before speaking, his voice carrying a hint of hesitation.
"Tell me, Black Beast... what is this that awaits you in the seas? The legends of the Ancients tell of giants and terrible beasts that walk upon the earth and beneath the ice, but almost nothing about what hides in the depths of the sea..."
I gave a slow smile, my canines now a bit sharper than normal showing themselves, giving me an undeniably bestial air. I extended my right hand toward him.
"Follow me, Morn, and I make you a promise. The same one I made to my own brother before leaving. I will show you the world beyond this ice. From the green and fertile lands of the South, with their castles that touch the clouds... to the legendary dragons that fly in the infinite sky."
His gaze locked onto mine.
"I, Denovan, whom you title the Black Beast, promise you before the Old Gods that you will see more glory and plenty walking by my side than if you lived infinite purposeless lives hunting in these frozen lands."
Morn's eyes widened. The audacity of my promises seemed almost magical to a man who only knew snow and hunger.
My tone of voice changed, becoming more serious, and my smile diminished.
"In exchange for that, I ask only one thing: that you follow my orders when the time comes. I will not force you to do anything that goes against the honor of your people, and you and your elders will always have a voice in the council of our future kingdom."
"Do you accept... Chief of the Bone-Ice, Morn?" I extended my hand a bit further, waiting.
Morn looked at me, deeply pensive. But I saw a spark born in his eyes. That same burning spark that appears in a child's eyes when you tell stories about heroes and gods. The spark of hope.
"Many powerful men on this side of the Wall tried to be Kings, Denovan. They tried to invade the South," Morn said softly. "But I have never heard of a man who wants to build a kingdom here. Someone who doesn't just think about escaping through the Wall..."
"I am different, Morn. I have seen much more than most men will ever see."
The chief took a deep breath.
"I will give you a chance. But know one thing: I will not mind breaking my word and cutting your throat if you break yours."
"A man is worth exactly as much as his words are worth, Chief Morn..." I replied calmly.
I was almost getting tired of keeping my hand extended in the air when, finally, he took it firmly, squeezing it with the strength of a bear.
"I do not consider myself your subordinate, boy. I will help you build this in the same way you promised to help us."
"I will return personally to collect on your words in a few years," I declared.
He looked at me in a somewhat strange way and furrowed his brow.
"Years?"
"I intend to gather dozens of wildling clans, and rebuild a port from scratch. I cannot do that in weeks, Morn..."
"I hope you can survive until then," he snorted, letting go of my hand. "I really want to see the damn dragons you spoke of."
I gave a wide and sincere smile.
"You will see them, Morn. Now, do me a favor: prepare a warm tent for me and my companions. In the coming days, I will share some knowledge with your tribe, and I intend for you to hand over some of your young warriors to come with me, as proof of your willingness to help me."
Morn crossed his arms, his stubbornness returning quickly.
"Hum. Don't start giving me orders already, Denovan..."
"Yes, yes," I waved my hand, dismissing his pride. "Then look at it as a great favor between allies."
"Tsk. I'll have them set up a place," he grumbled, turning his back and leaving the cabin.
Some hours later...
We were all gathered in the spacious cabin they gave us. Me, Sigrid, and the warriors we had already recruited along the way: Thormund, Korr, Svenn, and Harhold.
"Why did you accept such a loose agreement, Denovan?" Sigrid questioned, cleaning her sword. "You should have demanded total submission."
"We would never get that immediately, Sig," I sighed, sitting near the central fire. "I don't have enough reputation to reach this far into the Far North. I don't have an army behind me. To them, for now, I am just a strange warrior with wild beasts who just killed their relatives in battle."
"Exactly!" Sig retorted. "They would rather die fighting than submit to you in this diplomatic way. You saw how they fought out there... how they didn't give up even seeing their own men dying by the dozens..."
"Then what use would it be for me to play the tyrant?" I pushed back. "If in every clan we pass we try to force them to submit or die, we will end up ruling a cemetery, Sig. Nothing of my plan will work without living people."
I rubbed my face, feeling the exhaustion of the last few days.
"Well, anyway, I don't intend to repeat this tactic with the next ones," I confessed. "I imagined that most large clans would accept a leadership challenge and honor the old laws, but I was wrong. Some simply will not let a stranger take command peacefully."
I looked at the men around me.
"Therefore, here is our new strategy: we are going to recruit six more good men from this clan tomorrow. After that, we are going to focus on passing through the smaller clans first. I believe that the smaller clans need much more stability and protection against the winter and against other clans; they will be much more willing to follow us for food and security. I was foolish to want to subjugate the larger clans from the start. I thought everyone would be as pragmatic and honorable as the Nightrunners clan, but I was mistaken."
I saw the countenance of Thormund, one of the former Nightrunners who was with us, become a little less surly after my words. An indirect compliment to his people never hurt the group's morale.
"Humm... I don't quite understand the politics behind it," Sigrid said, scratching her head, looking genuinely confused. "But if you say so, I believe it. Just answer me one thing: how are you going to do it now? Letting the Bone-Ice Clan be treated as an 'equal', doesn't that hinder what you told me you were planning about being a King?"
"If I left the situation like that forever, yes, it would hinder it," I explained with a calculating smile. "But when the time comes for everyone to gather at Hardhome, whether he wants to or not, Morn will be a subordinate. He will arrive there in smaller numbers than my coalition, he will have fewer resources than I will be able to provide and, to keep his people alive and safe behind my walls, he will follow my orders. The actual power will stay with me. He just needs to believe he is an equal partner until he gets there."
Sig's eyes widened slightly.
"You are much more treacherous than I imagined, Denovan," she said with a note of disdain in her voice.
I furrowed my brow and replied:
"I am not acting in a treacherous way, Sig. It is just the reality of the world. Everyone who steps into Hardhome when the port city is built will be under my protection, but they will also have to be willing to follow my law."
I stared at the fire, the vision of a prosperous city burning in my mind.
"I will give them warm houses, plenty of food, clean water, and knowledge. In exchange, they will bend the knee."
"It sounds very simple when you say it out loud," she snorted.
"There's no use rushing things. Rome wasn't... I mean, Valyria wasn't built in a day," I corrected myself quickly. "We will spend about two weeks here. Orion and Kali were wounded in the last skirmish and, from what I see, Svenn has a nasty wound on his thigh. This time will help them to fully recover. The next battles will be easier, Sig, I promise you..."
I gave a light caress to her hair as I stood up.
"Now let's rest. I am dead tired..."
Hours later...
In the middle of the night, as always happened, my dreams pulled me to the dark depths of the sea, straight into the mind of the gigantic ice serpent.
But things were different. I was feeling increasingly lucid in these dreams as more time passed, and, from what I perceived, she was too.
The connection was changing. I felt that the serpent was not exactly my "friend." It was a colossal and primordial predator. I felt her visceral discomfort while I occupied her eyes. I felt her cold and murderous irritation whenever I tried to exercise any control over the gigantic swimming. She fought against me.
And I was almost absolutely certain that she was not just a "simple" giant serpent forgotten at the bottom of the sea of Westeros. The temperament, the absurd power that radiated from her scales... For now, I called her Wyrm in my thoughts. I still hadn't managed to see the exact shape of her head because of the darkness and the currents, but all the rest of her body was serpentine.
But the more I thought about the old stories of the North that Sigorn told me, and even the legends of the age of heroes that were in George Martin's books, a specific name hammered in my head: Naga.
The sea dragon of the legends that was supposedly killed by the Grey King. The legends of the Ironborn said that the Grey King built his throne with the bones and teeth of Naga during the Age of Heroes.
Could the beast of my dreams be of the same species as the legendary Naga? Or... could it be that the legend lied, and the Grey King never truly killed her?
My frenetic thoughts and the freezing water of the dream were suddenly interrupted by a sharp mental pulse coming from Nix, my little owl.
I opened my eyes in the tent, pulling in air with force and returning to reality in a jump. I was groggy and sweating cold. Through the link with the owl, I received the clear image of Sigrid running stealthily out of the camp. She seemed to be very excited, but there was a trace of fear and anxiety in her.
Before I could even put on my boots to go after her, the tent flap opened. Sigrid herself invaded my space, her green eyes shining with excitement.
"Novan! Novan!" she whispered loudly. "I dreamed of wolves! They were huge! Can I skinchange with one of them too?"
I sigh.
"Dreams give indications of affinity, Sig. That doesn't mean you can just go running out and connect to a wild wolf by force. You would need months to break its will and build a secure bond..."
"Then how do you manage to do it so easily with everything you find?" she retorted, impatient.
"I am different, Sig. And you know that. My connection is... anomalous. Do not use me as a standard."
"Arrogant..." she murmured, rolling her eyes. "But come on, get up! I saw them in the dream. They are not that far from here. You help me, I'm sure I can connect with one of them if you hold the beast!" She was already pulling my arm.
"How many were there, Sig?" I asked, letting go of my hand and speaking very seriously. "Wolves are dangerous, but direwolves are nightmares. If Orion and Kali are large, an adult direwolf must be approximately the same size!"
She looked at me with a touch of frustration and an almost childish pout.
"It might be my only opportunity to have a real beast, Denovan... Come on, please!" she asked with those stray puppy eyes.
I rubbed my face with both hands, exhausted.
"How many were there, Sig? You didn't answer me the most important thing."
"I counted three..."
I looked at her, deeply suspicious of that quick answer. I know my sister.
"Three? Are you counting all of them? The adults, the novice pups, and the elderly? Or did you only count 'the ones that matter'?"
She snorted, turning her gaze to the tent floor.
"Fine, there were five! Okay? One was really big, must have been the alpha of the whole damn thing, and the others must have been the betas."
"That's many direwolves hunting in a pack, Sig. We are not going. I'm sorry, but I cannot put yours and my life at risk for a whim in the middle of the night in the middle of a hostile territory."
"Tsk..." she clicked her tongue. "You only say that because you already have Orion and Kali as companions! If you didn't have them, you would be the first to grab the axe and throw yourself in the middle of that pack to bond with one!"
"Maybe," I admitted. "But I am in command now, and I said no."
"Idiot!" she cursed irritably, turned on her heels and walked out of the cabin with heavy steps.
"Don't go after them alone, Sig!" I warned loud enough for her to hear outside.
Knowing how stubborn she was, I sent a tired mental command.
'Nix, stay flying high and watching her. I know you hunted all night and are tired, but do this favor for me.'
The response came as a soft and resigned hoot in my mind. 'Cru-cru.'
I threw myself back onto the bear skins, staring at the dark ceiling of the tent. She wouldn't go alone, would she? With these thoughts tormenting me, I couldn't close my eyes anymore. I spent the whole night awake, turning from one side to the other. We had a fierce battle in the morning, followed by a long day of grueling diplomatic discussions with Chief Morn, and I couldn't sleep even a measly three hours the next night.
"I'm finished..." I murmured, dragging myself out of the tent when the first grey light of morning touched the snow.
At least Sigrid didn't give me the slip and didn't run into the forest during the night; Nix's peripheral vision confirmed to me that she stayed in her tent. I would have been really very furious in case she went after a pack of direwolves alone. She would be shredded in seconds.
A few moments later, I found Sig on the way to the fires and greeted her as if nothing had happened.
"Good morning, Sig. Have a good night's sleep? I couldn't sleep at all."
She looked deep into my eyes, the anger from the middle of the night still alive, and grunted:
"Tsk."
And she walked off toward the frozen river, passing by me as if I were invisible.
"I'll consider that an 'everything is great, brother'!" I said with a voice loud enough for her to hear as she moved away.
The rest of the day passed reasonably calmly. During the afternoon, I showed the clan's healers some basic, yet vital, techniques for sterilizing wounds using boiling water, clean cloths, and fire — something that saved many Thenns in the past — nothing too much or complex.
I said some things about the use of bronze for weapons, but to my frustration, the Nightrunners had absolutely no access to copper or tin ores. Nothing that could forge a measly bronze dagger. That was sad. Some of the elite warriors had rusted steel blades that they looted from dead rangers, but there was nothing I could do with that. After all, any rudimentary forging technique I taught them now would never be enough to fix or reforge a quality steel sword. Practical knowledge and tools were missing.
Afterward, I talked again with Morn, the tribe chief. I decided to teach them the principles of how to build a basic stone forge and leather bellows to heat and shape cheap iron. They started the work excited. Morn even seemed hopeful, saying that maybe they would find ore in some caves further north.
I doubted it would be that simple to find good metals around there, but in case they did, at least they would manage to make better spear tips than chipped stones.
The next three days passed like that. Slow and focused on organization. Gradually, the clan members lost much of the hostility they had toward us when we arrived. The exception were the relatives and widows of the warriors who were killed by my men during the siege; they still looked at me with pure hatred. It was understandable. I would do the same.
On the fourth night, I called Sig into our tent.
"Sig," I said, sitting near the small fire.
She looked at me, crossing her arms, and gave a nod for me to continue. The ice between us had already melted a bit.
"Don't get me wrong, I'm not wanting to make fun of you for what happened the other night," I began carefully. "But did you have any more dreams with the direwolves? After that day?"
She looked at me with a clear flash of suspicion. "Why?"
"I'm serious, Sig."
"You want to tame one for yourself, don't you?" she accused.
"It's not that," I sighed, leaning my head on my hand. "As you know, I have prophetic dreams or visions almost every night. Usually, I'm in the dark ocean, trapped in the colossal body of an ice serpent... the same story as always, you already know."
She nodded, curiosity beginning to replace the anger.
"But since that night, when you interrupted me in the tent wanting to go hunting wolves, I haven't had any more dreams. None. It might seem like a silly concern of someone who is exhausted..."
"Do you think you lost the gift?" she asked, her voice lowering in tone.
"...But I have been having these damn dreams every night for many years. Very few nights in my life were exceptions of silence in my head. And now it stopped out of nowhere."
Sigrid looked at me, her brow furrowed in concern.
"I haven't had any more dreams with the wolves since that day either. But I am not one to have constant visions like you, Novan. Having dreamed only once has nothing strange to me."
I stayed looking deep into her large green eyes for long seconds, trying to find some clue, some magical disturbance, until her voice cut the silence.
"Stop looking at me in that intense way... it seems like you are reading my soul or seeing what's inside me. It bothers me."
I sigh. "My bad..." I said, quickly turning my gaze to the flames of the campfire.
"Maybe it's just coincidence. The stress of the trip," I murmured, trying to convince myself more than her.
Some hours later...
I lay down on the heavy skins to sleep with the same freezing concern I had when I woke up days ago. My dreams with the ice serpent really stopped. Was everything okay with my brain? Or had the sea beast finally closed her mind to my invasion? I didn't have a good feeling about that.
When I fell asleep, I instantly realized I was dreaming again.
But now, looking at the immensity of the shadow forest surrounding me, I didn't feel the relief of returning to normal. Instead, I had a terrible, horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. Something was very wrong.
I wasn't floating in the frozen sea. I wasn't in the monstrous body of the serpent. I wasn't in the body of a hawk, horse, owl, or tiger.
I was in my own body.
This made everything even more bizarre and frightening.
"Four nights without dreams and now this..." I tried to speak out loud, but by the looks of it, the words didn't come out. My vocal cords didn't vibrate. I couldn't make any sound.
I took a step forward and stepped hard on a dry branch covered in snow. It didn't crush. It didn't break. It didn't make any noise. It was almost as if I were a ghost that couldn't interact with the matter of this world.
I turned my attentive eyes to the surroundings while I continued to walk, floating forward through the untouched snow.
Is this the work of the Old Gods? Did the Three-Eyed Raven decide to play with me? Or is the R.O.B. itself that sent me to this world interfering again? What brought me here to this lucid dream?
By the colossal amount of snow on the roots and by the species of trees that tore through the cloudy skies, I deduced that I was certainly still in the Far North region. I continued walking. The trunks were wide and dark, very similar to those of the virgin forest where the giant bear had attacked us months ago.
This mountain region didn't seem strange to me. The geography was familiar in the back of my memory. I continued walking like a specter until I reached a rocky elevation where the tree line opened. From there, I had a clean view of a partially frozen lake, which was in the outskirts of the territory of the Bone-Ice Tribe.
"I'm not that far from the camp where I'm sleeping. I wonder if I go to the tent, can I see my own body snoring on the skins?"
Before I could test the theory of astral projection, I began to descend the mountain slope toward the lake and stopped.
My spiritual ears caught sounds. The fierce noise of angry howls, deep barks, and loud, wet sounds of thumping and bones breaking.
The wolves! Are they the direwolves from Sig's dream?
I changed the direction of my path at the same time and began to run desperately toward the violent cacophony. As I was in my dream body enhanced, I heard from very far away, and my speed was absurd, almost as if the air offered me no resistance.
I ran between the birches and pines, while descending the mountain rocks, and the sound of roars and pain got louder and more brutal. It was, without a doubt, the chaotic sound of a life-and-death battle in the animal world.
When I finally broke through the line of thick bushes and reached the small clearing where the origin of the sound came from, the scene made my steps freeze.
The place was covered in fresh, vivid red blood, melting the snow. A massive body of a grey direwolf was crushed in a corner against the rocks, dead, its chest bones shattered. The place was destroyed. Young trees were splintered in half and the ground seemed to have been hit by an avalanche.
But the dead direwolf and the chaos of the battle were not what truly caught and terrified my attention.
What I saw standing in the center of the clearing, panting and dripping blood, was something I swore, by all the gods, I would never see loose through the forests in this life.
A...
-/-/-
Thank you for reading, leave a comment and a review to help me improve my writing and this story as a whole, and if you liked it give me your power stones.
If you want to support me even more, go to my Patreon, there are updated images of how I imagine the characters and for now, eight advanced chapter.
Just remove the space and put it on Google, I am sure you will find
patreon. com/ cw/ DanLyn.