Alright, this thread is going to have me re-post this old thing I did so long ago:
Jon XX
Jon Snow burst out of the freezing water, the cold air piercing his lungs. He had survived, barely. And, had managed to retain Longclaw. His reward for saving the Old Bear, a triumph that seemed so long ago. He pulled himself out of his would be frozen coffin, the Drowned God would not have him today. Yet, it seemed a futile gesture. Daenerys, the Dragon Queen, and all his seemingly doomed companions had left him. A necessary sacrifice in the Great War. He recalled the look on the Queen's face as she lifted off, high away on her legendary dragon, Drogon. Her silver hair blowing in the winds of winter. He wondered what she was thinking in those final moments, was it the pain of losing a newly gained ally in her fight for the Throne or something more...
It made no difference now. He was alone, once again. A solitary wolf, his pack long gone. By now they should be safely behind The Wall, back inside the warm halls of Eastwatch by the Sea. The War would continue, but without him. The dead were all around him, there was no escape. Why did he climb out of that frozen lake? Wouldn't it have been more peaceful to die swallowed up by the sea? No, that was not the Stark way. He should die with a sword in his hand, in the lands of his ancestors, The First Men, fighting the ancient enemy. Jon's sword hand opened and closed, flexing the burned fingers beneath the glove, a habit he had grown accustomed to. Curiously, he could no longer feel any pain in his burned hand. In fact, he felt nothing at all.
Of course it stops now, I am about to die. I wonder how many I can take with me?
But, before he could finish the thought, a curious sound erupted from the eastern side of the frozen shore. Suddenly, a dazzling spark lit up and went out with a thud. Jon was paralyzed with confusion. He quickly realized it was a man on a horse, fighting the Others alone. Was he saved? But, who could it be? Immediately, his mind went to Gendry. The mad boy must have come back to save me after making it all the way to Eastwatch. Yet, as his vision cleared he noticed that the figure was wielding a flaming thurible in his hand which he whipped about before crashing it into the sea of the undead army. Jon could barely crawl to the figure before he could see that the man was coming towards him. The mounted, shrouded figure rode straight up to his shivering body before dismounting, revealing his face. At first, Jon Snow reacted with panic, it's another undead servant of the Others. His face was pale, his skin peeling apart, and most curiously there was no sign of a frozen breath as he walked toward him. Suddenly, the grotesque visage gave way to a more familiar face.
"Uncle Benjen! "
Jon couldn't believe is eyes. How long did they search for his lost Uncle Benjen, a First Ranger of the Night's Watch that disappeared in what seemed ages ago. Long before the Great War, before the return of Dragons, before his brothers had all died, before the cave...
Jon collapsed under the weight of it all. This undead figure that bared his Uncle's face, lifted him up, placing him on his horse.
"You ride for the pass." He stated, a tired sadness in his voice.
Jon Snow had so many questions, so many things he wanted to tell his Uncle, all the things he had seen, everything he had done. But, all he could blurt out was, "Come with me."
"There's no time," his Uncle stated, shaking his head in a manner that brokered no debate. He then smacked the rear end of his horse yelling, "GO!" Forcing the horse to speed off without him, a solemn look of finality on his face.
But, Jon couldn't understand, there was plenty of time. In fact, by his arithmetic they had at least a minute or so more of time before the Army of the Dead could reach either of them. And, there was plenty of room on the Horse to accommodate both of them. Even moreso, Jon was in no fighting strength. Meanwhile, his Uncle seemed perfectly able to deal with multiple undead servants. Did he think that Jon would not encounter any other Others on his way back to the Wall? What could his Uncle gain by a hopeless final battle against the Others? Why hadn't he explained to Jon just how exactly he managed to survive for so long? Why he hadn't come back to Castle Black if he was still alive? Why hadn't he tried to warn them of what was to come? There was time left, why was he insisting otherwise?
Then it hit Jon like the blast of frozen water that shook his whole body when he fell into the lake. Benjen Stark was a minor character in a grand story that was coming to a close, his looming mystery was no longer necessary. As such, the only way the cruel New Gods could think of closing off his journey was to kill him in the most nonsensical way possible. A jape at the Old God that crafted the character in the first place. The New Gods had plans for Jon Snow, plans involving a silver haired dragon Queen with a fiery portcullis which he would need to dock his ship into. Benjen Stark could undue such plans. And that, the New Gods could not allow.
Jon Snow galloped back to the Wall in the silence of the Winds of Winter.
Jon XX
Jon Snow burst out of the freezing water, the cold air piercing his lungs. He had survived, barely. And, had managed to retain Longclaw. His reward for saving the Old Bear, a triumph that seemed so long ago. He pulled himself out of his would be frozen coffin, the Drowned God would not have him today. Yet, it seemed a futile gesture. Daenerys, the Dragon Queen, and all his seemingly doomed companions had left him. A necessary sacrifice in the Great War. He recalled the look on the Queen's face as she lifted off, high away on her legendary dragon, Drogon. Her silver hair blowing in the winds of winter. He wondered what she was thinking in those final moments, was it the pain of losing a newly gained ally in her fight for the Throne or something more...
It made no difference now. He was alone, once again. A solitary wolf, his pack long gone. By now they should be safely behind The Wall, back inside the warm halls of Eastwatch by the Sea. The War would continue, but without him. The dead were all around him, there was no escape. Why did he climb out of that frozen lake? Wouldn't it have been more peaceful to die swallowed up by the sea? No, that was not the Stark way. He should die with a sword in his hand, in the lands of his ancestors, The First Men, fighting the ancient enemy. Jon's sword hand opened and closed, flexing the burned fingers beneath the glove, a habit he had grown accustomed to. Curiously, he could no longer feel any pain in his burned hand. In fact, he felt nothing at all.
Of course it stops now, I am about to die. I wonder how many I can take with me?
But, before he could finish the thought, a curious sound erupted from the eastern side of the frozen shore. Suddenly, a dazzling spark lit up and went out with a thud. Jon was paralyzed with confusion. He quickly realized it was a man on a horse, fighting the Others alone. Was he saved? But, who could it be? Immediately, his mind went to Gendry. The mad boy must have come back to save me after making it all the way to Eastwatch. Yet, as his vision cleared he noticed that the figure was wielding a flaming thurible in his hand which he whipped about before crashing it into the sea of the undead army. Jon could barely crawl to the figure before he could see that the man was coming towards him. The mounted, shrouded figure rode straight up to his shivering body before dismounting, revealing his face. At first, Jon Snow reacted with panic, it's another undead servant of the Others. His face was pale, his skin peeling apart, and most curiously there was no sign of a frozen breath as he walked toward him. Suddenly, the grotesque visage gave way to a more familiar face.
"Uncle Benjen! "
Jon couldn't believe is eyes. How long did they search for his lost Uncle Benjen, a First Ranger of the Night's Watch that disappeared in what seemed ages ago. Long before the Great War, before the return of Dragons, before his brothers had all died, before the cave...
Jon collapsed under the weight of it all. This undead figure that bared his Uncle's face, lifted him up, placing him on his horse.
"You ride for the pass." He stated, a tired sadness in his voice.
Jon Snow had so many questions, so many things he wanted to tell his Uncle, all the things he had seen, everything he had done. But, all he could blurt out was, "Come with me."
"There's no time," his Uncle stated, shaking his head in a manner that brokered no debate. He then smacked the rear end of his horse yelling, "GO!" Forcing the horse to speed off without him, a solemn look of finality on his face.
But, Jon couldn't understand, there was plenty of time. In fact, by his arithmetic they had at least a minute or so more of time before the Army of the Dead could reach either of them. And, there was plenty of room on the Horse to accommodate both of them. Even moreso, Jon was in no fighting strength. Meanwhile, his Uncle seemed perfectly able to deal with multiple undead servants. Did he think that Jon would not encounter any other Others on his way back to the Wall? What could his Uncle gain by a hopeless final battle against the Others? Why hadn't he explained to Jon just how exactly he managed to survive for so long? Why he hadn't come back to Castle Black if he was still alive? Why hadn't he tried to warn them of what was to come? There was time left, why was he insisting otherwise?
Then it hit Jon like the blast of frozen water that shook his whole body when he fell into the lake. Benjen Stark was a minor character in a grand story that was coming to a close, his looming mystery was no longer necessary. As such, the only way the cruel New Gods could think of closing off his journey was to kill him in the most nonsensical way possible. A jape at the Old God that crafted the character in the first place. The New Gods had plans for Jon Snow, plans involving a silver haired dragon Queen with a fiery portcullis which he would need to dock his ship into. Benjen Stark could undue such plans. And that, the New Gods could not allow.
Jon Snow galloped back to the Wall in the silence of the Winds of Winter.
