Chapter 4

Rogund's hut had transformed into a village in the few decades since I'd tracked him down and conscripted him to my service. The man had done well for himself with my support and while there had been enemies that sought to undo him, thirty to forty years later, one man had become a tribe. When I'd asked him what he would name his tribe, his hesitant answer had startled a laugh out of me. And then when I'd really thought about it, I'd kept on laughing, much to his dismay as he stood frozen as if expecting me to kill him on the spot once my hysterics died down.

Of course, while I could have tried to explain to the Wildling man why him choosing the name "Thenn" for his family had me bursting out into laughter, I didn't bother. It wasn't like he'd get the joke, no this was something only I could enjoy. My dumbass, inadvertently stumbling onto the man who, even without my intervention would have gone on to create the Thenns, a clan of Free Folk widely regarded as the most advanced wildling tribe from the show?

It was fate. Or just luck. I'd essentially targeted the first Free Folk to leave his cave and build an actual structure. It made sense that that would be the direct ancestor of the Thenn people in the end. Though weirdly enough, Rogund and his ever-growing family were not cannibalistic. However, he and his sons HAD taken to shaving their heads clean. According to Rogund it was in deference to me, but I had a sinking suspicion that the man just liked not having to deal with hair and he was imposing that on his male family members, using me as an excuse.

To be fair, I did make a fairly good excuse. Everyone in the growing tribe had seen me at least once, even the youngest babies. I made a point of 'blessing' the children as they were born. In reality, I did nothing to their babies, but considering my White Walker's protection kept even the most inquisitive of the Thenns alive, both Rogund and the spearwives that he had carried off from the cave dwellers believed my blessings to be very real and very powerful.

Thenn children survived to adulthood so long as sickness did not take them. And that was enough for the tribe to have grown to about a hundred strong in the last fifty years, off nothing more than Rogund himself and the wives that he'd taken. Such fortune was unheard of north of the Wall, and word of the Thenns was spreading among the Free Folk from what I understood.

As I walked into the large village that Rogund had built around his original hut, I saw for the first time faces I didn't recognize. The tribe had grown again, but this time it was not via new births, but through migration. Outsiders stared at me and my escort in wide eyed terror, clutching at their weapons if they had any. I let my unblinking gaze pass over each and every one of them but I never stopped moving towards my destination.

Stepping past the flaps that covered the door of the largest structure in the village, I looked upon the hut's inhabitants. Rogund lay in his bed, old and infirm. The man was approaching sixty or seventy now, I never had figured out how old or young he'd been when I first came across him. But he HAD been fairly short. Still, to live as long as he had in a place like this was a testament to me more than anything else I figured. But perhaps not. Perhaps Rogund Thenn would have gone on to live this happy full life with a large growing tribe even without my support. Not quite this large though I liked to imagine, assuaging my ego.

Stepping forward, I watched in approval as Rogund's sons and daughters and his remaining wives all parted before me respectfully. Their eyes downcast and their hands clasped together, they looked as though they were praying. Perhaps some of them even were. I was the Night King to Rogund, but to his family, I was their god and their protector. Worship was encouraged most enthusiastically and by this point, quite commonplace among the Thenn.

Rogund looked at me through weary eyes as he lay in his bed. He tried to rise, only to begin to hack. I placed a blue, clawed hand on his chest and gently eased him back down.

"Rest."

The Wildling nods his head as his coughing eventually settles. One of his young granddaughters has a bowl of heated water, though in this temperature it can't be more than lukewarm by this point no matter how long she spent with it by the fire. She looks at me hopefully and I smile, beckoning her forward with my free hand. All watch as she gives her grandfather some water, helping him to relax far quicker than if I'd just let the coughing fit run his course.

When he's finally able to, Rogund speaks.

"T-Thank you for coming your Grace. I have… news for you."

I can't help the softness in my smile. This mortal man has grown on me. Rogund Thenn was an ambitious sort, but he was also smart enough to know when he was overwhelming outmatched. He had served me well these last fifty years and never once had the man considered treachery, as far as I knew. The eyes and ears among the Free Folk, that was the role the Thenns served. I intended for them to do more eventually, but for now they did well in that position. Rogund would not have called me here if it was not important.

Though I had no way of knowing exactly how important it was as he stared up into my eyes with a seriousness that surprised me.

"Your grace… the Free Folk now have a King. There is one who would lay claim to the title, despite your hold over it. He has been declared King-Beyond-The-Wall."

I stare in silence down at my most faithful mortal servant as he looks back at me. The hut is quiet, my White Walkers standing in absolute silence while Rogund's family stare at me with bated breath, perhaps expecting an outburst. Instead, I find myself reeling at this information, because I have a sinking suspicion I know what's happening right now. Collecting myself, I keep any stutter or stammer or hesitation from my voice as I speak.

"And what is this King's name, my dear servant?"

Rogund swallows and wets his lips before answering.

"They call him Joramun, your Grace."

I find myself suddenly wondering where Lyanna is. It's only then that I realize I haven't seen my Queen in months. To be fair, I've been fairly focused on playing God. Building a village without the top down view that an RTS gives you can be a real hassle. That's not really an excuse for not knowing where my bloody Queen is though.

Reaching out, I hunt her down mentally and find just where she's gone. And like that, my suspicions are realized. At the same time, I'm utterly flabbergasted that this somehow came to pass. What is this world? Is this show canon or book canon? Where the fuck am I, that I and the White Walkers exist as nothing more than the discarded experiments of the Children of the Forest… while there's still a motherfucking Night's King on the goddamn Wall?!

Joramun is King-Beyond-The-Wall, the thirteenth commander of the Night's Watch has declared himself King ON the Wall with my missing Lyanna at his side and the crows under his and her spell, and I'd bet my entire fucking undead army that Brandon the fucking Breaker was King in the North! This was beyond insane. My single action in creating a female White Walker had somehow created the book scenario of three Kings fighting over the Wall?!

No… no I needed to think rationally. Obviously I had not somehow created Joramun, Brandon the Breaker, and the Night's King by turning Lyanna Stark. I'd certainly created the situation I now found myself in, through self-sabotage and my own stupidity, but it was clear that those three men existed in this time regardless of what was canon and what wasn't. I'd merely recreated a version of events by turning Lyanna and giving her free reign.

It was a coincidence. A massive one to be sure, but just a coincidence. And Lyanna was in big fucking trouble when this was all over. I was going to tan her pale blue hide. If she wasn't my Queen, I very well might have crushed her will through our bond right then and there, forcing her to desert her new pawn and come back north to me. Even with her status, if a plan hadn't started forming in my mind at that moment, I may very well have done it anyways.

None of my reaction had shown itself outwardly. I'd frozen up and stayed still as a statue as I stared off into the distance, a side effect of reaching out to find Lyanna. That didn't stop Rogund and his family from fretting though of course. When I was finally ready to move about again, I found Rogund staring at me in confusion and fear while his wives, children and grandchildren all prostrated themselves across the large hut in front of me.

Gazing down at them all, I flicked my glowing blue eyes back to Rogund and smiled.

"This is good news Rogund. Very good news. I would like to meet this Joramun, soon. But before that there is something else I must do. You do not look well, old friend."

There's a pause at that as Rogund's family looks up from where they have their foreheads pressed against the floor to watch the exchange between he and I. Rogund himself looks relieved for all of a second before I refer to him as 'old friend', something I've never addressed any mortal as in the long millennia I've spent on this world.

His confusion and fear return as he swallows nervously once more.

"I-I have grown old your Grace."

I nod in agreement, the smile on my lips spreading slowly.

"Indeed you have. Do you remember what I said to you that day all those years ago when we first met Rogund Thenn? When you had no village, no family, and no name? I don't suppose you would. Human memory is fragile. I would think this would have stuck, but no matter."

Rogund looks confused for all of one more moment before his brown eyes widen in remembrance and understanding. There's a flicker of hope in his gaze and then my hand is on his face, my claws pressing into his jaw. The transformation goes much the same as it did with Lyanna a century and a half before. Already an old, infirm man, Rogund ends up looking much like many of my other White Walkers, decrepit and gnarled. But here in the frozen north among the Free Folk, beauty is meaningless. Good looks are worthless. Strength is all that matters, especially among the Thenn who have been raised to worship MY strength.

I pull my hand back and when Rogund Thenn rises from his bed, tossing off furs and standing to reveal his new White Walker form in full, there are gasps and murmurs all around us. I gaze around the room and see faces filled with surprise, awe, and amazement. A smile still on my lips, I look back to my newest White Walker, feeling the connection between our minds. This should work…

"Rogund."

The transformed man's eyes snap to me immediately and his lips curl back into a toothy smile.

"Your Grace."

My own smile takes on a distinctive edge at that. As expected, it does work. The White Walkers remaining from the Long Night and the days of the Children's experiments are unintelligent. Even if I pull back my control over them, they are nothing but creatures of death and destruction, just as Leaf had assumed of me. Whatever the Children had done to transform us in the first place was meant to destroy our personalities, our very souls.

What I could do on the other hand, did not. As evidenced by Lyanna and now Rogund, MY White Walkers were sentient and retained their sense of self, so long as I allowed it. As Rogund's family stared at us from their places still kneeled on the floor, I reach out and clasp Rogund's arm as he instinctively does the same. Pulling him in close, my other hand closes around his shoulder and I grin ferally.

"Welcome to your eternal reward my child."

His glowing blue eyes slide down to where we touch and the words slip unbidden from his lips.

"Thank you… father."

I pause for a brief moment to consider that. The "my child" bit had been spur of the moment to be sure. But the more I thought about it, the more I liked the dynamic. So with a hearty laugh and a slap on my newest White Walker's back, I led him from his hut into the world beyond. Those who had been caring for him trailed after us in a daze as Rogund Thenn reborn introduced himself to his tribe.

Even as celebration began, I found my mind on other things. Lyanna had crossed me and though I could understand why, that did not make the blow any less painful. Still, I'd taken a direwolf for myself at the end of the Long Night and then I'd spent a hundred and fifty years refusing to properly tame it. What did I expect to happen?

Ah well, once the Night's King was brought low, I would have more than enough time to show my Queen the error of her ways. But I would not cheat and simply break her will. No, I would use other underhanded, dirty tactics to teach the she wolf a lesson. Lyanna may never love me of her own free will, but she would learn that her place was with her own kind at MY side, NOT with the humans to the South.

Still. I was a little amused by this betrayal. Once it was all said and done, I would make sure to ask her exactly what her plan had entailed, after I had thoroughly torn any chance of her success to shreds.

-x-X-x-

Lyanna ran her fingers through dark black hair and let out a sigh. The thirteenth Lord Commander of the Night's Watch lay beside her, staring up at the ceiling in silence. In terms of sexual prowess, he did not compare to the Night King unfortunately. By the Gods their names were annoyingly similar. When the Lord Commander had actually announced himself as the Night's King before his men and declared her his Night's Queen, Lyanna had had to actively resist the urge to roll his eyes at him.

The man thought himself clever for the title, given that he'd been the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch beforehand. But ultimately, it was just annoying, knowing that there was a Night King and now a Night's King and she hated the fact that one of them was better at fucking her, while the other lay there like a limp dead fish, making her fuck herself.

The problem with corrupting a human's mind, Lyanna had swiftly found out after enticing and seducing the thirteenth Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, was that they became slavishly devoted to you. She supposed this was what her fate would be if the Night King ever used their bond. She'd be nothing but a mindless slave, filled with nothing but love and adoration for her King.

Instead, here she was plotting his death. Lyanna wondered when he would get bored of his little village building for long enough to actually discover her absence. It had been months, but from her talks with Leaf she'd learned that the Night King had existed for an amount of time that boggled her mind. Perhaps he simply didn't see the passage of time in the same way.

All the better for her. She'd managed to worm her way into the Night's Watch with little effort and now here she lay beside the Lord Commander himself, enthralled to her service. Unfortunately, while she could stand atop the wall, she could not leave it and go south. That was apparently where the barrier that kept the White Walkers out lay.

She could never return to Winterfell, not as she was now. And if Leaf was to be believed, she could never reverse what the Night King had done to her. That left only one path open. To protect her descendants on BOTH sides of the Wall, she had to act. So act she had. Lyanna was ready now and so was her pawn. The Night's King would range out from the Wall with every crow under his command and they would hunt down the Night King armed with dragonglass spears and arrows.

The dangerous material was aplenty on the Wall and while it made Lyanna weary to be around it, she knew she would need all of it to even have a shot at victory. She would- Lyanna's thoughts were cut off as she felt it, HIM in the back of her mind. The female White Walker's lips pressed together tightly as the Night King reached out to her, a note of question in his mental touch.

So then, here it was. She'd been discovered and he would no doubt crush her mind and drag her back north. Her plan had always been a long shot, but Lyanna had had to try. She readied herself for the death of personality, glowing blue eyes staring down into the vacant face of the man she'd already done the same to.

Unlike her however, the Night King ultimately did nothing. After a moment, she felt a sense of… finality, and then he pulled back. Lyanna rose from her place in bed, staring at a seemingly random wall, though in actuality it was not random at all. She considered what she'd felt, contemplated what it could mean. Eventually, she settled on something she thought might make sense concerning the Night King's intentions.

His message, if it could even be called that, might have meant he was coming for her. If that was the case, Lyanna suddenly had the advantage. If the Night King led his walkers to the Wall to hunt and capture her, she could make this his final resting place. The Night's Watch would even be doing their duty, defending the Wall from the monsters of the Long Night. With the Wall's fortifications and the amount of dragonglass they had… the Night King's death had gone from a mere chance to a certainty, if he actually came this far south.

Lyanna Stark's mouth curled into a bigger and bigger smile as she grew more and more convinced that this was what was going to happen. The Night King would come to the Wall searching for her. And together, they would both die atop this frozen barrier. She would never again lay eyes upon Winterfell… but at least she could make sure her home never faced the likes of him again.

-x-X-x-

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