13 Ravens

Ice gripped his beard. What had once been barely a few mismanaged brown hairs gripping his chin was now all around his chin, cheeks and jaw.

The temperature had dropped in the north. He could see why it was called a false spring. Every wave that hit the longship chilled him and his crew to the bone.

The wind bit at his flesh. Gritting his teeth, Cregan stood up in the longboat and starred at the horizon.

The isle of Skagos stood before him, the high mountains, the black currently dying forests and ice.

It been three months since he'd seen the isle. Originally the plan was simple. Get the authority to change Skagos for the better.

How did things get so out of hand?

He starred at that ever approaching island, at his land.

"My lord, please sit down. The waves will only get worse the closer we get." Asked one of the boat's crew.

"Sure." Cregan replied bluntly, not taking his eyes off of the island. The boat rocked and swayed as the approached the cove of Kingshouse, it's black sands and the sharp rocks.

Watching their approach on the sands was a tall woman with a babe in her hands, a few men at arms and a sullen teenage boy.

The boat ground upon the sand, and with his hand on Leviathan's hilt Cregan stepped over the bow of the boat as the rest of his crew stepped over the sides.

"Sister!" Said Cregan, taking his hand off Leviathan and smiling.

"My lord brother." She said tiredly,as her babe gurgled in her arms, wrapped very tightly in furs.

"Little Jorramun looks well." Said Cregan with a smile. He held up a finger to his baby nephew's face. The Babe didn't care, closing his eyes and softly breathing and gurgling.

"May we talk in private my lord?" Asked Orlia.

"Let's get out of this cold." Said Cregan with a nod. They began to make their way away from the beached ship and up the hills towards the hall of Kingshouse.

Cregan spared a glance to the dark cloudy sky, then returned to trying to make his way up the hill.

___________________________

"I did not think you would start a war." Said Orlia, once they were alone in Cregan's old bedroom, now office, in the caverns beneath the great hall of Kingshouse.

"I didn't try to." Cregan replied honestly.

"The very first Raven Kingshouse has received in over 600 years is the declaration that we are to hand you over to the king." Said Orlia. "How badly did you fuck up?"

"I helped kill a Kingsguard, indirectly killed Lord Stark's daughter. It was an interesting few months." said Cregan. His smile was wry, but hollow, his eyes ringed with shadows.

"By the gods..." Mumbled Orlia. "You were supposed to just get named High Lord. Maybe get a few resources to help Skagos... Not this."

"Worse, I never got the money I got on the tourney back. We had to leave Harrenhal rather bloody quickly." Cregan admitted.

"That's twenty fucking dragons!" Shouted Orlia.

"We'll make it back." Said Cregan simply.

"How Cregan! We are going into war!" Said Orlia. "I don't know if you know this brother but wars cost money."

"It's winter Orlia. None of the men I will be bringing with me to war would've been making us much money anyway. We are stoneborn, not mainlanders. We need little money until the war ends, and I shall ensure our loyalty will be rewarded." Said Cregan.

"I hope you are as sure as you pretend to be Cregan." Said Orlia.

The two stood in contemplative and worried silence for a few seconds.

"How's things been here?" Asked Cregan.

"Not bad. Torrhen Whaleborne's colony on Skane is going well, Orston hasn't acted up yet. The fishing boats have ensured we should survive this coldspell without any... unpleasantness." Orlia replied. "Hugo Stane might be chafing under the rule of his father in Driftwood. Things might fall apart when Grandfather dies."

"How's mother?" Asked Cregan.

"Right... mother..." Orlia began.

That can't be good.

"What happened?" asked Cregan.

"She's pregnant." Orlia replied.

Cregan's eyes widened.

"Father has been dead for five moons. It isn't his is it?" Asked Cregan as he ran a hand through his hair.

"No. She hasn't admitted the father, but it is a bastard." said Orlia.

"Right. Well, at least it's a Stane Bastard, not a Magnar." Said Cregan. "Where is she? I expected to see her here."

"She's returned to Driftwood hall on Skathorn." Orlia replied. "I know not if the whelp was conceived here or there."

"That's our sibling Orlia, true-born or not." Cregan reprimanded. "He or she will be no threat to the Stane's, there's enough heirs to Driftwood hall."

Cregan briefly thought on that. Succession for Driftwood hall was fairly simple. It went Varymyr Stane, his as yet unnamed Son, Hugo Stane, then Val, then Cregan himself, then Jorramun Magnar, then Orlia, then little Walda, then Theon Crowl, and finally Orston Crowl.

The fact that all these families were deeply related to each other was only going to cause a massive succession crisis someday. Cregan needed to marry outside of Skagos, or his children would be fighting his nephews for control of Kingshouse.

"So..." Cregan began.

"Cregan. What the hell is going on?" Asked Orlia.

"What do you mean?" Asked Cregan.

"Our dad died five months ago. Before that you were... well, you weren't really anything. A boy scarred of water, content to sit in his room and simply exist, one day sure that you'd maybe rule Kingshouse and get into one or two scraps with the Crowls or Stanes." Orlia said. "You were never going to rock the boat. Instead you've done... All this."

Cregan slumped into his chair, turning his head briefly to the fire. It crackled, the word "truth" sounding form those cinders.

"You've no idea how right you are..." Cregan said darkly, closing his eyes and clenching and unclenching his fist for a few seconds before opening his eyes and turning his gaze back to his sister.

"All right Orlia. The truth." Said Cregan. "I have to tell someone after all."

Cregan stood up and reached under his driftwood desk, taking a bottle of strong mead out from a alcove hidden in the desk and taking off it's top. Cregan reached for the tankard he had hidden under there, then shrugged and simply knocked back the bottle. The sweat drink loosened his tongue.

"The day father died I had... Dreams. Dreams of a past life, of the last time... Last time?" Cregan asked to himself. He shook his head.

"I dreamt of Skagos. Of great ships littering it's bay, of steel and short men. Of fire and blood. I saw the wars yet to come." Said Cregan.

"You saw the future?" Asked Orlia, sitting down in the white driftwood chair opposite Cregan.

"Perhaps. More of a memory, or a memory of a memory." Said Cregan. "I held two ideas of a future. One without me, one with me."

"Really?" Orlia asked sceptically, her light brown eyebrow raised.

Cregan shook his bottle of mead and his sister took it from his hand, knocking it back like a champ.

Alcoholism seemed to run through the Magnar's veins like blood Cregan supposed.

"Yeah. I saw a vision of Skagos in seventeen years time. I saw a massive fleet of Whalers, dromonds, ships from all across the north, as we prepared to go to the war in the south." Cregan explained.

"So you had a dream. Lots of people have dreams." Orlia dismissed.

Cregan glanced upwards. Even inside he could feel the oppression of the stars, and the gaze of the moon.

"Well, that's the thing. You mentioned that I'd changed since Father's death?" asked Cregan. His older sister nodded.

"Do you also remember that after he died I had an entire day of seizures and screaming?" Asked Cregan.

Slowly, Orlia nodded again.

"I, that is Cregan Magnar, got my body seized by some distant soul. A soul from another world." Cregan explained.

"Right." Orlia scoffed.

"You think I'm talking madness?" Asked Cregan.

"Obviously. You've already unified Skagos under your rule, you needn't come up with this bullshit to justify it." Orlia said, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back in her chair.

"I suppose I can't prove it." Said Cregan with a shrug. "My knowledge of the future has probably been absolutely destroyed by my own actions. But why do you think I can swim nowadays?"

Orlia paused for a second.

"You remember that I almost drowned nine years ago? And how I refused to go anywhere near the coast for years?" Asked Cregan. "Why do you think I could swim again?"

Orlia leaned in slightly.

"Why do you think a mediocre swordsmen, barely literate unambitious child decided to unite Skagos beneath him?" Cregan asked. "I am not the same Cregan."

"There's got to be more proof then you coming over your fear brother." Said Orlia hesitantly.

Cregan bit out a harsh laugh, snatching the mead back from his sister.

"I'm afraid not. My name, my face, even the words I speak. All of those are gone to me. There's more Cregan Magnar in me than... Whoever I once was. But he... I am there all the same." The high lord of Skagos admitted, his tired eyes looking up briefly at the cave's roof.

"...Are you telling the truth Creg?" Asked Orlia.

Cregan turned his gaze to his older sister.

"If I can't tell you the truth who can I tell?" Asked Cregan. "There is just you, Jorramun, mother and Walda left. That is my family now, for good or ill."

"All right... I don't entirely believe this madness... But I'll accept that you have changed. Perhaps the old gods sought to make Skagos great." Orlia said as she leaned back slightly in the driftwood chair.

Without thinking or being able to stop himself Cregan bitterly snorted.

Orlia simply rose an eyebrow, but her face gave away that there would be no arguing with her. He would have to explain that too.

"The old gods would never do something so benevolent." Cregan said.

Orlia gasped.

"Do not tell me your time in the south has..." she began.

Cregan shook his head, starring into the bottle of mead for a moment, searching for the answers within. Once he had sought the answers to equally uncomfortable questions in one such bottle. Perhaps it was the wrong place to look.

"No... Not the new gods. Just... I know the old gods better than most." Said Cregan.

"You claim to speak to gods now?" asked Orlia.

"I have been sent visions by them. I know others that have too." Cregan's mind fell on a short man wearing green, and his blank look turned to a snarl of fury.

Howland Reed will pay.

"And their intervention has only caused greater pain." Said the high lord of Skagos. He looked to a simple weirwood carving in his solar, shaped like a crude unicorn. His eyes fell upon it's own eyes, and he hoped to god the crow was watching him. Watching what he had caused.

"You're crazy." Orlia said bluntly.

Cregan shrugged.

___________________

Working out how to get the army of Skagos to the mainland had been an arduous task. It was quite impossible. Skagos didn't have the naval power. The various minor families and clans were fearful of even stepping outside the caverns and caves across the isle with this rebirth of winter. Cregan could very well demand the men from them, he had a loyal retinue to enforce this, but even if he gathered the levies he had nothing to get them across to Westeros proper.

A letter had been sent to Bravos at least, offering terms and confirming the hiring of the Company of the Rose. They would land in White Harbour in two months. That would likely have to to do as Cregan's army. Rickard wouldn't be pleased that his force would be one being paid for by him, but unless Cregan could built a fleet in a week it simply wasn't viable to bring the Skagosi to Westeros.

Why could this war not happen as it's supposed to? Cregan thought to himself, not for the first time.

His eyes began to flutter. Half a hundred letters, some attempt to work out what financial assets Skagos had now, reading up on how much food the isle had left. If Winter was going to get worse the seas may get too dangerous for the light Longships to continue to fish and lobster catch. Food was going to get scarce. He had waved away the loss of money at the tourney, but it was dire news for Skagos. There was now no way they could buy food from Essos. The wildlings meant there were more mouths to feed, and Skane had yet to have real shelters against the blizzards and snowfall. With the full brunt of the shivering sea's winds hitting the isle once more, Skagos was quickly becoming uninhabitable.

Worst, news was not getting to Skagos. There had been no ravens from the North and Stormlands to say if a battle had even occurred in this very different war. News Cregan desperately needed. So far his future knowledge had been his strength. Knowing of people and events before he meet them or they happened. But for the first time since he had unified Skagos Cregan was truly lost. He refused food, which for now was a few lobsters and small fish. Skagos had used up most of the vegetables it had grown over the summer. Before long the lobsters and fish would dry up too. Then it'd be unicorn flesh. Then... Well. It may get worse.

If Theon was going to stage his revolt it would be soon. Alone, there was little chance of success. But if he could get the other lords on his side Theon was a very real threat. Orston was secure, and had been given rooms right at the bottom of the cave network beneath Kingshouse. For warmth, and in honesty to ensure he couldn't escape. Orston was the last defence against the Crowl lord.

Walda had been safely sent off to Winterfell, but Cregan hadn't seen her since he left the isle three months ago. Worse, he hadn't told her she was to be married off.

These thought and fears were keeping him from falling asleep. His room on the surface was too far from his office for him to walk now, and it was warmer beneath the earth.

Cregan leaned back in his chair and ran his hand down his face. He needed information. There was perhaps one way to get it. He theorised that he had... Visions. It wouldn't be surprising. He thought himself a fairly low ranking and unimportant lord but he was someone with the memories of an entirely different world. For some reason he was at least a bit special.

And it was this idea in mind that made him grip the weirwood unicorn. Sleep would find him soon enough.

Still, there was a little work to do. With one hand gripped around the small figure he used the other to write a letter.

Lord Varys of Lys

I shall be delivering this letter via your network. Hopefully I should find some birds of yours when I next return to White Harbour or Winterfell.

We both have dreams of forging a dragon from oily black stone, and perhaps we can help one another.

Cregan threw the letter into the fire. No. He would not work with the eunuch.

He grabbed another small sheet of Velum. He was going to run out of the stuff soon enough. He dabbed his goose feather quill in a pot of ink and began to forge another letter.

Lord Jeor Mormont

For years the people of Skagos have been divided from the rest of the North. I have made strides to change this, but things cannot be completed until I have married into the great kingdom.

Internally Cregan was disgusted with himself. He was not attracted to the young Mormont girl. He had hoped he might simply marry a pretty girl from the mainland that was his age or older. But Cregan did need allies, and even one of the smallest houses in the North was a great thing for a Skagosi.

Cregan's hand stayed however. He couldn't think of what to say. That his niece was a great beauty? That he was taken by her strong attitude?

That at least was somewhat true. He didn't want a meek woman, mostly because they'd loathe Skagos. Something Jorah should keep in mind going forward.

The high lord of Skagos dried off the quill. He would not write the letter tonight. He couldn't even send it in this snowstorm anyway.

Cregan slumped forward, placing his head on the desk, nestling it in his arms, still gripping the weirwood unicorn. As important as alliances of marriage were, there was perhaps a far more important conversation Cregan needed to have. One he could have there and then, even as he was alone in his cavern.

Slowly, over the course of a few minutes, as the candle and torches began to die down, his eyes began to close. He closed them for a second, and immediately opened them.

Rather than his cavern, Cregan was stood in a familiar grove. All around him was a great forest fire consuming leaf and bark and tree. Unlike last time he was here there was no host of Unicorn riders or spear wielding men. Only three weirwoods, each starring at him.

"I've come to talk." Cregan said bluntly. His hand reached for Leviathan, but before he could place the sword in his grasp it melted away, only salt water falling between his fingers.

The weirwoods continued to stare. One had the face of a young child being consumed by flame. The other, an old face with one eye. The last... A woman, though her face was somehow brightly burning, even though it was simple wood.

"I have been waiting for you... Magnar." Said a old voice. Cregan turned around. Flying out of the burning forest a white raven rushed towards him. Cregan stepped back, and the bird landed on a branch of the weirwood tree with the old face carved into it.

"Brynden Rivers." Said Cregan bluntly. He would not honour him with a false name.

"Should I call you by your 'true name' Magnar?" Asked the white raven.

"Do you even know it?" Asked Cregan.

"I brought you here did I not?" the raven asked.

"Somehow I doubt it. That's too simple." Cregan replied.

"You are correct. I most certainly am not responsible for you being here." Said the Raven. "But the how and why are not important."

"I disagree." The Skagosi said bluntly. "The How and Why are perhaps all that matters."

"You can search for such answers your entire life. You will never find them." Said the raven.

"The search is as important as the answer. Unlike most I know there is an answer." Cregan said, stepping in a circle around the raven. It was content to simply watch him, it's one red eye firmly on Cregan's face.

"Is there? You believe that because you are here that there is some greater purpose at work? That seems unlikely." said the Raven.

"There might be." Said Cregan.

"What if all souls travel as yours has? How could you know?" Asked the Raven. "We only know our own mind. Well, most of us do."

"Enough." Growled Cregan. "Why am I here?"

"Because you are gripping a weirwood and wanted to talk to me." The Raven replied simply.

"You know that isn't what I mean." Snapped Cregan. "Why am I here. On Skagos? In Westeros?"

The Raven looked to the sky, and for a brief moment Cregan followed it's gaze. This time there was no great interplay of light and shadow. No Aurora. The sky was dark, devoid of stars.

"Perhaps not devoid of them." The Raven said, turning to Cregan. "Perhaps the sky is filled with Black stars instead."

"No. You know why I am here. I have been brought here from my world to come here." Said Cregan.

The Raven cawed, sounding almost like a bitter human laugh.

"It was not such an immediate trip I believe. You probably remembered more last time." Said the Raven.

Cregan's eyebrow rose.

"Why... why do I call the original timeline last time? I can't help it, but ever since I arrived I have called it "Last time"." Said Cregan.

"Do you remember that dream? The first one?" asked the Raven.

Cregan thought back. He had been the high lord of Skagos. For some reason his fief and city was called Kingsdown. Perhaps it had been a vision of the future.

"That. I saw it too. The great rush of Memories. Of the Ibbenese and war, of striding towards Dawn and heading south. When you arrived you shared a few with those that were looking. I fear that Black stars may well have been shining at the same time too." Said the Raven.

"I saw the future." Said Cregan simply.

The Raven cawed, then spoke.

"How likely is that future? Isn't it strange how similar it is to the original... To last time?" asked the Raven.

"What do you..." Cregan began.

"Eddard stuck in Kings Landing? A boy Lord named Robb? Where was the currently living Brandon? Where was Rhaegar? You have changed things beyond this possibility." Said the Raven.

"What are you saying?" asked Cregan, though he already feared the answer.

"You call it last time because it was the last time. You failed." Said the Raven. "And you have come again. There is less of you in Cregan this time. More of the boy then the man. Things have changed because of this."

"That dream you had, right at the start of your new life, was not a vision of the future. It was a memory of your past." Said the Raven. "Time is a flat circle."

Cregan stepped back, as if struck.

"Last time you were here, things were different, and they were the same. You were a lot less bold last time. More content to let things play out as they were." the Raven explained. "The part of you named Cregan has undone this. Things could not possibly play out so similarly to last time."

"...how could I fail? This story, when it ends, has a bitter-sweet ending. Mankind eventually prevails over the threat coming from your friends." Said Cregan resolutely.

"My friend? I see you are distrustful of the old gods." Said the Raven.

"Should I not be? Your damned visions killed Lyanna!" The Skagosi shouted.

"You killed her." The raven said.

Cregan stepped back.

"No.. You made her joust. You told Howland to..."

"But that happened last time didn't it? She survived last time." Said the raven.

"Only to be raped by Rhaegar and die in childbirth. What a great fate." Snarled Cregan.

"And least that time she didn't die so early as to start a war you cannot win." Said the Raven.

Cregan took a few deep breaths to calm himself.

"How could I have killed her? I tried to..."

"You gave her that unicorn. Made her unready to ride a normal horse. Her blood is on your hands Magnar." Said the raven.

Cregan sighed.

"But I am here because of the old gods? Surely only they are responsible for my being here? I mean, I am talking with you, I have green visions. Surely it is the Children of the forest that..."

"I do not know why you are here Magnar. Something else is responsible for that I'm afraid. It may not even be a something. I don't think there is some great omnipotent being that decided to bring a person from another world here for some stupid reason. There are forces at work here, not individual ideas and plots." The Raven said.

"...Did you send Howland to try and get Lyanna to joust for him?" Asked Cregan.

"Yes." Said the raven.

"... Did you want Rhaegar to rape her?" Asked Cregan.

"Yes." Said the Raven. Cregan grew furious.

"Did you know she'd die in that tower!" He shouted.

"Yes." Said the Raven. "But now that is all changed. She will not be born."

Cregan's anger left him, only to be replaced by confusion.

"She? Lyanna gives birth to a girl?" Asked Cregan.

"The boy will be born with stars. But the girl who births fire is no longer." Said the Raven. "This time... this time may well be doomed to."

"Lyanna is the mother of Daenerys?" Asked Cregan gobsmacked.

"Would of... could have been. Could have been." The Raven pointed out. "Now? There will be no dragons. All will fall to the cold. To entropy, and inevitable and unending decay."

Cregan tried to push down the thousand questions and fears this brought up, and focused on only one.

"Don't they want that? The children?" Asked Cregan.

"Who knows?" Asked the Raven.

"You should!" Cregan shouted. "You live with them! They are your puppet master!"

"Are they? They are old. A dying people." Said the Raven. "Too far gone for any chance to return. And revenge? What is the point. None live who would see the fruits of such labour."

"Revenge is never so logical." Said Cregan. "But we want it all the same."

"I am not the enemy Magnar. Work with me. There no chance this time, you have doomed this lifetime. So end it. Kill yourself and be born anew. I will ensure that things carry on as they are supposed to. I cannot remove you, but if you do as you are supposed to things will go as they are supposed to."

The man who wasn't Cregan thought on this for a few seconds. The Raven had said as much, he had doomed the world. There would be no prince who was promised anymore. No three heads of the dragon. Azor Ahai, the lone protector of mankind would never be...

"No." Said the man who was Cregan. "No. It isn't that simple. We needn't find our savour. We can create our own."

"With what?" The Raven was shouting now. "The chance is gone! Black Stars will cover the sky, Stone will grip the living and Crows will feast on the dead. There is no hope this time!"

"Why should I trust you? If continuing on the same path failed last time, why should it succeed next time?" Asked Cregan. "You admitted yourself, prophecy failed."

"That... that was your intervention. If only you did..." Said Bloodraven.

"If only? If, could be? What kind of Prophecy relies on ifs and could-have-beens? Face it Brynden. There is no fate." Said Cregan.

"The prince who was promised will be born of the line of..." Said the Raven, perhaps to itself.

"The world is not that simple. Perhaps you have forgotten that. Hiding in a cave at the edge of the world, watching a world you no longer belong to?" Asked Cregan. "This song is not so simple."

"You dare..!" The Raven screamed.

"I dare." Cregan interrupted. "I don't give a shit about your prophesied heroes and what you want Brynden."

"I don't care if I am here because of some omnipotent being or because this is some shitty afterlife or if I am simply a dream. I am here, I will sleep in the bed I have made." The High lord of Skagos said resolutely.

"You will inflict untold suffering on yourself and others because of some dumb sense of Pride?" asked the Raven.

"To live is to suffer." Said Cregan. "To survive? To continue? Is to find meaning in that suffering."

"You will devour your children." The Raven said coldly. "You will suffer unlike any other. You will live to see the world you build crumble into nothing. Your friends and people will die. All because you refuse to take the only option that is yours."

"To restart again?" Asked Cregan.

"Only by your own hand can you restart. Otherwise? You will devour your young to survive." Said the Raven. "You would kill your unborn children?"

"No. I will not do it." Said Cregan.

"Nothing you know of the future is correct anymore." Said the Raven, perhaps as a last chance at convincing him. "You cannot say for sure what the future holds."

"Good. It wasn't a good one anyway." Said Cregan. He reached to the small of his back and from nowhere grabbed his weirwood unicorn figure.

"I will stop you." Said Brynden.

"You may try." Said Cregan.

And with that, He threw the figure into the fire around him.

He flinched awake, snorting as he did so. Slowly he brought his head up, off of a barely written letter. Cregan reached for the bottle of mead still sitting on the table, then starred at it for a few seconds. He withdrew his hand.

_________________________________________________________

The blizzard was harsh now. The waves crashed against the black sand with a fierce intensity. There were twelve longboats on the beach, the entire Skagosi navy. Aboard them would be Himself, Theon Crowl, Varymyr and Hugo Stane, Gareth Whaleborne and 50 unicorn mounted cavalry men. That was the might of Skagos. They had a fair amount of the stored food that remained on Skagos. It was going to be a harsh winter after all.

Snow and ice covered Cregan like a cloak. His Shadowcat fur coat kept the worst of the ice from him, but he could barely stop himself from shivering. The Unicorns were behaving for now, tied down to the boats, their maws covered to stop them from biting the ropes and breaking free.

"I hope you know what you are doing Lord Magnar." Said Theon bitterly, before he walked away and began to embark his boat.

"I hope so too." Cregan whispered to himself. He spared a glance behind him. It was too cold now for the babe to leave the Caverns, and Orlia would not leave her side. With all the boats of Skagos with him his mother had remained in Driftwood hall, where she would likely give birth to her bastard.

Walda was away, heading towards Winterfell. Once again, Cregan was alone. This time, he was heading not to make peace, but to war.

If he didn't come back... Skagos would remain this frozen dying place. Perhaps even if he did. Nothing was certain.

Perhaps I should? Begin again?

His hand briefly fell upon Leviathan.

No. You sleep in the bed you have made. You deal with the consequences of your actions. The future is yours to deal with.

There is no why for you being here. No purpose. I will not 'discover' that answer. I am here. That is all that matters.

With a heavy heart, Cregan made his way to the boats on the shore, and climbed aboard. He stroked Hephaestion, who tried to bite at him even behind it's leather mask.

Cregan glanced up. The clouds covered the sky entirely, hiding the Northern lights that Cregan knew were there.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

Fygorik of Kingshouse was stalking his prey. Hunting in these weather, whilst difficult, was more important then ever. The cold meant they needed to eat more whilst there was less to eat. Still, a single fox wasn't going to be enough. He tightened his grip on his dragonglass spear. The fox was uselessly sniffing the air. This wasn't Fygorik's first hunt, he knew to be downwind of it.

When the fox returned to trying to eat some frozen black animals on the ground, he got ready. When the fox went to blink some snowflakes from it's eyes Fygorik struck. He launched himself forwards, stabbing the fox right in it's stomach. The sickly smell of ruptured intestines filled the air. The fox whined it's final death sounds, before slumping to the ground, it's warm blood smoking in the cold air.

Fygorik stood up from his prone state, shaking the snow from his furs. He reached down to pick up the white fox, then he noticed what it had been eating.

A small black bird. A Raven, with something tied around it's leg. Fygorik picked up the raven from the ground, briefly looking into it's pitch black eyes. It looked like it died from the cold. He grabbed the thing tied around it's leg, showing a letter.

To all Lord of Westeros

I'm afraid to report the death of my beloved father, King...

Fygorik gripped the letter in his left whilst picking up both the raven and the fox. He couldn't read the strange letters. Better to just hand it in to Lady Magnar.