51

Chapter 51: Ch 42 The Better Warg

Chapter Text

THE BAY OF ICE... it wasn't exactly what it sounded like.

This expansive bay hugged the northwestern coast of Westeros, flanked by the imposing Northern Mountains to the east and bounded by the Wolfswood and the Sea Dragon Point to the south. Bear Island occupied a significant portion of the bay, but it was only at its northernmost tip, where it brushed against the frigid shores of the True North, that it earned its ominous reputation. Sailors who ventured here quickly understood the treacherous nature of this icy expanse.

Five Ironborn longships, their sails bearing the colours of the North, elegantly sailed through these frigid waters toward their ultimate destination—the True North. The sea was littered with icebergs of varying shapes and sizes; some were mere fragments, while others resembled colossal mountains, dwarfing even the largest of ships.

Navigating through this perilous maze required utmost caution. These frozen monoliths concealed much of their bulk beneath the surface, luring unsuspecting vessels to a watery grave. But these five ships were sailing through the last part of their trip towards the true North quite easily as they seemed to not be afraid of the icebergs at all, and they Navigated amidst the chunks as if they had a ready-made map of this place.

Any other seafarer would have already furled their sails, proceeding with extreme caution, calculating every move to avoid deadly collisions. These five vessels, though laden with cargo, maintained their full speed without fear. The reason behind their confidence was no surprise, considering the man at their helm.

"I am telling you, Jon. You're doing an absolutely stupid thing here," Val warned Jon with an anxious look on her face but Jon who was standing at the bow of the ship in front of her, didn't seem to be taking her seriously as he leisurely looked at the passing scenery without a care in the world.

Both of them were wearing their winter clothes; Jon was in customary black attire with an additional brown jacket made of bear pelt and leather gloves while Val was wearing her own wildling clothes that had somehow survived until now and were as good as new after having been washed and cleaned once, making her once again look like a real wildling.

"Hmm... What are you talking about?" Jon asked off-handedly.

"Are ye deliberately being dumb? I am obviously talking about this—This!" she exclaimed while waving her hand through the empty air encompassing the desolate decks of all the ships, "These nearly empty ships with only a handful of sailors, this is the force you're taking for a trade with the Free Folk…"

Jon had deliberately kept the crew to a bare minimum—just five sailors per ship—selecting only the most loyal, those with little animosity towards the Wildlings, and those who could maintain their silence. The only reason he could even get away with sailing with so little crew was that Bear Island was one of the closest places to the true North.

"If you go to them with this little protection— then they are going to eat you up, chew you out, and not even let out a burp—Stop Smirking! You bastard!" Val cursed frustratedly when she saw him smiling and not taking her seriously at all. She knew that getting angry wouldn't get her anywhere so she took a deep breath and tried once more a bit calmly, "I know that you're not that stupid... so you must have some kind of a secret plan, and I just want to know—"

"Oh!" Jon suddenly exclaimed and interrupted her while turning his attention towards the sky with a curious look on his face, "It looks like the welcoming party is already here..."

"Welcoming party? What—" Val asked in a confused tone while turning around before she caught sight of a small eagle flying high up above in front of the ship, looking at the ship with a look that was too curious for a bird. "That's not one yours, is it?"

"No, it's not mine," Jon replied, a sly smile gracing his features. "Since they've gone to the trouble of preparing a welcome for us, I'd hate to be impolite and not reciprocate."

Jon's cunning grin sent a shiver down Val's spine, and she silently pitied the Wildling who had earned Jon's displeasure.

...

On the other side, a few minutes from the Frozen Shore's coast stood deserted houses constructed from wood and stone. These homes once belonged to the Frozen Clans, who lived here before joining Mance's army. However, these dwellings were no longer empty; they had been claimed by the Warband led by the Weeper, plus an unexpected guest.

A peculiar group had congregated around the largest house in the village's centre. A massive snow bear rested outside, accompanied by three small wolves and a Shadowcat. Gathered around them, outside the house's entrance, were the wildling men from the Weeper's Warband, with the Weeper himself at the forefront. They all gazed inside the house at a small, bald, grey-faced man with wide-open eyes, eyes that were completely white and his consciousness was far away inside the eagle at the moment.

The instant he spotted ships through the eagle's eyes, he severed the connection and summoned the Weeper before returning to the eagle to check on the ships and report exactly when they would reach their ambush site.

After taking note of every single detail, Varamyr was just about to leave the eagle's mind when he suddenly caught sight of the most beautiful wildling he had ever seen on one of the leading ships. He recognized her instantly, having heard tales of her beauty and how she became lost south of the Wall during a raid.

He decided then and there that she would be part of his reward, in addition to the ship Weeper had promised him, as it would be pleasant to have some company when he decided to head south to the warmer climates.

As he was admiring his prize, it took him a while to notice the man conversing with Wildling Val and the moment he looked into the man's eyes he was almost scared to death as the Man was staring right back at him as if he knew that Varamyr was inside the eagle.

At that moment he immediately realised that he was the warg that Mance had seen south of the wall. The man said something to Val beside him before he suddenly gave him a sinister smile that sent alarms ringing inside Varamyr's mind but before he could do anything about it something huge slammed into him from above *BAM!* taking all the air out of his lungs, making the eagle scream in agony.

"SQUEAAAAAK!!!!"

Huge claws suddenly appeared out of nowhere and snapped his spine in two sending an unimaginable pain directly into his mind. Thankfully the neck was snapped next and the eagle died before Varamyr could go insane from the pain and he was snapped out of the eagle's mind.

...

Back inside the house, all the wildlings had backed from the warg who had suddenly started screaming out of nowhere with his eyes rolled back. The man was shivering and thrashing around on the ground like an insane lunatic. His pets were equally agitated, growling anxiously around him.

"Is he dyin'?" inquired a thick, blond-haired man, known for his weeping eyes, the Weeper, who stood there with a massive, curved steel scythe and a curious expression.

"Don't think so," answered one of his men hesitantly. He attempted to check on the warg but was driven away by the growling animals.

The warg's open eyes suddenly regained their pupils at that moment as he became aware of his surroundings and stopped screaming himself hoarse. With his body still twitching, and his head screaming from pain, Varamyr wasn't doing so well at the moment.

"Are they here? Are the ships here?" Weeper asked impatiently, showing little concern for the struggling warg's well-being.

"Yes," Varamyr answered hoarsely as he slowly stood up trying to regain control of his body, "Yes, the ships are on their way not that far from here...

"Good! That means we can't waste any more time—"

"Wait! I-I want the warg from the South as my reward... and I want him alive... that bastard somehow killed one of my pets... I want to roast that cunt alive... I want to torture him within an inch of his life..." he said hatefully gritting his teeth, "He will cry and beg for death but I won't give him that until I make him regret—"

"Yes! Yes! You can have him," Weeper interrupted the warg's monologue impatiently, "Now show me where the ships are..."

...

"They'll come through here in a few moments," Varamyr said while pointing towards a narrow strip of water, between the shore and a huge mountainous iceberg, that was the only way for the ship to pass through to reach true North.

They were all hiding behind a small snow-capped hill near the shore from where they got a good vantage point towards anything that was coming towards them, this natural barrier was one of their trump cards that was going to be useful in capturing the southern ships said to be laden with rich goods.

"That is good," Weeper smirked, already thinking about what he would do with all the riches he would loot from those soft Southerners, "Listen good, you fuckers, the moment the ships start passing through that area we are immediately going to run and jump abroad the ships and seize control... We'll kill all those soft-cocked fuckers from the south and take all their food and drinks... and then we feast TONIGHT!!"

"AYE!!!"

All 40 wildlings belonging to the Weeper's warband screamed while banging their weapons in the air. They had six archers among them, while the rest carried spears and a few bronze swords. Only Weeper bore a steel scythe.

"Remember my reward," Varamyr reminded Weeper from his seat on the female bear's shoulder. "And I want that girl as well along with the bastard and the ship..."

Weeper wanted to gut the shit right there and be done with it now that he had outlived his usefulness but he reconsidered when he saw the bear, wolves and the Shadowcat surrounding the warg, who were watching him vigilantly.

"They are here!" The lookout suddenly shouted from atop the snowy hill while pointing towards something on the other side.

The wildlings excitedly climbed the hill and sure enough, there in the distance they were able to see five big ships slowly coming towards them. All of them started breathing heavily at seeing the wooden boxes placed on the deck of the ships that were probably filled with all kinds of exotic food from the South.

"Wait! Let them come closer," Weeper said, stopping some of his over-eager clansmen as the ship came closer to the ambush site.

And then, out of nowhere...

One moment all of them were waiting for the signal to attack and in the next moment an arrow suddenly pierced the eye of one of the archers, sending the wildlings into disarray.

"Fuck! Where did that come from?"

"How can the fucker see us?" "We are hiding behind a hill! It's impossible!"

The one thing Wildling knew better than anything else was how to ambush and they also knew that you need to cut your losses and run once your ambush fails. Two more archers fell to arrows while the wildlings bickered, further intensifying the chaos.

"You bastards! don't forget, he's a Warg!"

"That's not how warging works—a warg has to leave his body so he can't shoot arrows..." Varamyr attempted to explain, but no one paid him any heed. The wildlings hesitated between attacking and fleeing. At that moment, Varamyr was hiding down under the female bear using her as a shield to hide from the arrows as he knew that it was futile to run with his weak body.

"Don't panic!" Weeper yelled at the wildings, "We can still attack—" but before he could try to calm them down another tragedy stuck them. One of the wolves suddenly howled loudly, broke free from Varamyr and started attacking the archers.

"What the—" "Warg! Control your beast AHH—"

And soon after the other wolves followed the first one and not long after went the Shadowcat, all of them suddenly turning on the wildlings and feasting on their flesh.

"What the fuck! Warg! What are you doing?" Weeper screamed.

"It's not me," Varamyr cried, feeling another connection break in his mind "It's the enemy warg! He is controlling my animals—Ahhh!!"

At last, seeing the pandemonium around him, Weeper knew that the ambush this time had failed and immediately decided to run away, "Retreat! RETREAT!!" he screamed while backing away and trying to save as many of the warbands as he could from the arrows and the feral animals.

Varamyr had fallen down from the bear's back during the sudden rebellion of the animals under his control. Everything was blurry and his head was hurting from all the broken connection when he suddenly felt hot air behind his ear and his body suddenly froze up.

He slowly turned around his head to find the female bear growling at him from an arm's distance away and, he wasn't able to find a single trace of compassion in those massive eyes instead her cruel red eyes were filled with hate, hate that spoke of years of slavery and suppressed cruelty that she'd endured.

"W-Wait! Don't! I Am Your Master! OBEY ME!" Varamyr screamed incoherently as he stumbled backwards, his eyes turning white intermittently as he tried to regain control over the beast but it was futile as he was rebuffed again and again due to an additional sphere of protection around the beast's mind that he was sure was the work of the warg from the South.

"ROAR!!!!—"

The bear already very irritated at the puny two-legged turned even more angry at the repeated attempts to control her so she released all her anger and slammed her massive paws down on the little human head, "No! Sto—" and splattered the head in one shot over the snowy grounds.

Varamyr was even denied the chance to a second life that he had envisioned previously as all of his wargs were denied to him giving him a true death