Chapter 16

"You're the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch."

It was more of an incredulous statement then a question, but the young man with his black cloak and furs answered Theon all the same.

"That I am, King Stark. It's an honor and a pleasure to have one such of you visit the Wall. Though last I'd heard, there were foreign invaders attacking Westeros. I'm surprised to find you here with an army at your back."

… The brat was wordy, that was for sure. Still, as much as the Hungry Wolf wanted to start in on the reason he was here, he just couldn't get past this.

"Where the hell is the old man? Or ANY of his Commanders? The First Ranger? The Master-at-Arms?!"

The extremely young Lord Commander bows his head in visible sadness.

"Dead, your Grace. One and all."

"How is that possible? How did they die, what killed them?"

"There was a ranging. Reports of a damn wildling city. We all went… only those around you made it back your Grace. The Night's Watch is much diminished."

Theon could see that. The Nightfort felt almost empty compared to the last time he'd been here as a child with his father. He knew from his father that the Night's Watch was in decline, but even then, the Nightfort had been home to thousands of brother's. Now it seemed to house barely a thousand, if that. Theon could only imagine how empty the rest of the Wall was at this point. Manned by barely anyone.

"… Wildlings destroyed the Watch's leadership and half its brothers and somehow YOU ended up as Lord Commander?!"

Even with the lack of crows around them, Theon could still see men older than this whelping. He could also see the boyish Lord Commander's jaw set at the insult. Oh, the Stark King almost wished that the younger man would make a move. He was dying to show this piss-ant why they called him the Hungry Wolf. Unfortunately, it seemed that it was not to be. The young Lord Commander bowed his head after a moment of glaring at Theon.

"It was the Lord Commander's last command King Stark. I was his steward. The Night's Watch follows me. They respect me."

Bold words and Theon is in just the right kind of mood to challenge that. Looking around at solemn faces beneath black cloaks, he spreads his arms wide and shouts to the assembled brothers of the Night's Watch.

"Is this true? Does this boy speak for you? If any man wishes to speak his mind about this child's worthiness or lack thereof, speak now!"

There's a pause and then a man steps out from the crowd.

"Aye, he's the Lord Commander."

Theon lifts a single brow at him.

"And why is that?"

The crow shrugs.

"He led those of us who survived the wildling ambush back to the Wall. Saved us."

Interesting. The boy had some degree of humility then, or he would have mentioned that when Theon was disparaging him. A moment later it's like an avalanche falls. Too many men, too far for Theon to count, step forward to call the young man their Lord Commander. Theon's eyes go a bit wide at the display of loyalty. He's not even sure the old man his father had introduced him to as a boy could have commanded this level of loyalty.

"ENOUGH!"

The Night's Watch quiets down as his voice rings out through the Nightfort's courtyard. Once they're all silent, he smiles slightly.

"That's enough. I find myself convinced."

Turning to the young Lord Commander, Theon nods his head to the boy. He can see that the younger man's hands are clenched into fists. It's to his credit that he hasn't given into his anger. Another point towards him.

"I accept that your appointment to the position of Lord Commander, as strange as it may be, is just. However, what I cannot accept is the Watch's dereliction of duty."

There's murmuring all around and surprise on the affirmed Lord Commander's face before his brow furrows in confusion.

"Dereliction your Grace? Please, explain if you would."

Theon's smile has no humor in it. It does not reach his eyes. In fact, as he speaks it's more like he's baring his teeth then grinning, his pearly whites grinding together as he glares at the boy before him, as if it's the young crow's fault that his sister is gone.

"Yes. A White Walker was seen South of the Wall. A White Walker stole my sister from Winterfell and fled this way. I imagine he's already made it passed you and your shitty fucking Wall. What's the point of this thing if it doesn't keep the monsters out?! What's the point of your bloody Watch?!"

The murmurs are louder now and the young Lord Commander looks stricken. Either he's an excellent actor, or he's truly as ashamed as he appears.

"I… it is not excuse King Stark, but we were greatly diminished by that last ranging. Still, the White Walkers have not been seen near the Wall in several, several centuries. Not since the traitor in our midst has there been a sighting. The Night's Watch has long fought wildlings and giants, but not White Walkers."

"… You're right, it is no excuse. Still, I have need of you and your men Lord Commander. You will join the army that I have camped outside the Nightfort. Together, we will range beyond the Wall. We will kill the wildlings and raise this city of theirs to the ground. Then, we will kill the White Walkers, retrieve my sister. The threats that lurk beyond the Wall will be ended, here and now. If the Wall will not stop them, dragonglass in their hearts will have to do."

The young Lord Commander looks like he wishes to argue for a moment as he mulls over Theon's words. In the end, he holds his tongue. Another point in the boy's favor. If he'd tried to pull some stupid neutrality shit when it came to THIS of all things, Theon would have taken his head from his shoulders right then and there and been done with it.

Seeing that there would be no challenge from the Night's Watch as to his plans, Theon blew out a breath and asked the next obvious question.

"In which direction must we range to find this wildling 'city' Lord Commander?"

Another pause, but the Lord Commander still answers.

"Northwest your Grace. Along the Milkwater."

-x-X-x-

It takes them weeks to get moving, mostly because the Wall was the meet up point for the whole of the North. Theon's army of tens of thousands of Northmen, led by the greatest show of force the much-diminished Night's Watch can still muster. Over half of them are armed with dragonglass weapons, while the rest wield conventional metals, such as bronze, or if they'd been with him since Andalos, iron.

Theon himself has a dragonglass dagger at his belt now. He will never be powerless or defenseless before a White Walker, ever again. He is angry, because of course he is, why wouldn't he be? He wished he'd never decided to bring Rickar back to these shores. If he could turn back time, he would leave the monster to rot in that foreign land.

Still, for whatever reason, the White Walker did not kill him or any of his men. More than that, Rickar's wights hadn't killed any of Winterfell's defenders either. It was a little confusing, to say the least. But Theon knew one thing for sure. Rickar had taken his sister and for that, the Hungry Wolf would follow the White Walker to the ends of the earth, as far north as he had to go.

Unfortunately, his army was till made of mortal men. They were not tireless and each night, they had to make camp in the frozen snow. They were Northmen, each and every one, but Beyond the Wall was colder even then the North. It would take some getting used to for all of them. Even Theon himself bundled up in furs in his tent as he tried to get some rest, eyes eventually drifting shut. The sun had long since set and he had a belly full of meat and wine. The way he saw it, he was one day closer to rescuing his sister.

When he woke up, hours later, it was to the feel of a heavy presence on his chest and soft lips against his own. For a moment, Theon Stark thought he was back in Winterfell with his beautiful pregnant Queen straddling his hips. He tried to move his hands too her waist, only to find them trapped in the furs that he'd bundled himself up in before going to bed.

The King in the North's eyes snap open and meet glowing, swirling blue. A beautiful, ethereal face stares back at him with a wicked little smile on its lips. A White Walker has him pinned down, her knees on either side of his body, holding his arms to him. As she pulls back from the kiss, Theon tries to shout, but she claps a blue hand over his mouth and lifts a finger to her own lips.

"Shhh. I've never had a King-Below-the-Wall before Theon Stark. Let's have some fun."

With one hand still covering his mouth, the other travels down his body and Theon's eyes widen as he realizes what she's about to do.

-x-X-x-

Ayla always gets annoyed when her father refers to her current hobbies as her "rebellious stage". He's either completely unaware of what she's been doing with the Free Folk these past few centuries, or he's actively insulting her work. The female White Walker figures it's probably a mix of both. Regardless, Ayla was never one for reading or for building things like Rickar or her father.

That didn't mean she wasn't going to take advantage of the fact that her father had essentially set up their family to be deities. She wasn't stupid by any means. Still, at first she truly had hoped that by living with the wildlings, she might very well find out what it was like to be 'stolen', carted off and taken by some big, strapping human male.

Unfortunately, they were too afraid of her and she'd had to adapt her plans. That had been over a thousand years ago though. Now, her adaptations had taken on a life of her own. Ayla didn't know for sure what her father knew about her and her people, but what she did know was that she'd built something beautiful. Ten thousand spearwives followed her into battle. Ten thousand Free Folk women dropped their work at a moment's notice and joined her in whatever she wished to accomplish, simply because she was their Goddess and she had cared for and nurtured them for generation after generation.

It'd started out fairly simple of course. Ayla hadn't been able to get a man to steal her. So, she'd stolen a man. When word got around the village about what she'd done, there'd been some concern and worry, but no condemnation given her status as a White Walker. So she'd done it again with a different unattached man. She was more the catch and release type. While she did have a bit of a harem, it was more a collection of men that trailed after her like lost puppies whenever they could find her, rather than a group she kept in one place for her pleasure.

Eventually, wildling women had come to Ayla about her whacky new wave of getting sex. That's when her current day army had begun, as young, proud women decided they'd rather steal men then have men steal them. And now here they were. They regularly performed 'raids' on Free Folk work camps in smaller numbers, but very rarely did Ayla gather all ten thousand spearwives together at once.

Then her brother had come back home and while it'd taken some doing to get the whole story from her mother, Ayla understood at least one thing. The Hungry Wolf she'd heard so much about had come north of the Wall, unknowingly right into her grasp. She was going to have herself a King if it was the last thing she did. His army was vast though and so Ayla had needed the whole of her own little 'army'.

Ten thousand Free Folk women went West after discovering where the Northmen were heading. Ten thousand Free Folk women struck in the dead of night and carted off their chosen, melting into the forest as if they were never there to begin with. Only Ayla stayed behind, but then her target had an actual tent and in the commotion, no one had come to talk to him. After all, her followers had targeted the chain of command and carried off every Lord there was to steal before anyone else.

Now here she was, straddling the broad-shouldered King in the North. He looked like an overgrown baby, swaddled up in his furs and sleeping peacefully. It amused Ayla to no end that he'd essentially trapped himself, prepared himself for her coming. With her knees on either side of him, the human could not move. She kissed him, running her hands down his chest. He awoke and she quickly kept him quiet, even as she told him and then showed him why exactly she was here.

-x-X-x-

He hadn't expected it to be warm. Out of everything he should have been thinking about in that moment, that was what Theon's mind latched onto. As the beautiful blue woman slowly slid down his exposed cock, enveloping him in her tightness, he was surprised that she wasn't freezing cold on the inside. Instead, she felt as good as any human woman he'd ever lain with. Hell, better eve- no! Theon had to remain strong! She was doing this to tempt him!

The King in the North's mouth went dry as he remembered the tales. The Night's King's name was struck from the histories, but his story was still told as a warning. Female White Walkers sucked out souls through sex and according to the lore, the Night's King had been a husk of himself by the time Theon's ancestor had arrived to end his terrible reign.

The White Walker was going to suck out his soul! Theon began to struggle much harder, screaming through the beautiful creature's hand, even as she rode his cock. Nobody came to his aid though and the White Walker was stronger than him, by far.

"Damn it Stark, I expected you to have a bit more balls. It's just sex. Where's the fucking Hungry Wolf, huh? Put some work into it, move your hips."

Much to his dismay, his body already seemed to be obeying her as he did indeed begin thrusting up into her unbelievably tight cunt. It was shameful, the fact that he was enjoying this more than he'd ever enjoyed bedding his wife. The woman was a meek young thing and theirs was not a marriage of love. Still, he'd made his vows before the heart tree! This was wrong! He could not take pleasure from this act!

And yet, every second he was getting closer and closer to release. Theon shuddered, horrified as he realized that perhaps this was the moment of no return. When he came inside the beautiful creature riding his cock, would he lose his soul? The trapped wolf king struggled to hold back his release. He squeezed his eyes shut so he would no longer see the ethereal beauty atop him and he tried to focus on anything but the wondrous pressure around his cock as her pussy muscles tightened and flexed along his shaft.

To no avail. All of it, to no avail. Theon came moments later, unable to stop himself. His seed filled the female White Walker and then she was pulling off of him. Yet, the Stark King felt no different. He tried to struggle free, only for the beautiful monster to place a palm on his chest, causing him to tense up and freeze in place as she smiled at him.

"No need to get up on my account my darling King. I'll see myself out."

And then she was leaving, her hips swaying as she walked right out the tent flaps as if she owned the place. Judging by the fact that he heard no one shout at her sudden appearance, she might as well have. Eyes wide, Theon struggled free of his furs and got to his feet, darting from the tent.

-x-X-x-

With the deed done and his seed extracted, the female White Walker was gone by the time Theon scrambled out of his tent, dragonglass dagger in hand and half-naked. His eyes wide and wild, the man looked around only to see mass panic and confusion. No wonder she'd simply walked away, his guards were nowhere to be seen and everyone was running to and fro like chickens with their heads cut off. Having had enough of this, Theon grabbed the first passing Northman he saw.

"You! Stop and tell me what is going on! I am your KING! Tell me what has happened!"

The man stops and swallows thickly.

"W-Wildling attack my King! T-They came in the night and were gone before any of us could react."

A diversion no doubt, but still no laughing matter. Theon did not dare mention what had happened to him or the White Walker who had been in his tent. He couldn't let one thing pass by though.

"Why did no one come wake me? How many have we lost? How many did we kill? Who is dead?!"

The Northman just stands there, eyes wide and mouth agape. He's not going to get anything from this man. To be fair, the truth turns out to be strange indeed.

-x-X-x-

Hours later, with the sun rising over the horizon and a cold, cold breeze wafting through the disheveled camp, Theon Stark stared down at the few wildlings they'd managed to kill or capture. Five Free Folk women lay dead, their eyes closed. Three more sat next to the bodies of their fallen comrades, faces sullen and hands tied behind their backs.

Apparently, every wildling that had come upon them in the night was a woman. And apparently, the only thing they'd been interested in was stealing men. Nearly ten thousand of Theon's men had been carted off, though oddly enough the crows were reporting no losses. Letting out a snarl, Theon drew the iron sword at his side and stomped over to one of the bound Free Folk women. He grabbed her by her wild untamed hair and dragged her to her feet.

She glared at him in defiance, even as he pulled the gag from her mouth. Her teeth snapped in his direction only once before he had the blade to her throat and she went still.

"Tell me what your kind did with my men wench."

"Fucked 'em."

The blithe reply came fast and caused a stir among the Northmen surrounding them. Theon growled and dug the blade in a bit deeper.

"And what the hell does that mean?"

Rather than be afraid, the woman looks like she thinks he's stupid.

"The fuck do you think it means kneeler?! We're spearwives! Here in the True North, we practice mate-stealing!"

Theon furrowed his brow in confusion.

"I thought it was called wife-stealing."

That gets a scoff from the wildling woman.

"You're behind the times kneeler. The Free Folk are equal opportunists now. And we can't very well steal wives from an army of Northern MEN, now can we?"

Theon is a bit taken back by her unassailable logic, but before he can recover himself and ask another question, there's a commotion on the far side of the camp. Growling yet again, the King in the North releases the wildling woman and turns in that direction.

"What the fuck is going on over there?!"

A young man, barely more than a boy, runs up to him, slightly out of breath.

"Y-Your Grace! It's the men! The missing men my King! They've come back! They've all come back!"

Shocked, Theon spun around on the bound woman he'd just dropped to the ground. She just smirked up at him.

"I didn't say we kept them, did I?"

In the end, it wasn't ALL of the men. It was most of them though and the story they all told was the same. They'd been grabbed by wildling women, carted off into the forest and… things had been done to them that they'd prefer not to talk about. Considering most of the men were wearing torn furs or no clothing at all, the exact circumstances of their capture was obvious.

Still, all reported one other thing as well. They were all released to go freely. Not a one of them had 'escaped'. And yet, Theon was still missing hundreds of men out of the ten thousand or so that had been taken in the night. Once again, the wildling woman made herself useful by giving yet another blithe, blunt answer.

"Those'll be the ones who decided to stay. We always give a choice, we Daughters of Ayla. The men who haven't come back, ain't coming back of their own free will."

That had of course led him to ask who the fuck Ayla was supposed to be. This time, the Free Folk woman's answer had been quiet and for his ears only. It'd also chilled him to the bone, as she grinned knowingly at him.

"Ayla's our Goddess o' course. The one we all follow, the one who taught us her ways. But then, you met her last night, didn't you kneeler King? You couldn't have missed her. Her skin's blue!"

Afterwards, Theon would regret asking his next question. Demanding to know where he could find Ayla so he could hunt her down and stake her heart with his dragonglass dagger had drawn a response that gave him no pleasure whatsoever.

"Not to worry my kneeler King, not to worry. You don't find Ayla. She finds you. And if you think she's planning a single raid on you and your army, you're fucking mistaken. We Daughters didn't assemble in mass for the first time in centuries just for one fucking raid. Your army represents new blood for the True North! A thousand-thousand new children for the Free Folk! We're going to milk you kneeler fucks dry, night after night, day by day! So long as you stay beyond the Wall, you're in Ayla's territory!"

The wildling was practically crowing in delight by the time Theon backhanded her across the face and stalked off. He shuddered at the implications of her words. They'd only lost around six hundred men from last night's… 'events'. But at the same time, the wildlings had apparently only lost eight. He'd already heard some of the returned Northmen bragging about the experience. If they were taken again in the night, would they be so quick to return to him?

How far did their loyalty stretch before it snapped just because of a wildling woman with a pair of tits and a cunt?!

Theon had come past the Wall to save his sister and to fight White Walkers and their wights. He'd expected hard, perhaps even impossible fights against the dead and their Masters. How the fuck was he supposed to have seen THIS coming instead?!

-x-X-x-

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