Lost in Sothoryos | A Game of Thrones Fanfic

The Others

(Location: Crastors Keep)
(Time: Nightfall)

Daeron sank deeper into Craster's seat, his eyes locked on the swirling flames that offered a semblance of warmth and comfort. The relentless wind outside seemed to penetrate through the very cracks in the walls, intensifying its icy grip. He couldn't help but tense, feeling the weight of the impending conflict settle upon his shoulders.

Huddled together, their faces etched with fear, they awaited the impending conflict that loomed outside. The women scarred both physically and emotionally, had found solace in Jon's presence. They knew he had risked everything to rescue them from the clutches of their tormentor.

As the wind howled relentlessly, the women's eyes darted nervously towards the entrance, as if expecting an enemy to burst through at any moment. Jon, the embodiment of their newfound hope, shared their concerns. He knew that the Others would come, it was just a matter of when.

Gently, Daeron placed a reassuring hand on the shoulder of one of the women, his eyes filled with determination. He vowed to protect them. In his presence, they found a glimmer of courage, a beacon amidst the encroaching darkness.

As the wind abruptly ceased its relentless assault, a hushed silence settled over Craster's keep. The sudden stillness was met with a mixture of relief and trepidation. Some of the women, overwhelmed by the weight of the impending conflict, could not contain their fear, and tears streamed down their cheeks.

Daeron, sensing their distress, offered them a gentle smile filled with determination and compassion. With a calm and reassuring voice, he assured the women that he would take care of the situation, invoking a sense of trust and comfort "Don't worry ladies, I'll take care of it and be back soon"

His words resonated within the chamber, offering solace to those who had endured so much. Daeron understood the weight of responsibility that rested upon his shoulders, and he pledged to shield them from harm to the best of his ability. The women, their teary eyes meeting Daerons gaze, found a renewed sense of faith.

Daeron stepped out of the keep, his body seemingly impervious to the biting cold that enveloped the clearing. Despite the absence of physical discomfort, a subtle unease settled upon him. A prickling sensation crept up the back of his neck, as if unseen eyes scrutinized his every move.

Instinctively, Daerons hand moved to the hilt of his sword. With a fluid motion, he drew the blade from its scabbard, its Valyrian steel gleaming in the dim light. Gripping the weapon tightly, he scanned the surroundings, his senses heightened, and his gaze piercing the shadows.

The silence persisted, broken only by the distant rustle of leaves and the soft whisper of wind. Daerons heart pounded in his chest, attuned to the heightened alertness that coursed through him. He was no stranger to danger, but this eerie sensation of being watched added an extra layer of tension to the air.

Every fibre of his being urged him to remain vigilant, to be prepared for whatever threat lurked in the darkness. The weight of his sword in his hand served as a reminder of the responsibility he bore to protect himself and those who relied on him.

As he stood there, a solitary figure in the darkness, Daerons piercing gaze scanned the clearing. That's when he saw it, even in the darkness it seemed to glow with a blue otherworldly light. Daeron could feel the temperature drop even more as the trees in the surrounding areas seemed to frost over.

Old Nans' stories didn't do the creature justice, even after all Daeron had seen, seeing the visage of an Other this strangely beautiful but inhuman creature made Daerons heart race. Even from as far back as he was, he could see the creature's blue star eyes and the frosty fog coming off of it. In its hand as a sword that looked to be made entirely out of ice, it looked thin and sharper than any razor seemingly vanishing when looked at edge-on.