A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Gray

The morning air brought with it a cold chill that sank deep into Gray's skin. He let out a sharp breath as he was violently awoken by this world's frozen fingers slipping beneath his meager blanket. The others around him were rising as well. All of them groaning and wincing as they sat up from the frost covered ground. But Gray was not complaining. The cold pulled him free of a nightmare.

He had seen it again. The White Walker, or whatever it was. The monster he had seen beyond the Wall. It originally played out the exact same in his mind. All the way up until poor Will distracted the demon. Then Gray tried to use his magic. But it did not work. Instead, he stood there. Watching horrified as the demon ran Will through.

Then it turned to him. Icy eyes burrowing holes through him. He swore he saw the thing smile at him. Then he woke.

Gray grimaced as he pushed himself up off of the ground. As he sat up, a frozen wind whipped around the small encampment. Putting the last embers from last night's fire out. Gray sniffled and rose to his feet. Joints popping and groaning. Muscles straining and snapping. Castle Black may be a bleak place in his mind. But they had beds. And he was very excited to finally have one once again.

"Fullbuster." The firm voice of Benjen Stark said.

Gray glanced back at the man. The first ranger was at the rear of their camp. A precaution in case anyone decided to make a run for it. No one wanted to run north. Freedom was to the south. Wilderness everywhere else. Gray was surprised no one did try to run. They had been traveling for five days now. And not a single one of these prisoners attempted to overpower or outsmart the ranger in black.

He saw Benjen give him a stiff nod. Gray gave him a puzzled expressions.

"Clothes, Fullbuster." Benjen finally growled, "Gods dammit boy. I'd think you'd show some sanity and rid yourself of that habit as it got colder."

The ranger strode past Gray towards where the horses were tied up. The Imp's pony snorted and stamped it's foot as Benjen approached. But a gentle pat on it's muzzle calmed the beast. The other two horses were calm as could be around Benjen Stark. Clearly used to being in his company.

Gray rolled his eyes and scanned the ground. Starks, horrible with people, great with animals. He glanced around him and quickly found his thin shirt and pants. Provided to him by the wonderful Night's Watch, since he managed to lose his own after the very first night.

"It's not fair I say." He heard one of his future brother's in black grumbled nearby.

Gray followed the man's gaze to the very end of the camp. Sitting near the small stream they camped by, was a little red and gold tent with one occupant in it.

"The Imp gets special treatment." The prisoner growled, "Warm tent, warm food." He spat, "I have half a mind to-"

"Do what?" Gray interrupted, "Get yourself killed."

The man gave him a dangerous look. But Gray just shrugged.

"You know that's what would happen. You'll either get killed by Mr. Sunshine and Rainbows over there," He pointed at Benjen, "or beheaded by the Imp's rich daddy." He noticed a couple of the other prisoners chuckled a bit, "Take your pick. Either way, you lose."

"Either way, I get the satisfaction of gutting someone again." The man replied dangerously.

Gray froze a little. Tyrion did mention some days back that a murderer was among their company. He had thought the Imp was simply trying to frighten him. A veiled attempt at humor even.

Clearly I need to stop thinking the guy is a liar.

"Perhaps I'll start with you." The prisoner growled.

Gray stood tall, "With me?" he laughed a little but let the conversation die there. This psychopath was a waste of his time.

He glanced around the camp one more time. The other, more cooperative men were gathering up the supplies and packing away the campsite. Making ready to continue north to the Wall. Everyone seemed to be awake, save for the Imp and-

Gray scowled, stomped across the camp, around the cold fire pit and up to a lone figure still lying down on the cold ground. A mess of curly black hair covered his head. The neatly trimmed beard he had when they first started traveling was starting to grow thicker as the days went by. He had the look of a rugged man, at least in Gray's eyes. But Jon Snow still acted like he had the luxury to sleep as long as he wanted.

"Jon." Gray used his foot to nudge the man's shoulder.

Jon Snow grumbled and rolled over on the ground. Gray pursed his lips.

In the days since they had started north, he had taken it upon himself to watch Jon's back. He felt he had to in way. The guy was important to Erza. A friend to her in a harsh world where she likely had very few. Any friend of hers was therefore a friend of his. But Jon was beginning to test Gray's patience.

They did not speak to each other. Not often anyways. Most of the time they would communicate when doing tasks for their little caravan. Benjen Stark often paired the two boys together when they needed to forage for food or start a fire. A circumstance that puzzled Gray given the gruff nature of the First Ranger, as well as his not so nice demeanor towards him in particular.

Gray sighed as Jon mumbled then rolled over.

I'm not playing today.

Instead of nudging him a second time, Gray reared back and buried his foot in the bastard's side.

Jon's eyes flew open and he let out a hoarse cry before coughing hard several times.

"Get up already dammit." Gray grumbled, "Before the murderer among us thinks he has an opportunity."

"M-murderer?" Jon sputtered as he bolted upright, blinking sleep out of his eyes, "But I thought-"

"He was actually telling the truth. Now get up!"

"I would listen to him, Jon Snow."

Both boys turned to see Tyrion Lannister waddling towards them. Already dressed, hair brushed out of his face, coat thrown over his stunted body. He had risen earlier than Gray thought.

"Both of you will find that I am actually a rather truthful person when I choose to be." He rubbed his hands together. Attempting to fight of the freezing air. "I had to take a piss." Tyrion briefly explained. He had noticed Gray's surprised expression, "It is one of the few things that can actually rouse me this early. That and your dour jailer's voice."

"My uncle is not a jailer." Jon said.

"He isn't? Then this isn't a caravan of prisoners marching to their new cells at the Wall. No this must be a traveling circus. Pardon me for confusing the two. Both are not so different. There seem to be plenty of fools in our company." Tyrion nodded, "So what would do you call him?"

"Save the bickering please." Gray groaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose, "I don't want to deal with the headache."

"The First Ranger of the Night's Watch." Jon snarled before jumping to his feet to stand over the little Lannister, "And my Uncle."

Tyrion smirked up at him, "Fancy titles for a jailer." He patted Jon's arm and strode past him towards the horses.

Before Jon could even move, Gray grabbed him by his arm.

"Don't-"

"You think he can disrespect my family and get away with it?" Jon snarled.

Gray blinked, "Yes. He can, and he will. And unless you want to actually have your Uncle become your jailer I suggest you watch your temper."

Jon narrowed his eyes, "And why do you care?"

Gray shook his head, "Come on. Let's finish packing."

Jon frowned as Gray began to march back towards the rest of the camp.

"Hey!" Jon barked, "That's not an answer."

Gray's shoulders sagged, "You want an answer?" He spun on his heel to face Jon, "The answer is simple. I care, because Erza cares. And if she wasn't involved in this then I would have happily let you make a complete and utter fool of yourself. Sure as shit would save me a headache. However, it just so happens, that I care about Erza being at least a tad bit happy. Even if she isn't around right now. And I think she'd be much happier if she knew that I at least watched your back and kept you from stepping into anything stupid." Gray huffed, "Come to think of it. If she was here right now, she probably would have smacked you upside the head. My approach is actually nicer."

Jon scowled, "I think she would have stood by me and defended my Uncle's honor."

Gray snorted, "You're delusional, lover boy. And do you want to know how I know that? Because I've known Erza since we were kids. You've known her all of what? Half a year?" Gray let out a quiet, exasperated laugh, "Don't tell me how my family would act."

"Alright you lot!" Benjen's voice rang out before Jon could reply, "No rest tonight. The Wall is just a dozen or so miles north. We walk until we reach Castle Black!"

"Or in my case ride." Tyrion grinned as he pulled himself up into his special saddle. Once on top he uncorked a wine skin and pressed it to his lips. A satisfied sigh left his chest as he gulped down the drink, "I'm ready whenever you are, Ser Benjen."

Benjen frowned as he mounted his own horse and turned it north, "I'm not a Ser."

He snapped the reigns and began trotting up the road. Behind him, the small column of rag covered prisoners trudged along.

….

Gray winced. His feet were starting to ache. He thought that he would already be used to walking these ridiculous distances by now. Hell, he had walked further back home in Fiore. Then again, back home, he had his magic. A wizard's physical abilities were bolstered by their magic. Or so the theory goes, if he remembered his master's teachings correctly. It was why he was able to withstand the cold so well. His ice magic allowed him to endure temperatures that most human beings would have succumbed to in minutes.

But in a world that lacked magic, how long could that endurance last?

I think I'm starting to find out. Gray thought to himself as he felt a throbbing pain race up from his heel to his hip.

His mind was torn away from the pain though as he heard the Imp shuffle on his mount. He glanced up to see the little man reach for a small pouch on his saddle. Gray was expecting him to grab his wineskin yet again. With how much he had already drank from it, Gray was surprised that he had not fallen from his saddle yet. But instead, Tyrion pulled out a small, leather book from the pouch. Tyrion then rested back in his saddle, let the reins sit loosely in one hand, and held the book open in the other.

Jon glanced over at Gray. The dark haired boy just as surprised as Gray.

"If you two wish to know, I am more than capable of reading and riding." Tyrion announced over his shoulder. He folded the book in his hand and twisted around to glance at the two, "It's a skill that took several weeks to master. But when one travels often, one tends to grow bored. Hence…" He held the book up and smiled, "My entertainment beyond the wine. And sometimes with." He flipped the book back open to the page he had been on. As his eyes roved the page he cleared his throat, "Do either of you read?"

Jon opened his mouth, "I-"

"Well of course you do." Tyrion cut him off, "You grew up in a castle. Among the Stark children no less. I'd think it a crime if you could not at least read simple sentences. But what about you, Gray?"

Gray shrugged, "Yeah, I guess."

"You guess?" Tyrion replied.

"I know how to read. I'm not stupid." Gray remarked, "Just don't do it very often."

Tyrion winced, "An even worse crime than not being capable of reading."

Gray frowned, "How so?"

"Well, not many in Westeros have the great fortune of being as educated as you obviously are." Tyrion replied, "They do not have the opportunity to further their own learning on their own. You my friend, are misusing a valuable gift. I suggest changing that."

Gray shrugged, "I just don't see the point. Why read when I can get better at other things?"

"And by other things I assume you mean chopping another man's head off?"

Gray paled a little. Tyrion rolled his eyes.

"Oh don't give me that. Your curious stripping habit allowed me to be able to see some rather impressive scars on your body. You can't tell me that you got those from falling down some stairs. I'm not that easily fooled." He turned a page in his book, "Scars like that come from one thing only. And that thing is battle."

"Or a good brawl." Gray shrugged.

"But a battle nonetheless." Tyrion remarked, "Now to answer the questions as to why you should read, let me give you some advice. Everyone is good at something. But everyone can be surpassed at that very thing they think they are good at. So one must practice all they can in order to ensure that they are never overtaken. Take my own family for example. My father is as cunning as they come. My sister likes to think she inherited that nagging trait so she attempts to emulate him in any way she can. Practice her… how do I put it?" Tyrion sipped on his wineskin before turning another page, " Being a-"

"A bitch?" Jon finished for him.

Tyrion choked on his wine for a moment. He breath sputtering as he tried to contain his laughter. When he finally managed to swallow the wine, he took a hoarse breath and smiled back at Jon.

"I see you have met my sister." He laughed.

"We crossed paths back in Winterfell. Didn't talk, but I could just tell by the way she treated the guards."

Tyrion nodded, "Nevertheless, she grows more ruthless by the day. That for her is practice. She builds on her strengths. Now, as I was saying. You have that. Then you have my brother Jaime. A knight of the realm. Member of the King's Guard. A great warrior if there ever was one."

"A Kingslayer." Jon interrupted.

Tyrion winced, "I would not say that to his face if I were you. And that goes for you as well Gray. I like both of you, I would rather not see you get killed."

"And what makes you think he'd be able to best me?" Gray asked.

Tyrion shrugged, "It's simple, he practices. Or at least, he used to practice. I dare say he may have gotten a touch lethargic in the past few years. He has put on a couple pounds. Peacetime tends to do that to knights I'm afraid. But when we were at war, you would be hard pressed to find anyone who could best him. Now why, you might ask? Because Jaime treated practice as seriously as I treat reading. He studied swordsmanship. Committed his very soul to it. So much so that he became arguably the best in all the seven kingdoms." He flipped a page, "Even to this day, I doubt anyone could best him."

"I bet Erza could." Jon muttered under his breath.

"No doubt there." Gray nodded, "I saw that Jaime Lannister as we left Winterfell. All style, no substance." He smirked at Jon, "He's just a blonde pretty boy."

"Not wrong there either." Tyrion chuckled, "So you have those two. Then you arrive little, monstrous me. The one who doesn't have the cunning and ruthlessness of my sister, nor the physical abilities of my brother. So what must I do in order to ensure not only that I am the best at something, but that I can survive if things were to go wrong for me on my travels." He patted the page of his book, "I invest my time in gathering knowledge. For you see, cunning can only get you as far as your ambition lets you. But once you pissed off the wrong person, cunning doesn't work anymore. Violence tends to work well in a pinch. But if you are not gifted, you may as well dig the grave for yourself. But knowledge is something that can be a weapon for anyone. And it can be used in anything."

"Knowledge is power." Gray nodded, recalling hearing that several times throughout his life.

Tyrion snapped his fingers, "Precisely my point. And in order to expand my knowledge and sharpen my brain, I read. A book is a whetstone for the mind. It keeps it sharp just as a grindstone does for a sword." Tyrion closed his book with a dull clap, "And that is my advice to both of you."

Gray nodded, "You could have spared the stories and just gotten to the point."

"And where is the fun in that?" Tyrion grinned. He reached his wine skin again. Just as he pressed it to his lips though he stopped, "I'll be damned that's enormous!" He breathed.

Gray blinked, confused. Then he followed both Jon and Tyrion's gaze. And his jaw dropped.

The last time he passed by the Wall, well underneath to be more accurate, it had been dark out. He could not have seen just how massive the Wall truly was. But in the daylight it was sight to behold.

It was unlike anything Gray had ever seen. A massive structure that looked like it was a solid block of ice. It towered so high into the sky that even at this distance, it still looked unfathomably tall to Gray. Like a small mountain jutting up out of the frozen plains. The sun's rays hit the Wall and caused the ice to shimmer like a jewel. A sight that almost took the ice mage's breath away.

Sitting at the foot of the shimmering, crystal like wall. Like a speck of dark soot in an otherwise perfect layer of snow, was a castle with no walls. A gray, foreboding structure that promised bleak days for all who came into its clutches.

"Castle Black." Jon breathed beside Gray.

Gray gulped then nodded. There was his new home. He hoped it would be a temporary arrangement. That Erza would somehow find the others and discover a way home in the process. If anyone could do it, she could. Nevertheless, Gray could not help but feel great unease as he stared at what was to be his new prison.

He could tell Jon was thinking the same thought. The boy who had been so enamored at the prospect of joining the watch when they had begun their journey had slowly seen his fantasies be torn down by reality. The Watch were not an honorable collective of knights dedicated to defending the land. They were criminals. Imprisoned away from society in the harshest conditions one could possibly find. And their home was not a strong castle with tall walls and ballasts. It was broken down stone shell of a structure. Beaten and shattered by the relentless cold and even more relentless apathy of the men at the Wall.

"Regret your decision now?" Gray asked Jon.

Jon did not reply. He continued marching along.

Tyrion leaned down from his saddle.

"I don't know about you two, but I think I am going to enjoy this." He smiled before taking another sip of wine.

Gray balled up his fist. As entertaining as the Imp could be, he was such an asshole.

"Well, when we arrive. I will get the most important thing out of the way." Tyrion remarked.

"That being?" Gray asked.

"Finding and fucking the nearest girl in sight." Tyrion grinned.

"There's no women allowed at the Wall." Jon replied.

Gray had to suppress a laugh when he saw Tyrion's horrified expression.

"Never mind then." The Imp sighed, "I suppose if I get drunk enough, it won't matter." He wrinkled his nose, "Then again, they only have ale at Castle Black. According to your Uncle at least." He frowned then smacked his lips, "At least we will all be miserable together."

Gray snorted then snatched the wine skin from Tyrion's grasp, "I'll drink to that."

Because gods knew, he needed something to numb him for the rest of the day.

HOLY SHIT! It has been a minute! Hello everyone! I am in fact not dead, shockingly. I want to apologize for the ridiculously long wait for an update. My life kinda imploded there for several months. During which time several job changes, more than one financial crisis, a move across the country, and straight up stress have kept me from being able to put anything down on paper. And as much as I wanted to update this, I could not bring myself to have the energy to do it for a loooooong time. There is so much meticulous planning and backtracking and planning and research and planning…. whew!(I NOW UNDERSTAND WHY GRRM TAKES SO DAMN LONG TO WRITE HIS BOOKS). But now, things are finally starting to settle down again. The stress is significantly less than the past few months which means my head is finally clear enough to start writing again (Thank god!) Anyways, before I go, if I fail to update before then I just want to say, Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Enjoy the turkey, the awkward family conversations, the football, and the food coma afterwards! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Have a nice day!