Ice, Blood, and Steel

Warning: This story will contain spoilers, both from the book, the TV show, and speculative. Cannon is both book and TV, and sometimes completely different from both. JRRMartin owns most of the characters, except for the ones I created my self, as well as the story this work of fiction is based on. I don't anticipate that will change over the course of the story, so I should only have to say this once.

Prologue

Four men stood before the cleft, weirwood trees flanking either side. They were dressed in heavy layers of skins and furs, but still the men shivered, cold and more than a little apprehensive. Being summoned by the Children was a rare thing, and summoned with a message from the Crow rarer still. Bael, the leader of their small clan, feared he knew why they had been summoned. He waited, not patiently, for Leaf to speak to them. Finally she arrived, appearing as if from no where through the cleft. Her leafy cloak billowed around her though the air was still, and her green-and-gold cats eyes shone brightly despite the hiding sun. She looked like a child, but the men knew her to be older than any of them, and far wiser.

Silence hung in the air like hoarfrost, and Bael could stand the apprehension no longer. "You've a message for us from the Crow." It was not a question.

Leaf inclined her head. "That I do. The child of prophecy has been born, the child that will lead to our salvation. You must bring her here, so that she can be protected, and properly trained."

Bael barked a humorless laugh. "How are we to protect 'er, when the raiders come every six moons? We can nae even protect ourselves."

Leaf smiled, answering in her soft sweet voice. "She will have the protection of the Gods, here where their power is the strongest. She will learn from us, all of us. The trees will speak to her, and she to them. She will be our envoy to those beyond the wall, those with the power to stop this Long Night. You need not worry for her safety here, but every day we wait to take her, her life is in peril."

"Aye," Bael said, "but how are we to get to her beyond the wall, and how will we get her back? I'll nae be climbin' back o'er with a babe in me arms."

Leaf smiled, a knowing smile that seemed queer on her childlike face. "You need not cross the wall." she answered, inclining her head, "The child's father will bring her to you. Wait at the Nightfort, at the black door. He will come to you there."

"But how will he open it?" asked Fenn, a tall boy of six and ten. "Only those what wear the black can get get through the Black Door."

"True, and also those whose blood sealed the spells. He will get through, and he will deliver the child to you."

Bael furrowed his brow. "Why would this kneeler give us his own sweet babe?", he asked thoughtfully.

Leaf's face turned sorrowful at the question. "He does not wish it, but he knows he must. The trees have spoken to him, and the wishes of the Gods made plain. He must sacrifice the child for her own good, and for the good of all. He will bring the child, make no mistake."

Bael nodded. He knew this day was coming; the Crow had long ago told him this duty would fall to him, and also the raising of the child. He felt unworthy of such a task, and feared that the Gods would be disappointed in their choice of foster for such an important child. Nevertheless, the task had fallen to him, and he knew he must obey.

"Aye," he said at last, "Give us the night to prepare, and we'll leave at first light. How will the child's father know to meet us?"

"He will know." Leaf said, "The trees will speak."

Walking softly to the nursery, Lord Stark stifled the sobs that threatened to take him for what he was about to do. His little snowbird, his winter rose, how could he give her away? How could he do that to her mother, to her brothers and sister? How could he do it to himself?

He had known she was special from the moment he first held her; her steel gray gaze enchanted him at first sight. She never cried, not even a whimper, but looked at everyone and everything as though memorizing each line and curve. Her spirit shone through those metal eyes, and it was old, so very much older than him. His heart ached in his chest for the child he was to lose, yet he knew it must be done.

He had prayed every night in the Godswood for it not to be so. The Old Gods had spoken to him through the weirwood, and told him of the child's destiny, but even so he prayed for mercy. Let me keep her, he prayed, let me be the one to keep her safe, let me teach her. But the Gods had not been merciful.

He crept silently to the crib, not wanting to wake the child, but he need not have bothered. She was lying awake as though waiting for him to arrive. Her eyes followed him as he bent to lift her and she cooed softly when he held her in his arms. He kissed her lightly as a single tear rolled down his face and onto hers. "Sweet little snowbird," he whispered, "we're going on a trip, you and I. A long trip to a place where you'll be safe."

Quickly he made his way to the barn before he was seen. His horse was already saddled and provisioned, a good supply of goats milk set aside for the babe, but the wall was a hundred leagues away, and the trip would be long an hard. He had told his lady wife that he was leaving on a tour of the banner-men, and that he would be gone by dawn. They had said their goodbyes earlier that night, and even as she gave her love to him, he felt guilty knowing what he must do. She would wake tomorrow to find her babe gone. She would never suspect he had taken her, the thought would never cross her mind. Instead she would believe some intruder had sneaked into Winterfell unseen and stolen the babe in her sleep. He prayed that no innocent soul would be accused of the crime, and left the rest in the hands of the Gods.

Making a sling of rough spun woolen cloth, he placed the babe inside and mounted his horse. With one last look back at Winterfell, he rode through the gates to deliver the child to her destiny.

More than a fortnight later he arrived at the Nightfort, knowing his time with his child was nearing its end. He dismounted his courser and led her to what remained of the stables in the ruined old stronghold. He hobbled her and threw down fresh hay, before patting her gently on the flank and turning away. He found the well easily enough, descending the steep staircase into the bowels of the castle. Though he had never been to the Nightfort before, though he had never seen the Black Door, he knew the way as though he had been born here.

When he reached the weirwood door he placed a hand upon it and a face appeared. The large unnatural eyes looked deeply into his, and the mouth began to speak. "You are no Black Brother. You do not belong here." it said simply.

"I am not of the Nights Watch, it's true," he answered, "I am a Stark of Winterfell, and I carry the blood of the First Men."

"Then let me taste this blood for myself," the door replied, "and you may pass." Stark unsheathed the dagger at his hip, and drew it across the palm of his left hand. He cleaned the blade of the dagger on the leg of his breeches, and re-sheathed it. Lifting his bleeding hand he placed it carefully back upon the weirwood door.

The tree seemed to smile. "Ah, the blood of the First Men indeed. You may pass, Lord Stark." With that the mouth began to stretch, wider and wider until it was wide enough for him to step through. On the other side were the men he had been sent to find, the men who would take his baby daughter away from him. He approached them warily. "You are the men sent by the Crow?" he asked.

"Aye," answered the oldest of the men, "my name is Bael, the leader of my clan. The Crow's tasked me with deliverin' the child to him, and to be her father beyond-the-wall. " Father beyond-the-wall, this man will raise her.

Stark closed the distance between them, so that he may look this man in the eye. "This is my daughter, Serra," he said, "my most precious child. It's a hard thing I do. Promise me that you will love her as your own."

The other man looked down at the girl child and smiled. His heart, so full of fear and doubt, became lighter at the sight of her. She was a beautiful babe, with dark hair and intense eyes. Bael recognized the strength in them that her father couldn't; fierce, she was, as fierce as the direwolf that was her family crest. Suddenly he knew why she had to come to them. Ferocity in a woman was not looked upon kindly by the kneelers, they would either break her spirit or cast her out. With the Free Folk she would learn to use that fire, and if what the Crow had said of her destiny was true, she would need it. He looked up at the child's father, understanding the pain he must have felt. "I'll do just that, and more Lord Stark. She'll be my child in all but blood, you can believe that, and no harm will come to her while I draw breath."

Stark gazed at the man before him a moment longer, seeing the truth of it in his eyes, then he turned his attention to the child in his arms. "Be strong, my little snowbird," he whispered, "be strong and brave and true. Know always that your father loved you enough to let you go." He kissed her gently, on the top of her head, her forehead, each cheek. Then, as if to keep himself from changing his mind, he removed the sling from around his neck and handed the babe to her new father. Without another word or even a look back he turned and strode back through the black door, and the portal closed behind him.

Bael watched Stark walk away, some part of his heart aching for the other man's loss, while another rejoiced at the treasure he had been given. The wind began to pick up, and a light snow began to fall, but when he looked down at the child she seemed content, as though she hardly noticed the cold. "It's time we moved out," he said, looking up at his men. "It'll be a long journey home." As the cold wind began to howl and snow fell in earnest, the small group of men turned from the imposing wall and began the long trek back through the Haunted Forrest.

The smoke coming from the huts was their first sign of the village; they were almost home and each man breathed a sigh of relief. The Gods had kept them safe, as promised, and they had seen neither wight nor Other, nor even a wolf during their long trek. The first light of dawn was showing to the east, and the people of the village were beginning to stir. One of them noticed the men coming through the snow, then another, then another, until the whole village was rushing to meet them.

Pushing her way through the crowd, Bael's wife Mara ran into his arms, kissing him tenderly. Only after she had had her fill of him did she look down at the babe in his arms. A smile broke on her face as she gazed lovingly at the child and then back to her husband. "She's beautiful," Mara said, eyes shining. Bael had tried to give his wife the children she desired, but his seed had never taken root. Now he saw in her the longing she had tried so long to hide from him. He lifted the child from the sling and handed her over into his wife's arms. "Your daughter." he whispered in her ear, and kissed her gently on the cheek.

Mara began crying in earnest now. "My daughter." she repeated, never taking her eyes off the dark haired child in her arms, "My own sweet daughter. You must be freezing little one, let us go inside."

Bael smiled, following his wife into their humble hut. "Have you found a wet nurse for the babe?" he inquired, pulling off his thick gloves and kicking off his boots. The fire in the hearth felt like heaven to his cold bones.

"Lera had her babe a fortnight ago. She has agreed to nurse this little one as well." Bael was happy to hear it. "Good, good." he said, "Lera's a strong woman, her milk will be good for the bairn. And what of the pup?"

"A fine litter was born while you were gone. As you commanded I've chosen the largest and strongest of the litter. They will grow together, and he will never leave her side."

Bael nodded. "As it should be. She'll need a companion, she will, someone who can share her burden. I fear that though we may love her, we mightn't ever understand her, or the things she will face. I ne'er wish for her to feel alone."