Hi! It's been a while since I wanted to write a crossover or an AU with TWD's characters on George RR Martin universe, especially after seeing a few drawings long time ago.

English is not my mother tongue, so, apologies beforehand for any grammar, spelling mistakes that might be. I like to practice my english skills translating from time to time so... I have no beta either ^^' I have no beta either ^^'

This whole "scene" could be settled in the first Season of GOT.

Hope you like it.

His clenched jaw tried to fight the slight trembling of his entire body. His face was victim of the cold breeze biting his skin, but it was enough to take the heat away from his limbs.

He didn't waste time anymore blinking when he felt the soft touch of the snowflakes on his eyelashes, gathering around them, becoming one whole with them.

The man shrugged his shoulders under the black coat, his cold nose sinking in the cloth looking for some sort of warmth.

He straightened his back when the knowing sound of the platform pulleys working reached his ears.

A tender white flow left his lips, getting lost in the mist of snowflakes surrounding his dark figure. The man squinted, trying to avoid the hair inside his eyes, moved towards them with every single puff of air.

The wind got worse for a while as the soft sound of his footsteps become more familiar, the snow giving up under them.

He had never been a big fan of that white dust. There was nothing in it that created the same fascination in him that any other human being in any of the Seven Kingdoms felt towards it.

The snow was cold. Wet. Enemy of silence and lover of the enemy itself. It could become your best ally on a battle and it could also drive you to death, silently. It could alienate any living thing in the outside, forcing them to find shelter; hiding them.

He looked up at the leaden sky. The stars weren't shining tonight either.

"Dixon" Lord Commander's low voice made him stare down again.

"Lord Commander" He greeted him with a sort nod, his voice rough from the cold and disuse.

Both men stared towards the frozen, pale and huge abyss of ice and snow in front of them, hundreds of feet beneath them.

Even today, months after he put his feet for the very first time up there at the border of the ice wall, his breath got stacked on his chest looking at the horizon.

He never felt like a "big man", his household never let him think otherwise; but the feeling of insignificance that swallows him when he is up there… But, never like that first day.

"Everything alright?" Daryl blinked slowly hearing Lord Commander's voice.

"We don't expect visitors in a short time" He answered, seeing the ghost of a smile on the man's face.

"That's good news."

Daryl nodded, wetting his lips. He bit his cheek trying to smother the hiss that escaped his mouth.

He hide his gloved hands on the warmth of his armpits, closing his fingers, moving them slightly in the coldness of his boots, trying to keep at bay the frostbite, like some of his Brothers suffered.

"I recall seeing you here in the afternoon."

Daryl shrugged his shoulders, changing the weight from his body from one foot to the other.

It was never easy for him to do small talk, with anyone. He was used to keep his mouth shut while the rest talk, giving him the role of silent observer most of his life. He was comfortable with that place between the shadows; the one gave at him since his birth.

"I get it." He looked to the stone faced Lord Commander, his sight drawn to the clear darkness in front of them. "There are nights that not even the largest wall between the rest of the Seven Kingdoms and them, let me sleep at all." A little smirk appeared on his face. "It's been a long time since I came here, and still happens." His gloved hand fell on his shoulder.

Daryl took a hold of his own self trying not to flinch. He dug his fingers on his sides when the Commander gave him a gentle squeeze before he finally let him go.

"Try to sleep, son. Tomorrow, is going to be a big day."

"Yes, sir." He replied looking at him one last time before seeing his shadowed figure walking back to the platform.

Daryl waited till the booth disappeared to stare down again to the north, the real north.

Lord Commander's words kept replaying on his head over and over. "There are nights that not even the largest wall between the rest of the Seven Kingdoms and them, let me sleep at all."

Them. The White Walkers.

When he was a child he'd heard about them. Old stories told by the elderly or women with too many winters on them. Dark stories, created to scare the little ones. He also had spared nights with his eyes open wide like an owl in the darkness, while his big brother was snoring on his own bed. The next day, seeing his red eyes and yawns, Merle would laugh at him.

As the time passed he would feel less scared of them, his father taking their place. Why be afraid of the idea of a bunch of creatures that everyone talked about but no one had proof they were real? If they were true, and they had actually kill all those men and women, and children they had crossed path with, where were those stories come from?

Bed time stories. Crappy tales. Lies became truths.

But with his feet up there, with the big Wall of those stories under him, with the cold wind biting his skin till the bone; he couldn't stop the feeling of being surrounded again with those child fears after all these summers.

He could hear his brother laugh inside his head, calling him pussy, summer boy and so many other things he used to call him instead of his name. He could picture his cunning stare, the big smile, all teeth exposed. His voice full of sarcasm, "are you going to let a little fairy tale to steal your sleep, Darylina? Dixon ain't scared of nothing."

Yes. Merle would have walked out in the middle of the night with a storm ragging, with the sword attached to his back and puffed chest under his black cloak. He would have walked out alone if he wanted to, not under any kind of order from the Lord Commander. No. Dixon didn't play by the rules of no one but their own.

Daryl snorted in the darkness.

He had already learned that he was an exception to that mantra.

Maybe his father was right and actually he was a bastard even though he wasn't a Snow. Maybe Merle and him, didn't share the same blood, and that's why he kept calling "sir" the Lord Commander. Maybe that's why he felt a knot on his stomach trying to phantom what will come for all of them when the sun rise in a few hours. May be, that's why he called Brothers those men with whom he shared a destiny.

Daryl gazed from east to west. Nothing moved. Nothing that he could see from there. Nothing that wanted to be seen.

He clenched his jaw swallowing slow, a slight nod of his head created a little snowfall from his hair towards his eyes. He felt the invisible touch of a snowflake on his cold lips just before it melted under his tongue.

His breath got lost in the blizzard.

With his back facing the unknown and a torch on his right hand keeping away the frost cloistered on his bones, he went back to the platform, and what he expected to be a few hours of sleep before the morning expedition.

Maybe the Dixons were fearless. Maybe he'll become the shame of his family, just like everyone thought he would be when thinking about his future. Maybe, being one among all of them was his destiny since the beginning. Maybe there, between his Brothers, he could finally become someone. Maybe there was nothing bad about being a crow after all.

If you have reached this note without wanting to kick my ass, thanks for reading. If you want to leave a comment, I will appreciate it.

I tried to not translate "literally" from spanish, sometimes is a real pain in the ass doing it but... Practice makes it better or so they say? I hope it wasn't too bad anyway ^^

Also, thanks again to my friends on the Spanish side of this fandom for keeping up with me on those "dry weeks" without writing a single word, and encouraging me to not give up.