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123 AC, Fist of the First Men
However, what completely surprised him was the fact that it was not a man that he saw, but a woman. And immediately, he realised who he was facing, for if this was the body of the Night's King, then this was his Corpse Queen, the creature who almost destroyed the Night's Watch.
Cregan Stark stared at a figure of legend, a living creature from the Age of Heroes itself. He had grown up with tales of the White Walkers, of the Long Night, and had even seen many impossible things in Bran the Builder's tomb. However, there was something distinctly different when he saw one with his very own eyes, especially one that his ancestors had allegedly fought.
The tale of the Night's King and his Corpse Queen was known in all of the North. When he was younger, Cregan had sneered at the thought of someone like the Night's King, of the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch who had betrayed his duty, even worse, his humanity, just to chase a woman, who had even proclaimed himself King in his hubris.
It was said that this legend inspired the fact that the Night's Watch's fortresses were not heavily fortified from the South, but that might have simply been an edict from the Kings in the North to generally avoid men of the Night's Watch from proclaiming themselves kings and rebelling.
The creature was, without a doubt, beautiful, but in a very unnatural manner. Her face and body were shaped like those of a woman, but she was more akin to living ice, a sculpture of pure white, than a living, breathing woman. Cregan could never imagine loving such a creature, even if she hadn't been a member of a race that wished to do nought but kill all living creatures before them.
The only part of her that truly showed that she was more than simply a frozen sculpture had been her eyes, which had widened in shock as their blades met. Then suddenly, her blade was ripped from her, and she moved faster than Cregan thought possible and tried to attack him once more, ice claws glowing from her fingers, only to be met with an invisible barrier that stopped her.
The creature kept hammering with her fists, trying to get past it, but failing. She tried to turn around, but that invisible shield seemingly surrounded her like a circle, and she found herself trapped within her own cavern.
Finally, his companions made themselves known, having seemingly had their fill with their exploration of the Heart Tree, "Well, isn't that interesting? You're…. different."
The Corpse Queen opened her maw and released a scream, or at least, that was what Cregan heard. It sounded strange, like screeching icicles, even if that comparison would not have made sense in any other setting, and yet it did now.
The Lord of the North nodded gratefully at the Potters for their aid, and let them walk curiously towards the White Walker, "I can't help but wonder what makes you so different."
The creature obviously understood him, given the defiant look that she was giving him, but remained silent. "However, I'm more curious about what you're doing here. This was obviously a hideout from your kind, from the White Walkers. You must have been here for so long, for thousands of years, in a place that was the complete antithesis of your own people. Even if you'd have gotten past the Heart Tree's wards, you should have tried to destroy it, tried to deny your inevitable enemy an advantage. That would be the logical thing to do, at the very least, but you didn't do that, did you?"
The sorcerer turned slowly away from the White Walker and walked slowly towards the Night's King's frozen grave, "Suspended animation, if I'm guessing. Quite an impressive display of Cryomancy, freezing everything on a molecular level, almost like stopping time itself."
"The Night's King," Cregan found himself saying.
"Hmm… that makes sense. The Night's King and his Corpse Queen. I never quite got how that story ended, only that they were defeated. But I suppose, since you're not feeling so talkative, I would ask him. It's very delicate work, this magic, but I suppose that his body would grant us some clues."
He approached the frozen wall where the Night's King's body remained, and the Corpse Queen slammed her palms repeatedly on Harry's invisible wall, screeching in a way that gave Cregan a migraine, but the sorcerer remained undeterred.
He put his palm near the Night's King's body, and Cregan heard some cracking, like that of ice breaking. The sound became louder, until a voice spoke up behind him, "Stay thy hand! I shall speak!"
Immediately, the cracking stopped, and the sorcerer turned towards the voice's source, it being the Corpse Queen. The voice was that of a woman, even if it had a strangely melodic tint to it. Cregan's jaw hung in pure shock as he saw the White Walker glaring at him hatefully, "She's speaking the Common Tongue."
The words were strange, archaic, in many ways, but he understood them well enough and recognised that they were common. He had never heard or even read anything of the like, but he could understand them well enough.
"No, she's speaking the Old Tongue," Daphne countered, "We sometimes set up a translation charm whenever we feel like we're going to need it. Still, it is curious that a White Walker learned a tongue of men, even if it's obviously a very outdated form of the language. Then again, languages do evolve over thousands of years."
The Corpse Queen continued glaring at them, and Harry raised an eyebrow, "If you changed your mind about talking, I don't mind going back and finishing what I started."
"Pray, leave us be. I have wrought no ill upon thee," the creature uttered.
The sorcerer didn't seem impressed by that reply, "Is that so? That doesn't fit what I know from your kind. They seemed to have been particularly active as of late, in a way that doesn't bode well for mankind."
"Long ago did I leave mine own kindred. I seek not to bring harm upon your kind."
Cregan couldn't help but interject at that response, "You bewitched the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, you almost destroyed an order that served as the best defence against your kind. Is that not an act of harm? Is that not an act of war?"
"Or is it, perchance, an act born of love?" the Corpse Queen argued, her tone slightly harsh but with a tint of sadness.
Love?
This creature, one of the beings that almost wiped out every living being in Westeros, perhaps even beyond, an enemy of life itself, was a woman who enchanted a Lord Commander of the Night's Watch with her sorceries and almost destroyed the very order that protected the realm from her kind. It was obviously a ploy from her kind to seduce and kill the opposition, nothing more. By nature, this being was mankind's enemy, and her actions ensured that even further.
The suspicion must have stayed on his face as the Corpse Queen continued, "Doth it truly stir thy wonder that I should be apt for love? Ne'er did I intend such a fate. I was curious about the Wall and the sorceries woven about its bones and was bidden to study its secrets. He found me upon a fated morn, bursting forth from his frozen rampart, blade drawn to strike me down. Oft did we cross arms thereafter, and with each clash our spirits grew the nearer, until the day he questioned me of mine own arts. In turn, he taught me his craft, the magic of earth and trees. Thus were we wed, and dwelt within his hall, until whispers spread of him… and of his Corpse Queen"
She spat that last part before turning towards the frozen form of her supposed husband, "O my beloved… thou didst contend against the very world for my sake, and soon shall we be made one again."
The White Walker continued staring at the Night's King's form in sorrow, and for some reason, it made Cregan angrier, "Your kind tried to wipe out my people, to spread nought but darkness and death, and yet you dare speak of love now."
"I heed not thy thoughts, nor thy judgment. My sole concern is mine own beloved."
"The beloved whose ancestors you massacred, the one whose species you almost destroyed. If your people had succeeded, there wouldn't have been a beloved in the first place."
"Speak not of matters of which thou art witless, human." The White Walker answered coldly.
"What is there to talk about? Your kind wishes to kill us all!" Cregan exclaimed.
"We desired only to live."
That answer brought silence to the entire cavern, even more oppressive than the cold that had spread before it. Even the Corpse Queen seemed surprised by it, obviously not having meant to reveal it. Cregan did not know what she meant by that, that the White Walkers only wished to live.
Thankfully, for the first time since Cregan's argument with the White Walker, Harry spoke up, "Care to elaborate about your comment? Because, as far as I can see, your people are the ones with the advantage here, the scale of your Necromancy and your Cryomancy would easily wipe out your enemies. Aside from some kind of divine intervention, there isn't much that poses a threat to you."
The Corpse Queen looked as if she would refuse to answer, only to look at the frozen form of the Night's King, and turn back towards the sorcerer, "When the worlds were sundered and made to collide, we were cast into this accursed realm, a wasteland of searing flame and roiling chaos. Alone we wandered, strangers upon a hostile soil. The younglings perished swiftly, and thus were we driven to dire measures. A great spell we wove, to echo the calm of our lost dominion, to summon forth the stillness and order of the home we once knew. It devoured half our number, yet by its power we endured. So might the tale have ended… were it not for the cursed trees."
Cregan did not understand half of what the creature meant, but Harry obviously had, as he explained, "You came in the Cataclysm. That… That makes a lot of sense. With how chaotic things were in the aftermath, you would have used this to impose your order, a semblance of your own realm, onto this one. The network of Weirwoods, even a young one, would have interfered with the spell, but it still worked, didn't it?"
"So we believed, at first. Yet soon the Tree-born came, and in their folly planted their accursed roots. With a mighty sorcery, they shattered our woven magicks, and fires vast as the heavens themselves did blaze across the firmament. The children… The children did not survive."
"And so, a war began," Daphne continued, "Between you and the Children of the Forest. But to go so far as to destroy all life on this realm."
"We lost the war," the Corpse Queen claimed, surprising them all, "We are not… we were not forged for battle. In our first world, we dwelt in peace, in the gentle cold and the quieting order. We sang hymns unto the Great Frost, and our children played amidst the snow, shaping wonders, dancing and laughing without end. We knew not death… not until we were cast into this blighted realm. We came to know it only when the Tree-born assailed us as we sought to unmake their Divine Trees. They smote us with their strange glass and its unquenchable fire.
Far too many fell ere we understood the truth of the divine tree's might. Each passing of our kin fed it without cease, granting the Tree-born sorceries far beyond their natural ken. Our numbers waned. We stood upon the very cusp of extinction, powerless to halt it. In despair, we bowed, ready to fade into nothingness… until one day, a youngling came forth and proclaimed he had found a way to secure our survival."
"Necromancy," Harry muttered, "You seriously chose necromancy to even the playing field?"
"They bent our dead to serve their purpose. Why, then, should we not do likewise?"
Cregan couldn't help but wonder why humans were even involved in this battle, for it seemed to be a war between the Children of the Forest and the White Walkers. This whole affair reminded him strangely of his lords who feuded over territory that they would benefit from. The White Walkers were hoping to create a land of cold and ice to survive in, and the Children of the Forest likely saw it as some sort of threat.
Harry, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow at her statement and answered, "Where did he get the Necromancy from?"
That brought the Corpse Queen to a halt completely, and a small smug smile grew on the sorcerer's face, "A people who lived knowing of Death suddenly mastering Necromancy on a scale that I've honestly not seen before, I'm not buying it. And looking at your magic now and I can't see a single trace of Necromancy, even though you're obviously trying to bring 'your beloved' back from the dead, but there's also a whole lot of very advanced Ice Magic, so you're not an amateur. You can't use Necromancy, can you?"
After a pause, she answered, "I cannot. Such sorcery lies ever beyond my grasp, for only the King's chosen warriors are fit to wield it."
Harry hummed, "What of the rest? What of the people who are not the King's Warriors? What happened to them?"
"They lie in endless slumber at winter's very heart, awaiting the King's triumph. to awaken in a new world, a truer world, wherein they may once more know peace. A realm without death… without chaos."
The sorcerer snorted, "So, let me get this straight. You were on the verge of dying out, and a young man came with a solution, a way to even the playing field against the Children of the Forest, which you crowned as your king. He put everyone who didn't learn his magic in an endless sleep until he wins and turns this world into a mimicry of your own former one."
That brought an uncomfortable silence in the cave, one that was only broken by the man's wife, "What of you? You are hiding from your kin in the very space that their enemies once used. Why?"
When she did not answer, Harry's eyes suddenly widened in surprise, "You aren't supposed to be here, are you? You woke up on your own before the King allowed it. You didn't trust him, and you arranged for the magic to dispel after some time. You're certainly skilful enough to pull it off, given what I'm seeing here. You explored what happened in your absence and saw a structure of magic, one probably beyond anything you had seen before. You went to study it and met a man. Your lack of Necromancy means that you could slip past most of the wards meant to attack your people. You fell in love, saw the beauty of humankind, and the worst of it as well. And now, you're trying to heal your 'beloved' while hiding away from your own people. But why? Why didn't you go to them for help? They are your people, aren't they?"
The Corpse Queen hesitated for a moment before speaking up, "When first I stirred from slumber, the King knew, and his soldiers descended upon me, corpses clad in armour, eager to strike me down. They were… twisted, whether by time, by war, or by their bitter defeat, I cannot say. Yet they were not the kin I once knew. Never would we raise a hand against our own, but his warriors sought my ruin. He has hunted me ever since. Only when I drew near The Great Wall did I learn I might hide from them. Thus do I linger here, awaiting the hour when mine own beloved shall be reborn anew."
Cregan stood there in silence, the archaic speech making him miss most of what the creature had said, and yet there was no denying the sheer fear in her voice, something that he had not thought possible for her kind to ever display. She was afraid of this King, that he was sure of it, and given the way that the Potters shared a glance, they obviously knew it as well.
The creature turned away from her 'beloved', and turned towards them, her blue eyes blazing, "Thou wouldst challenge mine own kindred. Thou wouldst challenge the King… yet thou understandest not what stands before thee. Thou graspest not the depth of his becoming, nor the horrors he hath wrought. Leave this place. Abandon thy vain pursuit. Cherish what little warmth clings to thee… for when he comes, even the memory of it shall be devoured. I shall remain here, with mine own beloved praying that we, in our stillness, shall lie hidden from his dreadful gaze."
A chill spread across the room, as if the King had known that they were speaking of him. The Lord of the North felt out of his depth as he digested the warning very clear in the Corpse Queen's voice, which was followed by an oppressive silence.
It was Harry Potter who spoke first, his tone strangely solemn and sympathetic, "We appreciate the warning," he opened his mouth as if saying anything before taking a deep breath and continuing, "He will never return, you have to know that, right?"
The White Walker turned towards the sorcerer, her blue eyes having turned angrier than before, "Cease thy falsehoods and speak plain. I need only seek him within the Divine Tree; though I should wait an age unending, he shall yet return unto me."
"It wouldn't even be him, an echo, that would not belong to this place. His soul has passed on."
The blue woman screeched, "Enough! Trouble me no further!"
"What was his name?" Harry asked suddenly.
The woman opened her mouth to answer before her eyes widened, first in surprise, then in grief. She fell to her knees, and the sound that tore from her throat was unlike anything he had ever heard before. It was raw, like ice splitting beneath its own weight, collapsing away, a grief that was too deep for anyone to do.
Frost spread from the ground with every weep, before enveloping Harry's invisible shield, which cracked away as if it were glass. Cregan raised his sword, ready for the creature to attack, only for her to remain utterly still like a frozen statue covered in frost, that the enraged creature he expected.
The Lord of the North couldn't help but explain, "What happened?"
"Grief," the sorcerer's wife answered, "She did not remember her beloved's name. His legend is that of a forgotten Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. It has been twisted over thousands of years, likely in the very network of Weirwood Trees where she hoped an echo of him would reside. She has no chance of ever bringing him back to life, even as a fragment of his memory, as it has been forgotten through his own legend."
Cregan's eyes widened in shock as he realised what Harry had done. He had snuffed away her hope, showed her that her greatest goal was gone, that she would never reunite with her 'beloved'.
It was, without a doubt, the cruellest thing that Cregan had ever seen, and he voiced that opinion: "That was cruel."
"It was," Harry replied, "But it was a cruel kindness, nonetheless. Love is a beautiful thing, so much more powerful than one might think. But everything ends, eventually, and we all must learn to live with it, or else succumb to the madness of denying grief."
"Do we leave her like this?" the Lord of the North uttered, unknowing of how to deal with the frozen form of a weeping woman.
"She will awake when she is ready. Perhaps, then, she will learn to live rather than waste her life in a meaningless pursuit of something false. Let's go. We've learned a lot here, but there's still much that we need to uncover."
Cregan didn't want to leave the White Walker like this, but he reminded himself of his duty to the North and to his people. He should not delay his expedition for something like this. And so, he turned away, going back to the top of the hill, leaving the echo of the Corpse Queen's weeping still ringing somewhere deep in the frozen dark behind them.
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AN: That chapter took a lot more out of me than I expected. I tried something with the old speech, which I don't know if it works or not. I might have played a bit too much Elden Ring recently, and it got stuck in my head. Anyway, I know that this is a very big alteration from the legend of the Night's King and his Corpse Queen, but I did mess with this lore before and really like this. The original plan was to have this in a hidden room in the Nightfort, but I couldn't manage to fit Cregan in it, something that is kinda important in the future. I also took a few liberties with the White Walkers' history in a way that fit the rest of the lore in the story. As usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
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If you want to support me, check out my patréon at https://www.patréon.com/athassprkr
I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions on them, so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.
Thank you guys for your support in these hard times.