2nd Month of 300 A.C. Somewhere Beyond the Wall
Mance Rayder
He sees the things coming towards them and feels a chill run down his spine. The living dead, the things he has been running from since he learned of their existence all those years ago, they are coming toward them with the slow gait of death. Fire is burning through the air, stinging his eyes with its smog, but it does nothing to soothe the rapidly beating heart inside his chest, the feeling that death is coming for them. A feeling that is seemingly confirmed when the wights stagger along, out of the flames, some of them unburnt and undamaged, most likely because of the White Walker walking at their side, Mance watches transfixed, as Stark barks commands and looks to move toward the enemy, Mance wants to call out, wants to tell the boy not to bother, that doing something like that would only make things worse, but instead he keeps mouth shut and watches as men ride toward their death. It seems that Stark realises the mistake he has made just as the men has sent out under the man with the Moose as his sigil are cut down by the White Walker and rise up again as wights. He can hear the screams, the bellowing of commands and the fighting begins in earnest.
Mance's hands are still bound together, the men of the north and the Night's Watch not trusting him enough to allow him free access to the horn or the dragonglass dagger he has in his side pocket, and so he struggles to free himself as he sees the carnage unfolding before him. There might only be one White Walker but it is doing a lot more damage to the men who are there riding toward it fighting it, only to have their weapons broken and their lives removed from their person. The Wights fall, fire burning through them, at least Stark has the sense to send men with flame toward the wights, so that they might not come toward them and flank them, if it is possible for dead things to do such a thing. But there is carnage, all around them, there is only death. "Free me!" he cries at Stark, the boy looking at him and then at the carnage.
"Why?" Stark asks.
"I know a way to kill the thing." He bellows.
"How?" Stark asks. The why are you just mentioning this now, goes unsaid.
"Free me and I will show you!" Mance bellows back.
"It could be a trap my lord. Mance Rayder is known for lying." Ser Alliser Thorne says, coming to intercept their conversation now.
"Do you really think I would lie about something like this?" Mance asks, not even bothering to keep the scathing anger from his voice.
Before Thorne can respond, Lord Stark is ordering his men to free Mance, and when that is done he looks toward him and asks. "Alright, how do you know how to kill them?"
Relieved at the feeling of freedom, he momentarily considers bolting from the scene, the feeling of self-preservation beginning to kick in, but then he decides against it, one way or another, he is likely to die here, he might as well die fighting. With that in mind, he reaches down into his pocket and pulls out a dragonglass dagger. "This, this seems to be the only thing that can kill the White Walkers. I have one, and I think there might be some elsewhere, I am not sure."
He hears Thorne mutter something, but he keeps his attention fixed on Stark. "What is it?" Stark asks.
"It is called Dragonglass Stark, or earth glass, it was created by the Children long ago." Mance replies.
"And you are sure that it would work?" Stark asks.
"Yes." Mance replies, his voice strong and filled with conviction.
"Very well, let us see if you are right or not." Stark says, before he turns to his men and bellows out. "Men of the north, we ride towards darkness, keep your weapons steady, and your fire lit high, we ride for the root of this." his men nod their agreement, and Stark then turns to look at him once more. "You are riding in the middle." Mance marvels at how quickly the northmen form up, and as he finds himself in the middle of this well-oiled unit, he finds himself breathing quite heavily, his nerves are kicking in now, the bravado of before slowly sinking.
The ground disappears as his horse moves quickly toward where the carnage is raging, the wights and the White Walker fighting the men that were sent onwards, the Brothers of the Night's Watch throwing their lives away like the servile dogs that they are. His heart is hammering in his chest, fear is growing inside of him, he finds himself wondering what mad urge made him speak up, why he is not smacking Stark over the head and riding as fast as he can back to the Wall, away from this source of carnage and dust. The sounds of men dying and rising again fills his ears, the fires are burning brightly, but Mance wonders if it will be enough, when all is said and done, will it truly be enough to deal with what is before them, and what is to come. He does not know; he is not sure he wants to know. His horse is moving quicker now, as it comes toward the stench of death, Mance is surprised that the horse has not bolted yet, perhaps it will soon, perhaps he will get away from here yet, he is not sure. The wights spot their arrival and move off to deal with them, fire engulfs them all then, and Mance is partially burned as things move on and progress, slowly but surely the wights around them disappear but more rise up in their place, the dead who had fallen recently rising once more. Fear is buried within him, and it comes out then as he roars and bellows, doing his best to remain alive.
As the darkness grows around him, Mance feels as though he might well sink into it, there is a feeling growing within him that is not normal, he has never truly felt like this, this sense of powerlessness, this feeling that nothing he does will actually make a difference, that it will be alright when all is said and done. He thinks that now he knows how his family must have felt when they crossed swords with the darkness before, something is growing within him, this feeling, that feeling, it is all getting mixed up in his head, and before he knows it he is falling, falling, falling, but he is not, he is still rooted to his saddle, and his horse moves forward, but there is darkness all around him. He cannot see anyone else, he cannot see Stark, or the wights or even the White Walker, all he can see is the darkness, and it terrifies him. He wants to call out, but he thinks that if he does that, then he might well become nothing at all, and that scares him as well.
Eventually, he has to call out. "Where am I?"
"Everywhere and nowhere." A voice replies, surprising him.
"Who are you?" he asks to the nothingness.
"I am everything and nothing." The voice replies.
"That is not an answer." Mance replies hating how his desperation seeps into his voice.
Laughingly the voice replies. "You always were quite impatient weren't you Mance? Would you like to see someone?"
"Who?" he asks, his suspicions being aroused.
"Me." The voice says, and the darkness breaks for a moment, to reveal a man standing before him, with dark eyes and pale hair.
"You? Here?" Mance asks. "Why?"
"Because the time is upon us." The voice replies.
"But… but I am not ready to go yet. Dalla needs me, our child needs me!" he protests.
"We had an agreement Mance, and now it is time for you to make good on it." the voice replies.
"But… but…" Mance says trailing off, not sure of whether or not he is trying to convince himself or the voice, no the figure before him, he knows that it would have come to this eventually.
The figure does not move, and yet suddenly Mance is closer to them. "You are ready to go, but first, I must show you something." And before Mance can ask what, the darkness has gone, in its place is only light and trees and sunshine. "Look around, you know this place." And so Mance looks, and he is surprised, because he does know this place, he lived there for a long time, before he became free, the lands were once covered in snow, but are light and filled with green. "This was your home once, as it was once mine." The figure says, answering his unasked question.
"What happened to it?" Mance asks.
"Look." The figure replies.
The vision before them changes, as darkness comes and pacts are made, pacts are broken, as men reveal how fickle they can be, and the creatures of the world come together to plan and have their revenge. The world grows dark with the colour of blood and the colour of deceit, as the things of the world turn from good too bad. Darkness grows, and grows, and children die, their screams echo across the land, women cry out for their men and their children, and the men are broken as their homes fall to the ground. A wall grows then, as a stern faced man decides what needs to be done, those who refuse to abide by his rules are pushed beyond the wall, and are cast out as rejects, as those not fit for living. Mance sees those people struggle but grow, but then the darkness comes for them once more, as it did once before, and they struggle, and the Kings and Queens dance around the thorns of the world, but still they continue, finally someone emerges through it all, the fighting happens and breaks and starts and breaks, over and over it goes, until eventually there is nothing left, but children. Children who reforge the world as they wish it was.
The vision fades, leaving Mance filled with questions, he looks at the figure and asks. "What was that? What did you show me?"
The figure looks at him sadly. "Everything as it once was, and as it might be again. But you knew all of that already."
"What happens now?" Mance asks, though he thinks he already knows what is about to happen, there is a sneaking suspicion building inside of him that he has always known, but that he has never wanted to confront it.
The figure says the next words with something akin to anger and bitterness, but there is sadness there as well. "Now you leave."
With that Mance opens his eyes once more, and he is back in the fray, the fighting going on all around him, men fighting, dying, screaming and returning to life. He finds himself wandering, staggering, moving through it all, towards where the beast itself stands, directing the flow of the fighting. He draws the dagger and dances around, moving from foot to foot, before lunging, he hits, and misses, he moves back, feels cold hit him, then moves forward once more, and their dance goes on and on, Mance feels himself beginning to falter, but just when he thinks he cannot go on any longer he plunges the dagger in and the White Walker disappears in a howl of wind and smoke, he looks down and sees blood pooling forth from a dozen wounds he did not know he had, he falls down his face landing in the snow. A voice calls out, but he ignores it. He closes his eyes, and begins to sleep, his watch finally over.