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Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
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"Dialogue"
'Thoughts'
-Author notes-
Chapter 100: The Sealed North
The darkness receded slowly, like a tide pulling back from the shore, leaving behind fragments of consciousness that drifted and swirled in the void of Joffrey's mind.
He floated in that space between waking and dreaming, his thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind, his senses slowly returning to him one by one.
The first thing he felt was the rough wool brushing against his skin, its coarse fibers a familiar sensation against his flesh.
The second was the faint crackle of a fire, its warmth a welcome relief against the cold that had seeped into his bones.
The third was the distant howl of wind against stone walls, a sound he had grown accustomed to in his time at Castle Black.
He was warm, which was strange. He had grown accustomed to the biting cold of the North, the constant presence of winter that seeped into bones and never left. But here, beneath the furs and blankets, he felt almost comfortable.
His eyes fluttered open.
The ceiling above him was old and in dire need of repairs, its wooden beams blackened by centuries of smoke from countless fires.
A single fireplace crackled in the corner of the room, its flames casting dancing shadows across the walls. The room was gloomy and cold despite the fire, the warmth struggling to beat back the chill that permeated every stone of Castle Black.
Joffrey blinked, his mind slowly piecing together the fragments of memory.
The chase, Castle Black, the transfiguration of the Wall, and the creature trying to end their lives.
He remembered the surge of power that had coursed through his body, the ecstasy of magic pushed beyond its limits, the terrible weight of the primordial being's mind pressing against his consciousness. And then... nothing.
He tried to sit up, but his body protested. Every muscle ached, every joint screamed with pain. He felt as if he had been trampled by a herd of elephants, then thrown into a furnace, then left to freeze in the snow.
His left arm was gone, just a stump wrapped in bandages where his metal appendage had once been. He had been too drained to maintain the transformation, and the metal had reverted to its original state of scrap.
"Easy," a voice said, soft and measured. "You've been through quite an ordeal."
Joffrey turned his head, his eyes focusing on the figure sitting in a chair nearby.
It was the other wildling woman, Val, her blonde hair falling loose about her shoulders, her sharp features softened by exhaustion. She was holding something in her arms, a small bundle of red feathers that rose and fell with each breath.
"How long have I been asleep?" Joffrey asked, his voice hoarse and unfamiliar to his own ears.
Val studied him for a moment before responding, her blue eyes searching his face. "Seven hours, I think. You slept most of the night. The sun is already coming up."
Joffrey nodded, processing the information. Seven hours. That was not too bad, considering what he had done.
He had transfigurated a three-hundred-mile wall of ice into magical black stone, reinforced its defenses, and erected a barrier that had stopped a cosmic entity in its tracks.
By all rights, he should have been dead.
His body had simply refused to allow it. It was a good thing that he had put so much effort into strengthening his physical body in his new life. Otherwise, the result would have been very different.
He examined himself, his eyes moving over his form. Other than his missing arm, his body did not seem to be in bad shape. His magic had properly recovered, his reserves refilled by the ambient power of the world.
He could feel it thrumming beneath his skin, a familiar warmth that reassured him of his continued existence. The power was there, waiting for him to call upon it.
Joffrey's attention was then drawn to the bundle in Val's arms. The phoenix was still sleeping; its red and golden feathers were dull and lifeless without the fire that had once consumed it. It looked like an ordinary bird, small and fragile, its chest rising and falling with each breath.
"He hasn't woken up yet," Val said, following his gaze.
Joffrey reached out with his senses, feeling the connection between them. It was faint but present, a thread of magic that linked their souls.
He could feel the phoenix's consciousness, quiet and resting, its power slowly regenerating. The creature was alive, and it would recover.
"He is fine," Joffrey said. "He will wake up soon. After all, he had used all his energy to bring us back, and now he will need some time to recover. Phoenixes are resilient, but even they have limits."
Val stroked the phoenix's feathers with a gentle finger, her touch surprisingly tender. "Is it a he or a she?"
Joffrey paused, considering the question. He had not thought about it, had simply been referring to the creature as "he" out of habit. "I have no idea," he admitted. "But I suspect gender is irrelevant for a race of godlike creatures like this one. They likely reproduce through magic, through the sheer force of their will. If this phoenix wishes to create progeny, it will do so when the time is right."
Val raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in her expression. "That's... strange."
"Most things are, when you delve deep enough," Joffrey replied. "The world is far stranger than most people realize. The surface of reality is thin, and beneath it lies an ocean of secrets that would drive most men mad."
He shifted in the bed, trying to sit up more comfortably. His body protested, but he ignored it. He had been through worse. "How is the situation outside? The Night's Watch, the Wall. What happened after I collapsed?"
Val opened her mouth to respond, but before she could speak, the door to the room opened.
Several figures walked in, their footsteps echoing off the stone floor. The first one took Joffrey by surprise.
Jon Snow walked through the door, looking very much alive. He was dressed in simple clothes, leather and wool, the kind of practical garments worn by travelers.
His face was healthy, his eyes still sharp, and there was a strength to his movements that had not been there before. He walked with confidence, his posture straight and purposeful, and Joffrey could immediately see that his little experiment had yielded some results.
Behind Jon came Ned Stark, his face lined with exhaustion but his eyes bright with relief. And next to him came Melisandre, her red robes offering a splash of color in this gloomy room.
Joffrey smiled, a genuine expression of satisfaction. "You are looking much better than the last time I saw you."
Jon's lips twitched, a hint of amusement in his grey eyes...eyes that now held a faint hint of orange in their depths, like embers waiting to catch fire. "I have been told that I have you to thank for that."
Joffrey shrugged, as much as his aching body would allow. "The priestess did the hardest part. I just provided the... spark. The catalyst for the transformation."
He took note of the way Jon was dressed. He no longer wore the dark uniform of the Night's Watch. His clothes were simple and practical. "I thought they would have made you their Lord Commander by now," Joffrey said, his tone casual. "But instead, it looks like you are leaving."
Jon's expression was unreadable, his face a mask of calm. "My watch has ended."
The words were simple, but they carried a lot of weight. Jon had changed, transformed by his death and resurrection.
He was no longer the boy who had sworn his vows at the Night's Watch, who had believed that duty and honor were the most important things in the world. He had seen what lay beyond the Wall, had felt the cold touch of death, and he had emerged with a new understanding. He was no longer bound by the oaths that had once defined him.
Ned Stark stepped forward, his eyes fixed on Joffrey. There was gratitude in his gaze, but also concern, a father's worry for the son who stood beside him. "You saved us. All of us." He glanced at Jon, his expression softening. "My house owes you another great debt."
Joffrey waved his hand dismissively, a gesture that cost him more effort than he cared to admit. "I promised Robb I would find you. I keep my promises, Lord Stark. That is the end of it."
Ned studied him for a moment, his eyes narrowing with a new respect. "You are not what I expected. When I first heard of you, I thought you were just another Lannister...arrogant, cruel, full of your own importance. But you have proven me wrong over and over."
Joffrey raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I am still arrogant, full of my own importance, and occasionally cruel. But I am also practical. And I know when to put aside my personal feelings for the greater good."
"I will take what I can get," Ned said, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. "In this world, a practical man is worth more than a dozen honorable ones."
Joffrey turned his attention to Jon. "Tell me... can you feel it? The power in your blood?"
Jon's eyes flickered with that strange orange light, a brief flash of fire in their depths. "I can feel something. A warmth, like a fire burning beneath my skin. It's... strange. But not unpleasant. I feel stronger. More complete, if that makes sense."
Joffrey nodded, his expression thoughtful. "And it will grow stronger with time. You have the blood of the First Men in your veins, Jon Snow. The ritual simply awakened it. The power was always there, sleeping beneath the surface."
Jon and Ned exchanged a look, something that Joffrey didn't miss. A silent communication passed between them, a shared secret that they were not yet ready to reveal. Joffrey reached out with his magic, brushing against the surface of their minds, and collected fragments of their thoughts.
'Oh? I see.' Joffrey's eyes narrowed slightly. 'Looks like there was more to Jon Snow than I initially estimated... he has the blood of the dragon as well. Interesting. Very interesting.'
"Now," Joffrey continued, pushing the revelation aside for later consideration. As interesting of a potential subject Jon Snow may be, he had more pressing matters at the moment. "What is the state of the Wall, and the Night's Watch?"
Jon's jaw tightened, a flicker of pain crossing his features. "I... may not be the most indicated to speak about the Night's Watch anymore."
Ned placed a hand on Jon's shoulder in a reassuring manner, his grip firm and supportive. "You did what you had to do."
"Mmm?" Joffrey felt there was another interesting story there. He also briefly recalled seeing the bodies of several men wearing the uniform of the Night's Watch, laying dead in the courtyard. The memory was fragmented, but the image was clear.
"I..." Jon continued, his voice heavy. "I killed a few of my old brothers after waking up. They came after me... called me a monster. I had no choice. They wouldn't listen, wouldn't understand. They saw only what they feared."
"I see." Joffrey nodded, his expression unreadable. Some people had very narrow minds and were unable to deal with things they couldn't understand, so they resorted to violence. He had seen that before, in both of his lives. "Their fear was stronger than their reason. It happens."
"The Night's Watch will be fine, for the time being." It was Melisandre who chose to speak next, her voice smooth and confident. She moved in between Jon and Ned, walking closer to Joffrey. "Their numbers are thin, but there are no more immediate threats... are there? The new Wall will keep the darkness away."
"Speaking of that new Wall... what is it?" Jon asked, his brow furrowed.
"That black stone. Everyone is scared of it. The brothers say it feels wrong, like it's watching them."
"The oily black stone is something truly ancient," Melisandre said, her voice filled with reverence. "Most of the buildings of Asshai are made of it... though no one remembers how it was built anymore. And from what I have heard... the ancient city of Stygai is made of the same material. It is a material of great power."
"And that is all they need to know," Joffrey said, cutting off her explanation. "I have reinforced the Wall. It is much stronger now, and those White Walkers will have no chance of crossing it. The stone is impervious to their magic, and the runes I placed will hold against their attacks."
"What about that shadow creature?" Val asked, her voice sharp. "The one who chased us all the way from Hardhome?"
"It won't cross either," Joffrey responded, his voice flat. "The barrier I erected is designed to contain it. It cannot pass through the Wall, nor can it go around it. For now, it is trapped."
The room fell silent for a long moment, the weight of his words pressing down on them all. The fire crackled in the hearth, the only sound in the stillness.
Finally, Ned spoke, his voice tight with emotion. "I need to go back north. Bran is still out there, and I refuse to leave him. He is my son, and I will not abandon him."
"I will accompany you this time," Jon said, his voice firm. "I owe him that much."
Joffrey shook his head, his expression grim. "I'm afraid that would be impossible, Lord Stark. The barrier I erected will prevent anyone from traveling north, just as it will prevent anything from traveling south. It is a containment field, designed to keep the creature trapped in the Lands of Always Winter."
Ned's face went white, the color draining from his cheeks. "You trapped my son north of the Wall? You trapped him with that... that thing?"
Joffrey met his gaze, his expression unreadable. "I did what I had to do. If that creature had crossed the Wall, if it had reached the south, everyone would have died. Your other son, your wife, your daughters, everyone you love. I made a choice, and I would make it again. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few."
Ned's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white with tension. "I understand that. I understand the necessity. But I cannot just abandon my son. He is my blood, my flesh. I will not leave him to die alone in the frozen wastes."
Val stepped forward, her face pale. "My people are still north of the Wall. Hundreds of them, perhaps thousands. We were separated in the battle. Are you saying they are trapped there too?"
Joffrey sighed, running his hand through his hair. "I am saying that the situation is complicated. That shadow creature you all saw was drawn to my magic, not to the wildlings or to Bran. It is not likely to go after them. It will have retreated to its lair, and it will not be a threat for some time. They have a good chance of surviving up there, and in the future, there may be a way to get them across the Wall. Do not lose hope."
He did not tell them the whole truth. He did not tell them that the creature they had faced was merely an avatar, a fragment of the true being that slept beneath the ice.
He did not tell them that when that cosmic power fully awakened, even the improved Wall and its barrier would not be enough to stop it. He kept that knowledge to himself, as he knew it would be too much for them to stomach.
And besides, the day was still far away, he hoped. And by then, he would find a more permanent solution.
Jon spoke, his voice quiet but insistent. "There is something you are not telling us. I can feel it. There's more to this than you're letting on."
Joffrey looked at him, his expression cold. "There are many things I'm not telling you, Jon Snow. That is my nature and my own burden. Some truths are too terrible to share, too dangerous to speak aloud. I carry them so that others do not have to."
Jon's eyes narrowed, that strange orange light flickering in their depths. "I was dead. I saw the darkness, felt the cold. And then I was brought back, changed, transformed. I know there are things in this world that defy understanding. But I also know that secrets breed fear. If there is something you are not telling us, something that could affect us all, you need to speak it. We have a right to know."
Joffrey was silent for a long moment. He looked at Jon, at the determination in his eyes, and how much he reminded him of his old self, back when he demanded answers from the old Headmaster. The parallel was striking, almost uncomfortable.
And he sighed, a long, weary exhale.
"Very well, but I would advise you to keep these words as a secret, as it would only cause turmoil and panic." Joffrey paused, gathering his thoughts. "That shadow creature that you saw, the one that almost killed us, was nothing but a small puppet, operated by a much more powerful being. The real one still sleeps beneath the distant lands of Always Winter, inside some deep chasm that has existed since before the dawn of time. And when this Primordial Being truly awakes... even the new Wall will not be enough to stop it."
Melisandre gasped, her hand flying to her chest. "You are talking about the Other one... the rival of the Lord of Light. You saw it?"
Ned's face went pale, his eyes wide with horror. "When? When will it wake?"
Joffrey shook his head. "I do not know. It could be years, or even a few decades. But it will wake eventually. And when it does, this world will likely... end."
Jon's jaw tightened, his hands clenching at his sides. "Then what do we do? How do we stop it?"
"That's the thing... you don't." Joffrey met his gaze, his eyes cold and unyielding. "Now you understand why I didn't want to tell you? There is nothing any of you can do. The power that creature possesses is beyond anything in this world. It is a force of nature, a cosmic inevitability."
"What about you?" Ned asked, his voice barely a whisper. "You have power. You have magic. You could..."
Joffrey shook his head, a bitter smile playing at his lips. "It wouldn't be wise to put all your hopes on me. I am powerful, yes, but I am not all-powerful. I have limits, as you have seen. I have bought you some time. Use it wisely."
The room fell silent, the weight of his words pressing down on them all. The fire crackled in the hearth, the only sound in the stillness. The faces of those gathered were pale, their expressions a mixture of fear, grief, and determination.
And in the corner, the phoenix began to stir, its feathers starting to glow with a faint, golden light.
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