#so she's got this image in her brain right. this is her brother warden who is strong and has more morals than she does etc etc

[potatoesandsunshine]

origins has a hold on me...

[five-rivers]

Hello!  Today was productive, so here’s another chapter.  Prompts from @charcoalhawk and @thecommrade.  

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Collateral 

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Chapter 5

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He collapsed on the bed of his hotel room, exhausted.  Work hadn't gone well.  It hadn't gone well at all.  He'd had bad days before, sure, but this one had been especially miserable.  

He rubbed a hand down over his face, and groaned.  At least this hadn't been a freelance commission.  Then again, he never would have taken this as a freelance job.  Amity Park was too small.  Too insular. Too isolated.  Without company resources, he wouldn't ever have managed.

The phone rang.  The phone that he always kept on.  The company phone.

He answered.  “Tim, here,” he said.

“The client tells me you weren't able to fix the printer.”

“No, ma'am,” said Tim.  “There was a complication.”

“I understand that you broke one of the parts.”

Beads of sweat started to form on Tim's skin.  “Yes, ma'am.”

The woman on the other end of the line exhaled.  “You recall that we have a limited number or replacement parts for this printer.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“That it's a custom printer?” prompted the woman.

“Yes, ma'am, I know.”

“I don't need to remind you of our lifetime warranty?”

“No, ma'am,” croaked Tim.  

“Or our other guaranties?”

“No, ma'am.”  He inhaled and braced himself. “I will fix this, ma'am. I'll get the job done.  No need to send another repairman, I can do it on my own.”

“We're sure you can,” said the woman.  “That's why we sent you.” Another pause in which Tim's heart thudded uncomfortably in his chest.  “We're sure you'll complete the job.  Successfully.  And quickly.”

“Yes, ma'am,” said Tim.  He wasn't at all sure of those things.  He'd had a rare window of opportunity today, and he'd screwed up.  

“Good,” said the woman, and hung up.  

Tim dropped the phone back on his bed, and curse under his breath.  He'd had such a good chance today.  His 'printer' was surprisingly difficult to 'fix,' for something without 'double-sided printing.' Then that kid-  How had that kid even seen him?  He had scoped out the area days in advance.  He wouldn't have been able to make himself out from the stage, and he had 20/10 vision!

He groaned.  He'd have to find his way around increased security, on top of everything else.

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Youngblood knocked on the door to Ember's lair.  Even he knew better than to just burst in.  

The door swung slowly inward, creaking invitingly.  Youngblood floated forward, making a face at all the hot pink decorations.  He could dig the neon blue, but the pink reminded him a little too much of Walker's prison, and the one time the warden had managed to catch him, despite his natural invisibility towards adults.  Phantom had actually been the one to break him out that time.

Ember's lair was styled like a large auditorium, complete with sloping ceilings, box and balcony seats, and labyrinthine connecting hallways.  At least, Youngblood assumed that was complete.  He'd not had a lot of chances, either in life or afterlife, to go to auditoriums other than Ember's.

A few melancholy notes wafted towards Youngblood from behind the dark, velvet blue curtains drawn across the stage.  

“Ember?” called Youngblood.

The curtain's rings clattered, rattle-snake threatening, then fell utterly silent as the curtain parted, revealing Ember sitting cross-legged under a dust-filled spotlight.  

“Hey there, Cap'n Kid,” she called, her voice echoing like all ghosts' did.  She struck another chord on her guitar, before stilling the strings with the flat of her hand.  “What's up, you look kinda blue, and not in a good way, like me.”

“Phantom's in the hospital,” he blurted out.

Ember frowned.  “What?”

“He got shot.”

“Tell me more.”

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Jazz walked into the room, and froze.  There, lying on the bed, hooked to machines that beeped and hummed, was her brother.  Standing next to him, staring down, was her brother.

She closed the door behind her quickly.  

“Are you dead?” she asked her brother's ghost.  

He didn't look away from himself.  “No more than usual,” he said.  He didn't move his lips to speak, and the words curled inside Jazz's brain, meanings layered and shifting.  Not really, echoed the words.  Yes, as always, they said.  Halfway there.  One foot in the grave.  

His form shifted, too.  Or...  Not shifted.  It wasn't like he was glitching, either.  He wasn't like a buffering video, he wasn't like TV static, or a bad video.  He was blurred around the edges.  Uncertain.  Too dark and too dim and too bright.  His shadows were holes and stars shone through, and he wasn't entirely there.  He was transparent, and he would, disappear if she looked too long, too closely.  He was hard to look at, and was clearest with averted vision.  

Jazz took a deep breath, and took a step forward.  “Danny, what's happening?”

“Trying,” he said.  Attempting.  Assaying.  Experiment.  Necessity.  He flickered.  “Not ready.”

He turned to face her.  His skin was a delicate blue, his eyes were solid green.  

Jazz put her hands on his shoulders, and didn't flinch when one met ice and the other fell through.  “Danny,” she said.  “You don't have to do this.”

“Yes,” said Danny.  Need to.  Protect.  Defend.  Danger.  Help.

“Danny, you've just been shot.  We're fine.  We're safe.  Let us take care of you.  Please.  At least for today.”

On the bed, Danny inhaled sharply.  The Danny standing in front of her looked down.  “I'm scared.”

“I know.  It's okay,” said Jazz.  

The image in front of her shuddered, and then leaned forward, into her collarbone, his hairs tickling her chin.  Something shuddering touched her mind, something afraid.  

“It's okay,” she repeated.  “It's going to be okay.  It's okay to rest.”

“You'll get hurt.”  That thought was weaker, harder to interpret, but confident.  Danny knew it to be true.  “He'll hurt you.  He'll hurt other people.”  Have to help.  Have to protect. Danger.  Threat.  

“You saw who shot you?”

“Yes,” said the ghost.  

Jazz sucked in her lips.  “Tell me what he looked like,” she said. “I'll see what I can-”  She broke off.  “I'll take care of it.”

“Be safe?”

“Yes,” said Jazz.  “I promise.”

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Danny had taught Jazz how to get in touch with the ghosts of Amity Park, just in case.  Danny did a lot of things 'just in case.'  Jazz had labeled it as paranoia at first, but considering all the people out to get him...

She shook herself out of the thought, and focused on where she was walking.  Not productive right now.  Not here, in the dark, more than half of the streetlights taken out by ghost fights.  

She stopped in front of an abandoned house.  The last people to live here had left after the ghost attacks had started, and hadn't managed to sell it.  Its windows were boarded up, but, otherwise, it was in surprisingly good condition for a abandoned house.

Maybe that was because it wasn't abandoned.  It was haunted.  Twice over. The Webs had taken up residence in the house the first Halloween after the portal opened.  They were Obsessed with holidays and hospitality, and you couldn't do either of those things properly (in their opinion) without a house.  Danny hadn't seen any reason to kick them out.

Jazz walked up the steps (overgrown, but stylishly so) and knocked on the door.  “Mr Web?  Mrs Web?  It's Jasmine Fenton.  I have something to tell you.”

The door creaked open.

[mira-gilastorm]

Fear Cuts Deeper Than Swords

Chapter 1: Brace for the Cold

Winterfell was bustling with activity like it hadn't in months. Something about the King travelling north with his whole family. Sansa chattered on and on about it to her ladies. Arya was just excited to see real-life knights and it was Clary's job to keep up with Arya. She was, so far, the only one who could other than Jon. And the Septa seemed to prefer a lady-in-waiting do it. It had made her mother uncomfortable to see her bonding with the Stark girl, but Jocelyn wasn't really in any position to refuse the Wardens of the North. Besides, it wasn't like she ever let Clary have friends. Arya was fun - a kindred spirit. She was wild and didn't care to play by the rules of her gender. She would train and fight with her brother Jon when no one but Clary was there to see and it was endearing. But not today, today the Stark men had gone off to behead a deserter from the Watch and everyone else was preoccupied with readying the great Keep for a royal visit.

"What do you think they'll be like?"

"Who, m'lady?"

Arya gave her a frustrated glare. "All of them. Any of them. Just, what do you think they will be like?"

Clary turned the corners of her mouth down. They were sitting at a railing above the training yard, watching Arya's littlest brother train in archery. He was barely a tot and using what amounted to a toy bow - it was almost comical. The younger sister could shoot circles around her brother if they'd give her half a chance. Coming from a family that allowed her to train in secret, it angered Clary. "I know the Queen is said to be a beauty unparalleled. She has the Lannister gold hair and emerald eyes and her twin brother, Ser Jaime of the Kingsguard, is as handsome as she is beautiful. They call him Kingslayer and Oathbreaker for killing the Mad King he was sworn to protect."

The little wolf scoffed. "Like any sane person would have done otherwise. The man was going to burn the whole world to the ground if someone didn't stop him."

Clary watched her charge for a moment, considering. Arya was barely ten and one, not yet a woman grown. But she spoke like a warrior beyond her years. "Even still, I heard the cooks saying all three of the children are coming as well. They're all supposed to share in their mother's beauty." Arya's face darkened again. That was a sore subject. Her sister, Sansa, was the spitting image of their lovely mother - with the red Tully hair and bright blue eyes. But Arya was a Stark, through and through, with gray eyes and flat brown hair that did what it wanted, no matter how many times Clary attempted to tame it. It didn't help that Jon was always ruffling it like she was some kind of pup.

"Are you two supposed to be up here? Wasn't Septa looking for you, little one?" Lord Stark's voice was husky from the cold. His sons and ward trailed after him, carrying awkward bulks. Clary lowered her eyes and curtsyed as her mother had taught her.

"We're watching Rickon and the others try to hit targets. They're miserable archers, Father. I'm much better than the lot of them!" She turned her gray eyes to Clary for confirmation.

Clary could see the Stark boys smirk at her knowingly. She nodded in deference to Eddard Stark. "It's true, m'lord. Your daughter is an unparalleled archer. With proper instruction, she would be a valuable asset to the North."

Arya beamed at her lady's words. "See, Father? Even Clary knows! Although she's more talented than she lets on herself. You should see her spar with a dagger and short sword. She's a natural!"

That got the Lord's attention more than the praise of his youngest daughter. "What's this about you girls sparring?"

"Arya has not been sparring, m'lord. I train with my mother regularly. I didn't know she was aware of my skills." She averted her eyes from the retinue of soldiers where she knew her stepfather was watching with a glare.

Robb, the oldest Stark boy, barely six and ten, stepped forward. "And what business does your mother have knowing how to handle a blade, much less teaching my sister's lady-in-waiting how to wield one?"

Jocelyn had warned her daughter that this might happen when she was chosen to be close to the Starks, and she told her there was always one thing to say that would help explain any out-of-ordinary family traditions that northerners sometimes took to protect themselves. "It is family tradition for all of us to be able to fight, daughters or sons." She raised her face to meet the steel gray stare of Lord Eddard Stark. "Winter is Coming, m'lord."

He nodded stiffly. "Indeed it is, Miss Rivers." He motioned behind him to his boys and the men standing at attention behind them. Jon Snow, his own bastard son, brought up an armful of the largest wolf pups Clary had ever seen. Arya squealed in delight. Bran and Robb were already holding pups of their own, and Theon looked to be carrying two others. Clary's eyes drifted to her stepfather, a Dornishman who had taken her in and treated her as his own daughter when he married her mother. He gave her a brief nod of approval. She had handled the questions well. Luke Garroway was the captain of Eddard Stark's personal forces. They had fought together in King Robert's Rebellion, she knew, and it was why she was trusted to be Arya's lady, despite having no name or true-born father to speak of.

Arya had picked out her wolf. "Clary! What should I name her?"

She moved to her Lady's side, admiring the pup she had cuddled to her chest. "Something fierce, like yourself, m'lady."

Some of the men snickered at her comment but Arya's eyes shone. "Nymeria, then. Her name is Nymeria."

* * *

"Two months on this bloody road, Jace. Two months." His brother was miserable. He hated dealing with anyone outside of the downworld.

Alec, Isabelle, and Jace all rode with the king's convoy. It had been mother's idea - to ride with the mundanes. The Institute generally operated outside of the workings of the common humans, especially these Westerosi nobles, but Jace was enjoying himself. His golden hair wasn't out of place with the queen's Lannister family so he was assumed to be a cousin of some kind.

"You could try not to be so pleased with the situation." Alec brought his horse alongside Jace's.

He flashed his brother a charming grin. "And where's the fun in that? How often do we get to actually enjoy ourselves?" Alec glowered, refusing to answer. "Besides, I've never been north. I'm interested to see what this warlock is on about."

"You didn't read the letter." It wasn't a question. Jace rarely stopped to do anything other than train and ready his weapons.

His nose scrunched up in distaste. "Nah, that's what I have you and Iz for." At the mention of their sister, they both glanced over their shoulders at the collection of carriages and wagons they were travelling with. "How do you think she's fairing with the other ladies?"

Alec rolled his eyes. "If she isn't astonishing them with tales of long forgotten battles that we probably fought last week, then I'd say she's miserable listening to their idle castle gossip."

That was likely true. Their sister had drawn the short straw, as a female, and was in a carriage with several of the Princess Myrcella's ladies-in-waiting. The Lightwood name got them far in King's Landing, so it wasn't hard to join the party northward. But it came with the strings of playing by the mundanes' rules.

"This warlock claims mundanes are starting to report seeing wolves and ice demons. Sounds like the north is overdue for a visit from the Clave." Alec was recounting details of the mundanes' sightings as someone called a halt ahead of them. The brothers exchanged a glance and both urged their horses to the front of the caravan where they could see the impressive walls of Winterfell. The gates opened and a line of well-trained soldiers filed out, marking the road in honor of the king's entrance. Jace and Alec led the way in, followed by the Kingsguard and royal carriage. A line of nobles waited to meet the king. Jace and Alec paid them no mind. They weren't here for the royal visit or whatever other mundane concerns brought King Robert all the way to the North.

"Mother said we would likely find the warlock near the library. He apparently poses as a partially trained Maester, some sort of apothecary and librarian now."

Isabelle bounded up, clutching at the cumbersome skirts. "Sounds like a good guise for a warlock." Her dark hair and hazel eyes stood out in the cool air of the north.

"Glad to see you survived the ladies, Iz." Jace quirked a brow at her.

She scoffed. "Honestly, I think I've met shax demons that had more brains than those girls. All they wanted to talk about was how many sons this Lord Stark has and whether Princess Myrcella will end up betrothed to one. The poor girl is seven, Jace, and all they can talk about are these Stark boys-"

Alec held up a hand to stop her before she started listing off the Stark boys and reasons they would make good suitors for the princess. "We're all here. Glamour, but remember we don't know how many downworlders live here. And we've all heard the stories about the blood of the First Men giving the Sight. Behave as if you can be seen." All three nephilim pulled out their steles and activated their glamour runes.

They moved quickly, watching closely to see if any eyes followed them or noticed them at all. Jace thought he saw one of the Stark's soldiers glance at them, a Dornishman, but at second glance he seemed to just be scanning the yard. They made their way up into the main keep without issue. Near the tower steps that should lead them to the library, Jace heard whimpering and shushing.

"Nym, you have to be quiet. Lady Arya will be back as soon as she's finished greeting the royal guests."

A small gasp escaped Izzy's lips as they saw the largest pup imaginable. The pup, Nym, turned at the noise, eyes wild and mischievous. Jace could tell there was no way to fool whatever that beast was. It saw right through his glamour and leaped down several steps to crash into him, dragging a lovely redhead with it.

She stared at him, shocked, before gathering her thoughts much faster than he was able to. "I'm so sorry. She's the Lady Arya's wolf and is just as wild as the little lady. We're still training them, but they're only a few weeks old, so they'll learn."

Her bright green eyes were uncertain, but hiding something and his instincts kicked back in. "You have the Sight?"

"The what?"

"You can see me."

The girl looked him over, in his red and gold - Lannister colors - and decorative sword. "Isn't that the point?"

Alec cut in. "Jace, come on." He held her stare for a moment longer before turning to follow his brother's order. Isabelle stopped ruffling Nym's fur and the three moved past the redhead to continue up the staircase.

"If you're looking for Lord Bane, he won't be up there." They turned to stare down at her where she was peering out a window at the scene down in the yard, which must have been why she was there to begin with. The king and Lord Stark were disappearing down into what looked like some kind of crypt. Strange, but the two had history, and it wasn't his place to get involved in mundane concerns.

Alec was the one speaking up for their group. "And where will we find Lord Bane?"

The girl glared up at them from her place in the window. "Wherever the party is. He has rather," she smiled slightly, as if at a private joke, and Jace found himself wanting to ask her what it was, "extravagant tastes."

Jace shrugged, smirking at his brother. "Looks like we'll be spending time with the royal party after all." He peered briefly over the window's edge to see people filtering in.

"Well, I hope you enjoy yourselves, whoever you are." The redheaded girl pushed herself off from the window and made a clicking noise to the wolf, whose ears perked up immediately. "But I must really return to my duties and make sure Lady Arya doesn't do something crazy like collapse a banner on the Lannister soldiers or the like." She curtsyed deeply and Jace caught a quick glimmer off of something tucked in the folds of her gown, a weapon or maybe - just maybe - a stele. He couldn't be sure. Whatever it was clearly had runes marked on the hilt.

Isabelle descended a few steps to put her finger under his chin, drawing his attention from where the girl had been. "You're drooling, Jace. Over a mundane." She tilted her head in the teasing way only Izzy could before turning to Alec. "So what do we do, big brother? Do we wait for the warlock here, hoping he comes back alone, or do we seek him out in a lovely royal feast?"

Jace snickered, shaking his head. Of course Izzy wanted to go to a party. She was always the center of attention - their perfect distraction on missions. Her beauty, strength, and confidence radiated off of her and it was impossible to overlook. She was all raven hair and honeyed-green hazel eyes, with pale skin that drew eyes from everyone.

Alec relaxed his head against the stone wall he was leaning on, staring at the keep's ceiling as if it might save him. "Fine, but we don't draw attention to ourselves." He glared at Isabelle. She raised her hands in defense. Then he turned his stern gaze on Jace, who had taken to toying with his decorative blade. "Goes for you too. No showing off."

"Me? When have I ever?"

* * *

Daenerys hovered outside the door of Illyrio's sunroom. She'd never seen anyone like the woman who'd come to visit today and couldn't help the curiosity that dragged her to listen at the cracked entrance, as the obvious topic of conversation.

"Has the girl shown any signs? Marks?"

"No, she has no mark, but I'm telling you, there's something different about her. She's not mundane. I would swear my magic on it."

"And what of the boy? Her brother."

"Entirely human. Possibly mad. He's selling her to the Dothraki in return for the promise of Westeros." Dany's heart quickened at this. She was to meet her potential husband soon and the deal was to be struck - a bride for a throne.

"You know the Clave doesn't interfere in mundane affairs. We hardly intervene with downworlders. The Accords must be upheld. The Rebellion nearly cost us everything."

"So you would let the Dothraki possess a girl with the blood of the dragon?"

"What would you have me do, Magister? Whisk her away to Idris? Confine her to the Gard?" A chair scraped the carpeted floor and she could hear the woman pacing.

Illyrio raised his voice from the hushed tones, betraying his frustration as he very rarely did. "I would have you protect her. As you should have protected her forebears - an entire race, gone! And now there are no more dragons. Is that not part of the Accords? Shadowhunters protect downworlders and mundanes alike."

Dany could hear the woman sigh. "If she is what you say she is, I will assign one of my own to her as lady-in-waiting. She is overdue for an assignment abroad anyway. But make no mistake, Magister, we will not intervene, only protect."

"You intend to send a shadowhunter into the Great Grass Sea with an undefeated Khal? Will she remain glamoured?" Dany was becoming more and more aware of how little she knew of what they were talking about.

"Unnecessary. Anyone who knows to question her runes will be silenced or at least treated as a threat to the princess. Aline is the best the Volantis Institute has."

"Aline. You would send your own daughter?"

"If this girl is what you say, then there is no one else I would trust. She must be properly watched and trained. There are rumors of remaining Circle members hidden throughout Essos. They would kill for one with her power. You were there. You know how Valentine sought to use their line to end our world. As I said, the Rebellion nearly cost us everything. It will not happen again."

Dany stepped away from the door. The woman had seemed strange when she'd been escorted quickly to Illyrio, dressed in all black leathers, despite the intense heat of Pentos, but the tattoos over her exposed skin had marked her as a kind of woman Dany had never encountered before. A shadowhunter based on what she had just heard, willing to send her own daughter into the horde of Dothraki to keep Dany safe from some threat she had never heard of. Downworlders, Idris, Clave, Valentine, Circle - these were foreign words to Daenerys. But being in danger was not unfamiliar. That was a word that had followed her from the womb.

She took the steps back to her borrowed rooms gracefully, stopping to admire the gardens beneath her. She knew this was all going to be gone soon and she would be living among a people her brother disdainfully called barbarians. She'd gladly read every book in any language Illyrio lent her on the Dothraki. She was bracing herself for a violent wedding and was grateful that she'd learned to ride a horse young. He brother's impatient steps clicked behind her, followed by the Magister's heavily padded shoes.

Dany turned holding her head as she'd been taught, regal and proud, feeling trapped between her door and the group at the foot of the stairs. Her brother joined her on the steps, facing down the Pentoshi and women accompanying him. Viserys grabbed her wrist tightly, lacing her arm over his. She smiled briefly at him, as he would have expected. The two women with Illyrio were both shadowhunters, based on what Dany had learned - the one from before and now one who could have been her sister, dressed in similar black leathers with the same rune tattoos.

Illyrio stopped a few steps below the Targaryen siblings, bowing low in that way that always pleased Viserys. "Your Grace, may I present Mistress Jia Penhallow of Volantis and her daughter Aline." He motioned toward the two women grandly as they bowed like trained soldiers.

Viserys sneered. "In Westeros, our women curtsy to show respect."

Jia's dark, narrow eyes drifted over him as if he were a curiosity. She stood upright, her pitch black hair falling straight down her back. "Forgive me, your grace. It's been quite some time since I spent any time in the company of Westerosi." She spoke the Common Tongue of Westeros flawlessly with only a slight accent.

Dany could feel her brother's rage growing at the woman's insolence and refusal to pay him absolute homage, as he believed he was due. She glanced at the younger shadowhunter. "We are honored to meet you both." She inclined her head to each of them even as her brother pinched her arm. That would leave a bruise. It took all Dany's effort not to sigh.

The Magister gestured again and Aline stepped forward. "Mistress Penhallow has offered her people's support to our cause and offers her daughter, Aline Penhallow, a warrior among their people, as guard and lady-in-waiting for the Princess Daenerys."

Jia locked eyes with Dany. "Please, consider this a gesture of good faith between my people and your own - the beginnings of a new alliance, if you will."

Viserys' eyes lit up at that. He was always plotting with Illyrio, trying to make political arrangements and alliances. But Dany had heard what they said. They weren't interested in her completely human brother, so they must have just been saying what needed to be said to get his approval of the arrangement. She felt slow at having to think through it, but glad that she was learning to play the game. Perhaps Aline could help her learn.

Her brother tugged her arm hard, nearly pulling her off-balance. They were descending the stairs. "We thank you for this show of loyalty and alliance, Mistress Penhallow. And, of course, my sister would be honored to have your daughter as her lady and guard."

Dany extended a hand to Aline who took it and bowed again in deference. "It is an honor, Your Grace."

* * *

"What do you keep staring at?" Simon turned to glance behind him. It was like he looked straight through the strange group she'd met on the library stairway earlier. You can see me, he'd said. Obviously, not everyone could, or the serving girls would be all over him with his Lannister-gold hair and mismatched eyes, like they were with the rest of the royal party.

"Nothing," she turned back to Simon and whatever story he was telling. Apparently, the little Princess Myrcella enjoyed his music and the queen had invited him to play in King's Landing. "I'm so excited for you! It's what you've always wanted, right?"

"Well," he drew out the word, "I don't really want to go without my best friend." Her face fell. She couldn't leave Winterfell - her mother, Luke - Lady Arya. "But it looks like we'll all be travelling south soon, so I don't have to worry about that!" He grinned that ridiculous grin of his.

Clary frowned. "What?"

"Seriously, Rivers, where have you been all day? Not chasing that direwolf around again, I hope. The King wants Lord Stark to be his new Hand and now we're all supposed to go south to King's Landing! I was playing for Sansa and all her ladies and the princess while they were doing their sewing or whatever it is ladies do, and it was all they could talk about. That, and the fact that Sansa is going to be betrothed to the Prince Joffrey. She's going to be queen one day. I thought she was going to fall over from sighing so hard."

Simon did a perfect impression of Lady Sansa and Clary giggled. "How miserable was my poor Lady Arya the whole time?"

"Oh it was like she couldn't get a stitch right. I thought the Septa was going to take her fingers off. She ran off partway through. Did she come find you?"

Clary shook her head. "She must have found Jon." The two looked down their table to the brooding bastard who was feeding his white wolf pup scraps.

He swayed a bit and Simon raised a brow, snapping his fingers. "Jon! You in there?"

Snow swiped his hand out of his face, quick as ever, even drunk on too much ale. "Aye. Just enjoying my time down here with you lot."

"Oh come off it, Jon," Clary snapped. "You could be stuck up there with the Lannisters." She lifted her chin toward the Queen and her brothers, heads held high. "We're much better company."

He glared at her and her musician friend. "I suppose so. A bastard, a minstrel, and my little sister's mysterious lady, who can fight with a short sword and wrangle direwolves. Quite the company indeed."

She scoffed. "Your mood leaves much to be desired, Jon Snow." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lord Bane still lounging, surrounded by a group a travelers ready to be regaled by his fanciful stories, not far from where they sat at the lower tables. His mock-Maester's chain hung around his neck ornately, decorative and jewels flashed from each of his fingers as his waved his hands for emphasis in his storytelling.

A drunken roar of laughter echoed from the high table. The King was full of wine and memories. This night was going to go downhill, fast. She decided she was going to ask some questions. She glanced at Simon and Jon. "Excuse me." She ignored the dumbfounded looks on both of their faces as she made her way across the Great Hall. Movement from the other side of the room followed her. So they were watching her too. She had suspected as much.

"Lord Bane, do you mind if I steal you away? I'm afraid we have some guests with urgent need of your guidance." The librarian's eyes focused on her as he halted his story of the time he tamed a fire-breathing cobra in Dorne.

His gaze flicked to the trio who were not far behind her and he smiled sweetly. "For you, Miss Clary, anything." He stood gallantly and motioned almost imperceptibly to the others to follow. They made their way back to the steps of the library tower where he rounded on them all. "Clarissa Rivers, what are you doing involving yourself with shadowhunter business? Surely, Luke and Jocelyn have both warned you about the dangers."

The tall one with dark hair stepped forward, as if to defend his group, but Lord Bane held up a hand, still glaring at Clary. She averted her gaze. "It wasn't like I was trying to get involved in anything. They showed up here. I just kept Nymeria from eating them."

He rolled his eyes dramatically, lowering his hand and acknowledging the shadowhunter, looking him over appreciatively. "Fine, pretty boy, what do you have to say? What were you doing wandering around unglamoured?"

The other two snickered. The girl, now dressed in something much less ornate, put a hand on the other man's shoulder, who seemed at a loss for words. "What my brother means to say is, we were glamoured - completely, not just our runes. She saw straight through it, her and that beast of a pup."

Lord Bane massaged his temples in exasperation. "Of course she did. I almost forgot your nameday had passed, Clary. Damn. So much for that contract."

Clary stared confusedly at the librarian and the three strangers. They seemed to have some kind of understanding that she was clearly missing. "I'm sorry, contract?"

"Yes, with your mother. But we'll discuss that after I've concluded my business with these lovely shadowhunters here. If Luke or Jocelyn find out I've allowed you to be involved in their affairs, I'll be finding myself a new position, far away from Winterfell, and, believe me, this one wasn't so easy to come by." He made a distasteful face, waving his hand like he could snatch another out of thin air, before turning on his heels and storming into his library.

The two dark haired shadowhunters followed quickly, with the golden one, Jace, close after. Clary decided she wanted to know what was happening and started toward the entrance.

Jace blocked her way faster than should have been possible. "You heard the warlock. He'll discuss his contract with your family after he's given us the information we need."

She set her jaw, the same way she did when Lady Arya was being particularly stubborn. "Glamours, runes, shadowhunters, warlock - you keep saying these words like I'm supposed to know what you're talking about, but I don't rightly care. If this discussion deals with the safety of the Stark family or my lady that I protect, I have a right to hear it."

The shadowhunter leaned back on the doorway, eyeing her with a blank expression before shrugging and entering, leaving the door open for her.

"What's she doing in here?"

"She was insistent."

"It's too late now, if we're going, we're going." Lord Bane stood in front of a swirling window of some kind, where Clary could see nothing but snow and trees on the other side. He snapped and waved his hands and they were through.

The three shadowhunters seemed completely unphased by having been transported from the safety of Winterfell to the Seven knew where. But Clary turned, trying to see the keep or a village or anything other than trees or snow for as far as she could see ahead of her. Behind them, however, was something she had only ever heard of in stories. The Wall was taller than she had even imagined. She knew the legends said that Bran the builder used magic to construct it. Based on what she was seeing, she had to believe it.

"You couldn't warn us before dragging us out beyond the Wall?" The girl shadowhunter's raven hair was flecked with snow. "All your letter said was ice demons have been sighted and wolves are getting more bold. The Clave doesn't have any record of any ice demons, up north or otherwise." Her hazel eyes glinted with fury. "If you portaled us out here to freeze our asses off just to make a point to the Clave, you are in for a rude awakening, warlock."

Clary's teeth were chattering. She was still dressed for the feast. The taller shadowhunter noticed her. "Great. Now the mundane is going to freeze to death on our watch. Mother's going to be so pleased."

Bane and the woman were still arguing, but Jace made quick strides over to her, pulling out a metal object from a holster near his thigh. It was like something her mother kept above the hearth in their home, not quite a weapon but something about it radiated a power she felt like she knew. Both she and the other shadowhunter eyed him warily as he approached her with it.

"Jace, don't."

"Trust me, Alec." He grabbed her hand and pushed the sleeve of her dress up gently to press the cool metal to the inside of her forearm. Suddenly there was a searing pain before warmth flooded through her, obscuring any cold from the snow. Her eyes widened as they met his - one blue, one golden brown. He smirked at her, raising his brows in a quick motion, dropping her hand, and flipping the object down into its holster again faster than she could follow.

She stood in obvious shock with words feeling caught in her throat. The tall shadowhunter - Alec, grabbed her wrist and examined it. "How the fuck did you know? You could have killed her!"

His raised voice grabbed the attention of the others. Lord Bane hovered over the shadowhunter's shoulder, strangely close while staring down at Clary. His sister moved to stare at her wrist and then up at her face. "Look at her, big brother, she's in shock. She has no idea what's happening." She tugged Clary's wrist out of her brother's grip and pulled her to her side. "I'm Isabelle. The boys call me Izzy. The grumpy one is Alec and the one who almost just killed you," she shot a pointed glare over her shoulder, "is Jace. It looks like you're one of us. So the question is, Jace, how did you know?"

He shrugged with his arms crossed as the rest turned on him. "I saw her carrying a runed blade earlier. Between that and her ability to see through our glamour, it was a safe bet."

Lord Bane pushed past Alec and grabbed Clary away from Izzy. "Oh, a safe bet? What if she had been a mundane with the Sight? Then, not only would we be beyond the Wall with nothing but the three of you and my magic, but we would also be potentially facing a wight. Something I'm not too keen on right now." He put an arm protectively over her shoulder as he marched her past Jace. "So why don't you save your gambles for the jousts, hmm?" He kept moving through to snow into the treeline. "Come on, pretty boy. Try to keep your siblings in line on our way, will you? Can't have them killing FreeFolk by runing them or something."

Clary heard Izzy laugh and she turned to see Jace and Alec exchange confused looks. Jace raised his hands in surrender, motioning for the others to go ahead of him. The others caught up quickly, giving Clary and Bane a respectable berth.

Alec glanced sideways at them a few times. "Lord Bane, your letter said mundanes. You neglected to mention they were wildlings reporting these things."

"Oh please, you and I both know I'm no lord of anything. It keeps the mundanes from asking too many questions. It's Magnus, please."

Clary was caught under Magnus' arm, between him and the shadowhunter and was forced to look up from one to the other as they spoke. She could see his face and he almost seemed unable to rephrase his question for a moment. She felt the need to blush for him. Bane was always so forward.

"Alright then, Magnus. You neglected to inform the Clave that it was wildlings that were reporting these supposed ice demons and wolves."

Magnus practically glowed with mischief. "If I had told dear Maryse who was making the reports, would she have sent you?" He glared at the siblings. "No. I would have been left to deal with the growing threat with the sparse downworld resources we have in the north. They sent raiders over the wall to reach me, not to pillage or plunder, just to get word to us southerners that the White Walkers are coming. The stories these wildlings could tell-" he broke off. Clary felt him shiver.

Isabelle was holding her skirts as they stepped over branches. "So your saying there're White Walkers out here, ice demons frightening enough to send the wildlings over the wall to you."

Jace piped up from behind them. "I think he's saying he wants us to hear it from them. But what about the wolves?"

"You didn't mean the direwolves? They're only pups! And Luke is helping the Stark children train them." Clary pulled ahead of the rest of the group, turning to face them, though none would meet her glare.

Alec crossed his arms at the delay. "No, not those beasts the Starks call pets. What do the FreeFolk call them? Skin-changers?"

Magnus watched him curiously, but nodded. "Indeed. You see, the FreeFolk are not as closed minded as those south of the Wall. Downworlders often move about openly among them, but an entire pack making an alliance with mundanes... This is unheard of."

Isabelle scoffed, resuming her pace through the trees, deciding they had answered enough of Clary's questions. "This is insanity. You've dragged us up here for superstitious wildling nonsense."

Her brothers followed, but Magnus gave Clary an affronted grimace. "I'm so glad Maryse sent her children. So charming."

She snickered and turned to follow after the trio of shadowhunters, the warlock matching her stride. She nearly ran directly into Jace - again. They'd stopped at the edge of the treeline. Spread out beneath them was a valley full of campfires, warding off the northern cold.

"You didn't say we were walking into a military encampment." Alec shot a glare over his shoulder.

Magnus shrugged. "It's not. It's an evacuation."

* * *

Jon made his way out into the snow, closely followed by Ghost, escaping the noise from the Hall that was echoing in his drunk skull and the humiliation that had been his encounter with his uncle Benjen. He replayed the tripping and falling over his own drunken feet on the way out and groaned again.

"That fun in there, Jon?" he turned to face Lucian Garroway, captain of Winterfell's guard.

He winced. "Oh yeah, a right proper feast, complete with drunken humiliation."

Luke nodded, crouching down and holding out his hand to Ghost. All the other Stark children had allowed his help with training their direwolves, but Jon wanted to train Ghost all on his own. "I take it you and Ghost here weren't up at table with your siblings, then." He made a pleased sound as Ghost shifted closer and allowed him to stroke his snout, not needing Jon's reply.

Jon watched curiously. Ghost seemed to almost like the soldier. "No we sat with Clary and Simon."

He glanced up at the mention of his daughter's name. "Have you seen Clary? I would ask Simon but he had been called upon to play by our very intoxicated King."

They both laughed. "Aye. She went with Lord Bane to discuss something. Interrupted his favorite story about the Dornish snake too."

Lucian stood suddenly. "Was she with anyone?"

Another voice answered from above them. "If you're speaking of the lovely red-head, I believe she was with a trio of our travelling party. Don't ask me their names, though. I couldn't tell you. Light-something, I think. It was a bit of an ordeal when their mother requested they join our group."

Lucian muttered a curse. "You'll have to excuse me. I believe I'm going to have business to attend to." He inclined his head. "M'lord."

Jon watched him stalk away toward the homes built along the walls, likely to tell Clary's mother of what he'd just learned.

"So this is one of the infamous direwolves I've heard so much about. And you must be Ned Stark's bastard." Lord Tyrion Lannister sauntered over to Jon and Ghost awkwardly in the snow. Jon grimaced at his use of the word. "Did I offend you? Sorry, dwarfs don't have to be tactful. You are the bastard, though."

Jon felt himself sober a bit. "Lord Eddard Stark is my father," he admitted stiffly.

Tyrion eyed him as if he were a particular curiosity. "Allow me to give you some counsel, Jon Snow. Never forget what you are - the rest of the world surely won't. Make it your strength," he tilted his head slightly as if remembering something, "and then it can never be your weakness."

The ringing in Jon's head was really and truly gone now. He glared at the Lord standing in front of him and his wolf. "And what would a Lord of Lannister know of being a bastard?"

The dwarf smirked. "All dwarfs are bastards in their father's eyes."

Jon felt his head go fuzzy again and Tyrion turned to go back into the feast. It was then he realized Clary had gone up the steps alone with Bane. Who had Lord Tyrion been talking about?

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