Knights, nobles, kings all of them are nothing but actors playing their parts. Knights pretend to be righteous, yet their code of honor and solemn oaths mean nothing. All of it fades the moment a pouch of coins lands before them. Nobles are no better they speak beautiful words in public, but the moment you turn your back, the knife is already raised, and blood begins to flow. And kings? They're the greediest of all. Rivers of blood are but a price they're willing to pay for their "truth." No matter who sits on the throne, no matter who wears the crown they all crave the same thing: to cling to power for as long as they can, crushing anything that threatens their rule.
My truth is simple: never speak words you can't keep and serve the one who pays the most.
Chapter 1
Never in my life did I think I'd end up in Game of Thrones.The worst part? The place I landed in. Though honestly, it could've been worse. As long as luck's on my side, I'll find a way to change things but that doesn't make it any easier. I found myself beyond the Wall, in the heart of endless frost, among the outcasts. Sure, I'd seen a few episodes of the show, heard a bunch of spoilers but none of that prepared me for what this world really was.
On the bright side, one thing here works in my favor: bloodline means almost nothing. What matters is your strength, your skills, and your will to survive. My memories didn't return right away only when I nearly died. Once, I fell through the ice. The freezing water burned through my mind, and in that moment, the past came rushing back like a raging river. That's when I realized just how deep a pit I'd fallen into.
They saved me barely. After that, they called me The Unsinkable more mockery than praise. Even the coldest waters couldn't finish me off, but the aftermath was brutal: a whole month bedridden, unable to move.
But enough of that. What came next was simple I grew stronger. Most of the Free Folk had bodies hardened by nature itself, and that was our true advantage. In a land where beasts the size of houses could end your life in one blow, strength was your greatest ally. Even Stark wouldn't argue with that.
At twelve, I was given my first weapon a crude axe, just a lump of iron tied to a wooden handle. Along with it came my trial: to hunt and bring back my first kill, proving I was a man. I never liked the Free Folk's traditions, but I had to follow them though the memories of my past life kept me from truly becoming one of them.
Then came the hunt. The bigger the prey, the greater the respect and the fewer chores or orders from the elders. So I aimed high: a direwolf. Dangerous predator, hunts in packs. Attacking a whole pack meant certain death but I had a plan.
I'd trap small game first, use it as bait, then wait for a wolf to take interest. With luck, one would fall into my trap. I had two days after that, my clan would be moving on.
We never stayed in one place for long, roaming across the lands beyond the Wall. Our life followed the herds of reindeer that kept us alive meat, fur, and bone. They endured the cold better than we did, but they always needed new pastures. Life on the move was hard, but I'd gotten used to it.
I dug a small hollow in the snow, enough for shelter, and lit a tiny fire inside, trying to steal a bit of warmth. I still can't get used to this damned cold. One day, I'll head south anywhere, as long as it's far from the Wall.
Once I was warm enough, I crawled out and covered the entrance with pine branches.
Life in such harsh lands has one undeniable advantage fear for your life dulls over time.
Here, every single day is a fight for survival, and that struggle hardens you. The tribes scattered around these lands would do anything just to live another day. Their mindset, their hunger for freedom all of it started to shape me too. Maybe I've become more of a wildling than I'd like to admit. Maybe I've already started to get used to this life.
The frozen breath of winter fills your lungs; the wind cuts through your skin like a blade. Snow covers everything, giving the world back to nature.
My plan was simple enough. I might not have been the smartest back in my old life, but I always liked learning new things and survival, hunting, bushcraft… those were among them. The local hunters preferred to chase prey through the woods, screaming and waving spears in what they called a "hunt." Alright, maybe I'm exaggerating a bit otherwise, they'd never catch anything.
As for my trap, its mechanism was straightforward. I dug a small pit in the snow, placed some food inside, tied one end of a rope to a nearby tree, and made a loop. The loop would tighten the moment the prey began to move. Then I covered the rope with a layer of snow. The animal would stick its nose in to eat and that would be the end of it.
I carefully brushed away all traces of my presence and moved far from the traps. Of course, one trap alone was nearly useless what were the odds of success? So I made several to raise my chances. I had enough rope and bait for two. Now all that was left was to wait.
When I returned to my little shelter, I cleared the entrance and crawled back inside. Finding a good spot and setting the traps had taken more than half the day.
Sitting in the hollow I'd dug for myself, surrounded by endless snow, I started to realize something this was my new life. A life on the edge of the world.I didn't even know what year it was anymore. Hard to tell time here and even harder to know whether you should fear tomorrow. Would I die to the hands of the dead? Or would it take decades before they reached this far north? So far, the only world I'd seen was my tribe, living in isolation and avoiding outsiders.
"To hell with worrying. If I die, I'll take a couple of corpses with me," I muttered under my breath.
Why waste nerves on what you can't change? If you can do something act. If not accept it. That's all there is to it.
Let's say I actually live long enough to come of age and head south. Then what? I'm not going to spend my life as some petty hunter, selling furs for scraps. No way. A knight? Sounds noble but broke. Most of them live one step from starvation, clinging to pride as their only treasure.
A mercenary? Now that sounds more like it. Probably the only path that truly fits me. Too bad I don't have any real skills yet. Crafting or running a business? Way too complicated. I don't know a thing about production or trade. Well, except for one thing my grandpa taught me how to brew moonshine like a pro.
Funny enough, that's what ruined me. A bit of drinking and suddenly, my life went straight off a cliff.
And once again, it all comes down to gold. To make money, you need money.
My little fire had almost burned out meaning about two hours had passed.Stepping outside, I saw the sky turning gray. Night was coming fast. I had to check the traps before it got dark. With luck, something might've taken the bait.
Moving through the forest, I kept my eyes sharp. Never forget caution. If something had been caught, its whining could've drawn predators. I had to stay alert and move fast.
The first trap was empty. The creature had eaten the bait and escaped unharmed. Judging by the tracks, that happened about an hour ago. I gathered the rope and neatly coiled it into my leather pouch too valuable to waste.
The second trap, though, worked better. A small animal was struggling, jerking around, trying to break free. I pressed it to the ground and tied its legs gently so it couldn't run. I wasn't going to kill it tonight fresh blood might lure bigger hunters my way.
Tying the catch to my belt, I headed toward the third trap, hoping for one more bit of luck.
I didn't expect much but it seemed the gods had blessed me with a decent meal. Another rabbit.
I'd never caught this much in my life. Usually, I was lucky to get one every few weeks and now, two in a single day.
Covering the eyes of the first rabbit tied to my belt, I walked farther away to skin the fresh kill. Doing it near my shelter was too risky blood could draw predators. Once done, I headed back, keeping low and quiet. Out here, lingering in the open too long could make you the prey.
Finally reaching my snow den, I started cutting the meat and prepping it for the fire. After such a long day, I could barely wait to eat. Sitting by the flames, I breathed in the aroma of roasted meat with almost religious hunger. The only disappointment no salt. I had none left, and the herbs I'd gathered couldn't replace it, not completely.
When the meat was done, I tore it apart carefully, savoring every bite.
Exhaustion began to creep in. I checked the ropes on the rabbits one last time, lay down on my bed of pine needles, and closed my eyes. Sleep took me quickly deep, heavy, merciful.
The next morning, I set out toward the territory of the direwolves.There was a chance they wouldn't all come as a pack maybe I'd face one or two at most. One, I could handle. Two? Probably not.
The best plan was to prepare the trap ahead of time. I found a good spot guided by their droppings and claw marks on the trees.
On the ground, I laid sharpened branches and started digging a pit. When that was done, I drove in the stakes, one after another, and sharpened them again for good measure. Then I gathered spruce branches, laid them over the pit, and covered everything with snow. For a marker, I left a single stick in the ground the only sign of what lay beneath.
When the trap was ready, I struck a spark with flint and lit a small fire. From it, I burned a bunch of dry herbs their smoke would mask my scent. Direwolves were clever, too clever, and had fooled men before. My life was worth a bit of overkill.
I took a handful of herbs from my pouch and set them smoldering. As soon as their aroma filled the air, I slit the rabbit's throat and let the blood drip into the trap, then placed the body there. The rope tied to its hind leg was looped around my belt.
When everything was ready, I climbed a nearby tree to wait.
In the most dangerous part of the hunt, I froze in place, trying to melt into the surroundings. The scent of pine made me nearly invisible to the wolves, and the branches hid me well enough. The only thing that could give me away was sound so I didn't make a single one.
The sun crept over the horizon, but no wolves came. I started to think the plan had failed and was ready to climb down when I decided to wait just a little longer.
Then, out of nowhere, one appeared.
A direwolf stepped from the woods its fur pure white, blending perfectly with the snow. If it hadn't come so close, I'd have never noticed it. A mutation, maybe? Most direwolves were gray or russet, sometimes black but never this.
It circled the trap several times, cautious, deliberate. Finally, it took a step forward then another and then, with a crack, it fell straight through.
A pained howl ripped through the forest. And that's when I realized my mistake.
He wasn't alone.
In the distance, shadows moved a whole pack emerging from the trees. My only chance of survival was to stay absolutely still. If they spotted me, I was finished. Either I'd starve to death up here… or they'd tear me apart before nightfall.
The wolves gathered around the pit, snarling, snapping, pacing. Their glowing eyes gleamed like embers in the dark. I never prayed much, but in that moment, I begged every god I could think of that they wouldn't notice me. Maybe the pine smoke would fool them. Maybe.
At first, there was only terror. Then it dulled into exhaustion.The night dragged on forever. I didn't make a sound but my body was screaming. My muscles ached from sitting motionless on the branch, and my eyes burned from the cold.
Several times, I nearly drifted off, but each time I forced myself awake. I clung to consciousness, praying the wolves would finally leave.
At some point, I must have passed out.
I woke to sharp pain on my face. Opening my eyes, I saw a crow staring back at me. The damn thing had decided I was dead and tried to take a bite. I swung my arm, shooing it away.
"Filthy thing," I muttered, then froze listening, afraid the wolves were still near.
But the forest was silent. They were gone.
Slowly, I began to move again. My joints cracked, stiff and cold. I climbed down from the tree, keeping my eyes on the treeline.Reaching the pit, I saw the white direwolf impaled on the stakes below.
I let out a shaky breath and pulled the body up with all my strength.It was heavy, far heavier than I expected. I slung the carcass over a branch and looped the rope around my shoulder to drag it home. I needed to get out of there fast. If the pack returned, I'd be next.
Bringing a direwolf back to the tribe would earn me more than just food it would bring me respect. No one would look down on me again. They'd finally see me as a man, someone worth listening to.
I had ideas ways to make life easier for the tribe but no one ever cared.
"The boy doesn't understand a damn thing," they said.
Maybe after this hunt… they'd start listening.
That's why I took the risk hunting a direwolf. No other prey would have paid off like that. Even the seasoned hunters steered clear of those beasts, knowing their vengeful streak. They could track an offender for miles and strike when the moment of weakness came. There were tales of them following a quarry for months.
A few paces from the pit, I covered the tracks with branches and burned some herbs to throw them off the scent. Of course, prints still marked the snow, but I hoped the wind would blur them.
I moved a good half-day's distance from the hunting ground.
When I get back I'll lie down by the fire, scoop up a bowl of stew my mother made, and eat until I can't move. Yes I had parents. Formally. I knew they did care for me in their own way, but their mindset left little room for tenderness. I didn't feel loved, yet that didn't stop us from being a family.
I never tried to persuade them to head south with me I knew they'd refuse. Forcing them? What could be worse? Maybe someday I'll convince them, but not now. Though father could have stayed. That bastard had nearly broken my bones more than once. His answer to anything a snot-nosed kid might know was always a fist. Conversations with him ended quickly and painfully. I couldn't stand up to him he was nearly two meters of muscle with fists the size of my shoulders, and I could barely reach his belly. No I didn't get his height.
I did love my mother, even if her methods of raising children were… unique. Then again, around here they pound lessons into you with physical pain.
UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!
And now this this is fucked.