Game of Thrones: Short stories.

The Brethren - Part 1 - Beric x Reader

"This is ridiculous." Thoros complained, as he and Beric made their way further up the mountain. The heavy hot breath of their horses mixing with the mist that surrounded the pair. A mist that seemed to be getting thicker by the minute.

"We don't even know if these so called "Brethren" exist. And even if they do, there is no guarantee that they won't kill us, never, mind agree to help. I think that Jon has sent us on a wild goose chase." Thoros continued to grumble. The priest pulling his cloak tighter around himself as it suddenly seemed to get colder.

Beric and Thoros had been travelling for days. The difficult terrain taking its toll on even the two battle hardened warriors. Beric had agreed to journey up into the floating mountains in an attempt to find a clan that were simply known as The Brethren.

Legend had it that The Brethren were the worst of the worst. A band of cut throats that were originally said to have been Iron Island pirates that would pillage the mainland. That like House Greyjoy, they could trace their bloodlines back to the loyal men of the Grey King during the age of heroes; but when the Ironborn had been driven back to the Iron Islands following the burning of Harrenhal, and the deaths of King Harren Hoare and his sons, a group had managed to escape, choosing to head high up into the bleak mountains of the north rather than return to the windswept, barren shores of the Islands. Since then, few had dared to venture to the lofty peaks, most fearing the formidable reputation of a clan that very few had ever seen.

In desperation, Jon had called on volunteers to hunt down some of the greatest warriors that the Seven Kingdom's, and the lands beyond, had to offer. And while Jorah and Sandor had been sent off to find a witch, Tormund and Gendry to locate someone, or something called the Beast Queen, Beric had decided that he and Thoros would venture up into the high peaks to find out if the legends of the Brethren were true.

"Why did you agree to this in the first place?" Thoros asked. Beric rolling his eye as his old friend continued to complain.

"Now Thoros. Ya can't tell me, that you of all people aren't even just a little curious about this clan? They are the stuff of legend, supposedly tha descendants of some of tha most feared men to ever sail the seas. I'd a thought that ya intellectual curiosity would have got the better of ya. And despite the fact that ya killed a few Ironborn at the Siege of Pyke, I thought out of all of us, you and I would be the best to talk to them." Beric said with a slight chuckle, as he himself shivered against the freezing cold wind.

"The only thing gettin the better of me, is this fuckin mist. I swear that I could cut it with my sword. How are we to know whether we are on the right track or not? In this shit we could walk right past them and not know. For contrary to popular opinion, even an Ironborn can be quite and sneaky." Thoros continued, waving his hand in front of his face in a pointless attempt to make the ever encroaching haze, disappear.

Beric had to admit that the Red Priest had a point, and that given the fact that he could now barely see his hand in front of his face, the Lord of Blackhaven decided that discretion was the better part of valour and that it may pay to rest rather than face a foe that they couldn't see, or as Thoros had pointed out, pass the very people that they were looking for.

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Beric and Thoros sat around the fire, their horses shielding the pair from a wind that seemed to whip around the lofty peaks unabated.

"Do we even know what we are looking for? We have all been sent out to look for these legendary people that only the Lord of Light himself would know if they are real, all in hopes that they will agree to join us in a fight against a foe that most people don't want to believe even exist." Thoros mussed, blowing on his hands as another gust of freezing air rushed towards the two friends.