𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙

09- The Wall Beckons

The snow was falling in thick, heavy flakes, blurring the world into a soft, white haze. Alyssa and Daelyra rode in silence, the chill seeping into their bones despite the thick furs they wore. Their horses moved slowly, their hooves crunching through the freshly fallen snow, while the dense forest pressed in on all sides.

The wind had died down, leaving an eerie stillness in its wake. The only sound was their breathing and the occasional creak of leather as they adjusted in their saddles.

Alyssa's eyes scanned the landscape, the unease from before still prickling at her senses. There was something about the North that felt alive in ways she could not fully explain, as if the land itself was watching, waiting.

Beside her, Daelyra rode with her usual quiet intensity, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her sword, ever alert. The road had narrowed to little more than a trail now, the trees thickening as they traveled further northward.

Every branch was heavy with snow, and the pale light of day barely filtered through the dense canopy overhead. It was as if the North itself was closing in on them, wrapping them in its cold embrace.

Suddenly, Daelyra stiffened beside her. "We're not alone," she muttered, her sharp eyes darting to the tree line ahead. Alyssa pulled her horse to a halt, her heart quickening as she followed her friend's gaze.

At first, she saw nothing—only the endless stretch of white and the shadows of the trees—but then she noticed movement. Figures, dark against the snow, emerging from the woods ahead.

They were cloaked in black, their faces obscured by hoods, but there was no mistaking the men who wore those colors. "The Night's Watch," Alyssa whispered, her breath a puff of mist in the frigid air.

There were a group of them, moving swiftly through the snow with a grace that came from years of living in the North's harshest conditions. Their leader, a tall man with a weathered face and a scar that cut across his head, stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"Halt!" the man commanded, his voice rough but firm. "State your business." Alyssa and Daelyra exchanged a quick glance. This was not an encounter they had expected, but they were no strangers to the Night's Watch and the weight their presence carried in the North.

These men were sworn to defend the realm from the dangers beyond the Wall, but they were also notorious for their suspicion of strangers, especially those with southern blood.

Alyssa nudged her horse forward, pulling back the hood of her cloak to reveal her face. "We are travelers, heading north," she said calmly, her voice carrying across the stillness of the forest. "We mean no harm."

The man's eyes narrowed as he studied her, taking in the silver hair that marked her as a Targaryen. His gaze shifted briefly to Daelyra, who remained silent, her hand still resting on her sword.