Loki: Winds of Winter

Chapter 20 - The Wight Walkers Take Control

The Night King stared down at the trembling human before him. He had commanded his forces to capture a mortal and bring them to him to learn. He needed knowledge if he was to conquer this world. Westeros had been separated from the rest of the realms for so long; so many things had to have changed. Now, they were concealing themselves in the forests surrounding the Swiss Alps, waiting as they gathered intel and prepared to move their force. The human they had apprehended was forest patrolman, and he had surprisingly been the only person they had come across since they arrived. "What do you want? What are you?!" the man asked in a terrified voice and in German. The Night King narrowed his cold blue eyes and reached out, placing a hand on the man's face: his pointer by his eye, his thumb near his mouth, and his other fingers latching over his ear. The man's mouth opened and a piercing scream escaped, only to be smothered by another Wight Walker, who was standing behind him. The Night King tilted his head from side to side, his eyes now closed as he used his dark magic to comprehend this human's language. The poor forest patrolman's veins became more prominent, and turned an ashy blue. The veins leached down his neck and behind his ear. His eyes eventually shifted to the same icy blue that the Night King's were. 

"Where do you humans keep your powerful weapons?" the Night King asked. 

"Nuclear missiles... everywhere... all over the world," the patrolman answered in a monotone voice. 

"How destructive are they?" the Night King asked.

"Entire cities gone... armies... nonexistent," the patrolman responded.

"How do I eliminate them as a threat?" the Night King queried.

"Fire them into space," was the simple reply. The Night King nodded.

"And do you know how to do that?"

"No. Only high ups in the military or the scientists might know," the patrolman answered. The Night King nodded before he stabbed the forest patrolman in the chest. The man doubled over and gasped before he dropped onto the ground. The Night King watched him for a moment before the man rose up, his eyes icy blue. 

"Take us where we need to go" the Night King informed the newly turned patrolman. 

Ragna watched from an alleyway as Rhaenar, who was now disguised as a woman in Midgardian clothes, walked into a retail store to get her some garments. Ragna watched with some mild distaste as she observed the mortals walk passed her. She saw a group of female youths go by in short skirts, and skimpy tops. "Dumme sluter. Ikke rart at alle ønsker å erobre denne verden (Stupid sluts. No wonder everyone wants to conquer this world)," Ragna muttered under her breath. That was when she turned around and Rhaenar was standing right in front of her, a shopping bag in his hand. "If you purchased something for me that is shameful for a woman to wear, I will skewer you with Frostskader," she threatened. 

"Relax, fair sister. I got you something that is respectable for a maiden to wear," Rhaenar told her as he handed her the plastic bag. Ragna wrinkled her nose as she opened the bag. Inside was a pair of faux leather pants with a dark grey tank top. Mesh, elbow high gloves and a leather jacket, completed with a pair of combat boots. Ragna threw the gloves back at Rhaenar. 

"I'm not a 'goth'," she said as she hid behind the screen he conjured for her. 

"I don't know. You 'emote' that aura sometimes," Rhaenar pointed out with a wink as he shielded them from mortal eyes. 

"You have a satchel I can store my Westerosi accoutrements in?" Ragna posed as she reappeared in disguise.

"I have a magical satchel that will conceal all your clothes and your weapons, including your cleaver," Rhaenar responded.

"It's a claymore, not a cleaver. Have some respect for the weapon that has a part of Grandpa Stark's sword melded into it," Ragna said as she handed her weapons to her brother to put in the satchel. She could not place her hand in the bag, nor would she be able to get them back out; Rhaenar would have to do that. Rhaenar nodded his head a little at her statement. The famous sword of Ned Stark: Ice, had been taken from him in Kings Landing and used to execute him. Not long after Loki had rescued Sansa from Joffrey's clutches, he liberated Ice before it could be melted down and reforged for the Lannisters. Loki kept it to himself for years, waiting until the heirs of many of the Starks were old enough to have weapons. That was when he presented the three leading Stark descendants with blades: Eddard II, son of Robb Stark, received a sword he christened Godswill. Bradyn Stark-Targaryen, son of Jon Stark-Targaryen called his weapon Cold Scale. And finally, Ragna Frostborn, daughter of Loki Frostborn, received her claymore called Frostskader, the Frostbite. They were named the Triumvirate, Draegon Targaryen's chosen generals. 

Ragna lightly brushed along Frostskader's blade before passing it reverently to her brother. Rhaenar carefully put it in the bag before he sealed it with magic and handed it to her. Ragna slung it across her back and her brother dropped the magical shield, and they stepped out into the street. A few people glanced at them, but otherwise, nobody paid them any attention. As they were walking down the street, all the lights in the shops flickered briefly, going in and out. Ragna and Rhaenar paused, watching as everyone reacted as was expected, mildly panicking. "What's going on?" Ragna asked and Rhaenar hesitated beside her, reaching out with his magic.

"It's them," he said.

"Are they affecting the power that controls the lighting here? What's it called? Electricity?" Ragna suggested.

"Yes, there are centers for every city that control the power that surges through the lines. If these places are affected, the lights go out. Electricity also helps them communicate. Without power to run it, no communication, which means-" Rhaenar started to explain.

"No means of warning anyone. It has begun. Cut off contact, divide, and conquer. We have to hurry and find them, brother," Ragna said as she and Rhaenar started to walk faster. 

The Night King opened his eyes as he pulled his hand out of the power coil of the electrical center. Ice spread rapidly and with insidious desire. He watched as it squeezed life and heat out of every wire. He turned and faced the workers, who now had chalky skin and cold blue eyes. He waved his hand and they retreated to join his swelling ranks. He was here, and the other Wight Walkers had spread out, taking a portion of the army with them. They had a plan and they would subjugate this world, turning it into a kingdom of endless darkness and snow. That was, after all, his purpose and his only desire.

Suddenly, the Night King halted, feeling a heat that he had not sensed before. His cold magic reached out towards it, gently prodding it. His sensory magic was forced back upon him, repelled by a strong force. He smiled. He had only felt it for a few seconds, but he was able to decipher it. It was Targaryen heat!