The Northern Mountains

~One~

one

High amongst a plethora of barren, snowy mountains at the northern tip of Middle Earth, lay a beautiful, stone castle belonging to a lonely Queen with power beyond compare. Alone she sat in her home, with small, strange servants and a quiet deity who followed her every wish, though they were far and few in between.

The flame haired beauty could not tell how low long she had lived, nor could she recall any memory from before first meeting her cloaked saviour. She would often laze on the one armed settee in front of the blazing fire kept alive by the little creatures, surrounded by her immense library whilst finding enjoyment in the many stories held within.

Hartlyn Black would sometimes ask the shade like deity, how long had passed since he saved her from that cold, emptiness she could remember. As somehow... years became decades and decades became centuries. But it wasn't until one night, when the cloaked deity studied her with an intensity that she could feel digging into her flesh, despite the black hood hiding his face, as if he could see the emptiness she felt in her soul and he disappeared in a cloud of darkness.

A week later, he was back and he presented her with a large beast. It's fur, as black as a starless night and eyes more blue than a cloudless day. She, as the Queen soon discovered, was beautiful.

But again, after several more decades, the yearning ache for more soon filled her. Not because she grew bored with her gorgeous wolf, no, because the woman felt like she was missing something else. Another thing she could sense about herself was her magical core, as powerful as it is, growing in strength and becoming unstable.

It was so painful...

This made the deity worry for his Mistress, as he called Hartlyn. And he now believed that she needed more than her beloved Morrigan. She needed the company of a friend. A lover. A soulmate.

He left her once more, for longer this time, searching for the person, be they man or woman, in every world for the yin to her yang and perhaps even a mate for the direwolf.

It took the deity exactly 412 years to find him. The one man who would finally make his Mistress happy. He, however, had just been killed, and the gods of his world were approaching ever so quickly.

The deity had slaughtered gods before, and these gods, knew exactly who he was, letting him take the dying man wherever he wanted him to be without a second thought, fearing for their own lives.

For death... death consumes all.

:3

The last thing Jon Snow remembered was having multiple swords sink painfully into his chest and blood pouring from his body as he collapsed to the freezing, frost covered ground that was quickly turning red, the life draining from his eyes. After what he had suffered from through his life, the bastard was sure that death would finally bring him peace.

But as the darkness closed in on him while he stared up at the quickly fading light of day, he was suddenly kneeling before a large figure dressed in a black, torn shroud. He turned his head slightly, hearing a familiar growl, to see his direwolf Ghost, the last memory he had of being a Stark.

Jon, refusing to show just how nervous he was, looked back to the... thing in front of him and in his rough voice, asked, "What are you?"

A rumble left the figure's 'chest', something vaguely resembling a laugh, "I am Death."

It's scratchy, slight masculine tone made the man shiver slightly.

"I want to offer you something." The thing continued.

The former Night's Watchman rose a scarred eyebrow, his still bloodied face showing caution, "And that is?"

This time the cloaked figure hummed, thoughtfully.

"My Mistress is lonely in her barren castle. She is in need of a companion." it murmured with an amused tone, telling him only a half-truth.

"You're offering me another life if I were to befriend your Mistress? Someone you serve." The black haired man asked, imagining a selfish and prideful elderly hag.

The Being nodded slowly, "I am. But not in this world, Jon Snow. Somewhere else, somewhere with several different creatures to that of your world. Your direwolf would join you, of course. I'm not so cruel to part man and his best friend."

Despite himself and his situation, Jon snorted softly with amusement, dragging a gloved hand through his tangled curls.

"She will be cautious. Wary and distrusting. But I do believe the two of you will get along famously," Death said a tone self assurance threaded through his voice, "Now come. There is much to do."

The Being snapped his bone like fingers that man only just noticed now, and Jon immediately felt like he was pushed through a tiny metal tube, the crack echoing in his ears.

:3

Hartlyn really didn't know why she sat in the empty hall atop her throne. It was pointless. No one ever visited her. Besides, the redhead would rather be amongst her old books, relishing in the scent of them and the crackling fire.

She began to stare off into the distance, her mind wandering when suddenly... out of nowhere... a bloodied man and a white direwolf crumbled to the stone floor in front of her.

The Mistress took in a sharp breath, startled by his appearance in her hall and with a quick glance of his handsome, rough features, as well as the beast beside him, Hartlyn threw her hands up and with a burst of magic, sent the two of them into a magically locked room in her castle.

:3

Jon was a bit startled.

Okay, a lot startled.

First, he was dead and somehow talking to a being who's literal name was Death, offering him to live again as long as he kept a queen company. The man had assumed she would be an old woman who would be snobbish and rude, believing that the world owed her everything.

Second, he gets the worst feeling of being shoved through a tiny expanse and then he's collapsed on a stone floor in front of a beautiful young woman with flaming red hair and brilliant green eyes that seemed to glow with power. Her skin was pale with rosy cheeks and pouted pink lips.

She stood at his appearance with her eyes wide with shock and it let Jon see that underneath her tight, royal blue dress, the red haired beauty had a generously curved, hourglass figure with impressive assets. Definitely the opposite to what he had envisioned her to be.

This woman was the one Death had called his Mistress?

She suddenly threw up her hands and he found himself in a large, luxurious room with Ghost lying on the massive bed. Even his direwolf seemed stunned by the appearance of the blue eyed, black furred she wolf that had stood at the woman's side.

In a corner of the decorated room, the shadows darkened and slithered out further until a clothed shade appeared.

Death.

"Who was that?" Jon asked, breathless.

"She is Hartlyn Black. My Mistress."