CHAPTER ONE: Beyond The Wall



(Rape, Violence, Snuff, Voy, M/F, MCD)



It was one of the longer three-man Rangings that Will has been on in his time in the Night's Watch, after being shipped off to the wall for poaching instead of letting them chop off his hand. They've gone nine days north of the wall, after a group of wildings a previous ranging caught wind of two weeks ago. Sent ahead of his know-it-all ranging commander, Ser Waymar Royce, Will was just returning from scouting.



Quiet as a shadow, befitting a seasoned hunter, Ser Waymar almost didn't notice Will slip back into sight as he was tending the horses. Giving a little start as he noticed his brother emerge from the treeline, he cleared his throat and asked, "Find the wildings?"



Will nodded glumly, adjusting his heavy leather cap on his head of stringy black hair, "There's eight of them. Men and women both. Strangest thing I ever seen, really. The men and women were all -natural-. Their clothes were torn off and scattered to the wind. They were frozen solid, to the last of them. The women were bent nude right over a log, or the big rock nearby. The men were splayed out naked on the ground."



The freshly-oathed knight of the Night's Watch flicked his eyes questioningly to the third of their number, an old veteran of a hundred ragings, Gared. After a moment the old soldier answered with a bit of uncertainty creeping into his voice, "At the very end, when it gets this cold this far past the wall, it drives you mad. You get so hot, you think taking off yer clothes is the only way to save yerself." He paused for a moment before adding, "Could have been the Others. Old wives used to say they took men and women to be their concubines, and left them frozen hulks in the winter."



The knight mulled this information before unequivocally declaring, "You know as well as I do that there is most certainly no such things as the Others, and I am not afraid of old wives tales. Will, take me back there. Gared, guard the horses. We shan't be long." Will got a queasy feeling in his stomach. He most certainly did not want to return to that forsaken camp.



Before long, the two of them reached the edge of the camp, hiding under a particularly low-hanging tree overlooking the camp on a ridge. Will came to an abrupt stop, fear pounding in his mind. Everything was the same as he last saw it...except that the bodies of the wildlings were not there. A loud curse from behind him startled Will into drawing his dagger. A sword slashed at a branch as Waymar staggered behind, nearly tripping on some slick mud before posing heroically with his sword drawn.



Royce paused to take in the scene, then boomed into the silence, "Hah. I think you might be seeing ghosts, brother." Will stared in horror, not comprehending where the recently-dead went. When the knight motioned for him to follow, Will obeyed...reluctantly.



The knight looked around the deserted camp, muttering under his breath "We'll see if I come back a failure from my first trip over the Wall..." He motioned to the large tree. "Up, up, up. Lets find out if you can see where they went.



Muttering a curse under his breath that was stolen by the raging wind, Will grabbed a hold onto the lowest branches of the tree, and began to climb. Before long he was cursing as sharp bark bit through the gloves his hands, as he ascended high into the tree. Pausing for a moment to gather his breath, Will barely heard the knight below. "Halt! Who is there?"



No answer came save the the caw of a raven. The very sounds of the forest around them had ceased.



A shape slinked into sight, with flesh pale blue, hair long and covered in frost, armor scintillating wintery colors. The creature wore this armor over the swell of two breasts on her chest, but wore nothing else save a small cloth of icy blue material around the waist, and carried in her hands a longsword made of pale ice.



Ser Waymar squared his shoulders and bravely lifted his sword. "Dance with me then." A thousand tales from Will's childhood ran through his mind as he watched the fight unfold beneath him with growing fear.



The Other halted in front of the Knight. Her gaze fixed on the Knight's sword, before slowly lowering and absorbing the Knight's powerfully broad chest, concealed by layers of fur and leather and ringmail. Finally they settled on his crotch, where the Knight's engorged member was hard with the fury of battle, tightly covered by thick black leather pants. Will paused briefly, sure that for a brief moment, the expression on the creature's face was...hunger.



Just as silent as shadows, more female creatures surrounded the pair in the clearing. A dozen pale-skinned and boney creatures watched on with...what Will swore was lust in their icy blue eyes. With horror, Will noticed that some of them had loosened their armors and were caressing breasts the size of small melons, or had their hand between their legs. Yet they made no move to interfere in the battle that was starting in the clearing, steel against ice, faster and faster.



Royce missed a step, and realized his mistake a moment too late. The icy sword ripped through ringmail and leather, revealing the strong, muscular stomach and abs of the athletic knight. Ser Waymar pressed a halting hand to his wound, which came away covered with red, red blood. The look on the Other's face was pure longing. It said something in a language that Will did not understand, but the tone was lusty. With a deliberate swing, the Other brought her sword down and Will watched Ser Waymar Royce lift his.



When the blades touched, the steel broke in half, staggering Royce. The watchers moved forward together as one, pale hands ripping and tearing the armor and leather coverings from the knight. When the knight lay nude on the muddy snowy ground, the Other who defeated him dropped her blade to the ground, and pulled to the side the thin covering concealing her from the waist down. Beneath it was the cleft of a woman, almost like any other Will had ever seen, but pale and blue.



Despite strong struggles from the knight, unyielding hands cold as ice held him to the ground as the Other straddled him, one knee to each side of his hips. Grasping his swollen manhood in her hands, she guided it between her womanly lips and, inch-by-inch, settled onto his cock.



Ser Waymar Royce was conflicted. The cunt of the Other was the tightest, wettest and strangely hottest of any he had sampled before, whores and highborns alike. Despite his weakening protests as the creature began to gyrate and bounce on top of him, an unwilling moan escaped his lips.



The Other smirked coldly above him, resting her cold-as-ice palms on his chest, rolling her hips faster-and-faster, driving his manhood deep inside her most intimate crevice. The Need filled her, and she drew thin red lines with her fingernails down his muscular chest. Ser Waymar gasped in combined pain and pleasure, as his gaze darted everywhere around him, absorbing the sight of half-naked Other women holding him down, pleasuring themselves, and moaning all around him. Another Other stepped behind the one riding him, and with a few flicks of hidden clasps, freed the bouncing Other's pale-as-ice breasts from confinement. Immediately they began to wobble with the up-and-down motion of her riding his cock.



"Oh by the Seven, I'm close! Why...what...is...happening!?" The knight groaned euphorically. The Other only answered with a smirk, increasing the pace of her frantic bouncing on his cock.



As the knight began tensing up to withhold his inevitable climax, he noticed that the Others holding him had let him go some time past, and were openly fingering themselves, moaning in conjunction with the one riding him and even leaning over to suck on the sweet pale-blue buds of proffered Other nipples. Taking this chance to attempt escape, Ser Waymar Royce lifted lifted his hands in anger towards the neck of the Other riding him.



Ser Waymar Royce's scream bore deep into Will's soul. His arms were entirely frozen into blue unresponsive ice, and deathly blue color was spreading over the entirety of his body. The knight could feel his warmth being sucked from his entire body through his cock into the cunt of the Other, who wore an expression of pure bliss and victory. His lips were covered in frost as his last breath escaped them before his face froze solid, his body jerking with climax, spilling his life's seed deep into the womb of the Other riding him. The Other tilted her head upward, and a primal groan echoed outward. Her ice-blue eyes locked onto Will's, a moment before he closed them.



When he could hold his eyes closed no longer, the camp below was empty of Others, and he began to climb down slowly. Royce was lying face-up on the snow, still nude, still dead. Panicking for a plan, he knelt down and collected fragments of the Knight's broken sword, intent on providing them to Lord Commander Mormont for proof. "Gared," he said quietly to himself. "I have to hurry."



Will rose. Ser Waymar Royce was already standing over him. His cock was rock hard, an icy dagger sticking straight from his lap. His eyes were open, an unnatural blue staring outward. The sword fell from Will's suddenly useless fingers, and he turned to run before a strong hand grabbed his shoulders, pinning him against the nearby large rock. Laughing maniacally in his mind to the sound of tearing cloth, the last thing to cross his thoughts before everything went icy black was, "I should have let them take my hand."