A/N: Axel is just gonna pop up north, genocide the Others, and be back in time for brunch. Easy peasy!
-x-X-x-
Listening to the stories from the wildlings had been as galvanizing as it was heart wrenching. Sure, many south of the Wall might call them savages and try to argue that they weren't worth the air they breathed, but Axel didn't think that was true. Not of all of them or even most of them, anyways. Much like the Mountain Men of the Vale, the wildlings north of the Wall were simply people doing their best to survive.
And the Others had come along and waged a war of annihilation on them. For every story of survival, there had been one of tragedy. More than half of the wildlings who Axel had heard out back in their encampment had lost someone close to them at this point. Pretty much all of them knew someone who had been lost, even if it was on the most basic level.
Frankly, the wildlings that were left were 'the good ones' if Axel was going to entertain that idea. The ones who ate human flesh, who hunted other wildlings, who fought and fought and never compromised… well, they hadn't lasted long enough to reach this point. And they never would have accepted joining up with Mance in the first place.
The wildlings had small, clan-like communities. They were usually very spread out from one another and tended to war with each other more than they warred with the Night's Watch or even raided south of the Wall. Ultimately though, the Walkers and their wights had changed that. You were either living or dead at this point, and so the living had banded together to survive. And those who refused to band together, who tried to go it alone? They joined the Others' army of corpses.
As he flies through the air, soaring high above the True North and squinting down at the forest below, Axel's jaw is set into a harsh frown. He had to admit, he didn't know what to really make of this enemy. For all that Euron Greyjoy and Daenerys Targaryen had been manipulated into fighting him by Gods who seemingly wanted Axel dead, they were still people. Still human, even if Daenerys had left a lot of her humanity behind along the way.
But the Others were never human to begin with. White Walkers were said to be demons of ice, cold, and death. Axel had heard all of the same stories that everyone else did about them. How they were said to hate every creature with hot blood in its veins. How the Wall had been constructed to keep them out.
Of course, everyone south of the Wall treated those as bedtime stories, childhood fables meant to set youngsters on the right path. Don't tarry in the dark or the Others will get you. Obey your parents and go to sleep or the Others will get you. That kind of thing.
Most thought the Wall was to keep the wildlings out, but even before meeting the desperate lot of them back at their encampment, Axel had long since recognized how silly that was. He just hadn't ever questioned it until Jon Snow started talking about wights and ice demons and a threat to the realm beyond some simple savages.
Jon Snow… Axel imagined that Sansa's brother would be fine with the wildlings. He had seen the red haired woman that was sat next to him and had to admire Jon's taste. Presumably, that would be Ygritte. If Axel had his way, one day maybe Jon would have the chance to get with the wildling woman.
But for now he needed to focus. He needed to find this threat… and deal with it with extreme prejudice. There are traces of movement once or twice in the icy forest below, but nothing like what Axel is looking for. It could just be animals, even. So he keeps going, flying further and further north. Until eventually… he finds it.
Rather hard to miss it, actually. The forest ends and beyond it's edge, white snow and ice flow outwards. However, amidst those plains of ice and snow, something discolors the otherwise pure white landscape… a mass of moving bodies for as far as the eye can see in every direction. Hundreds of thousands if not millions of bodies… each and every one of them a reanimated corpse with rotted flesh and glowing blue eyes.
Axel narrows his eyes and draws his Colossal Blade from his back as he approaches the army of dead men. But no, it's not just dead wildlings that greet him when he closes in. There are all sorts of creatures amidst the sea of bodies.
Giants. Mammoths. Snow Bears. Shadowcats. Direwolves. Hell, there are some things Axel can't even put a name to. Though in most cases that's just because they're so rotted that they barely have a semblance of a body in the first place.
They're still moving though. Still writhing. And as he comes closer, every last one of them stops shifting about and looks up sharply. A sea of glowing blue eyes stares up at Axel as the army of wights gazes at him unerringly. Axel looks back at them, his jaw clenching for a moment at the sheer unnaturalness of it all.
Dead things should stay dead. Those who passed on deserved their rest. But the Others apparently perverted the natural course of things. They had no respect for the dead. They didn't even care if a corpse was mostly decomposed judging by the number of exposed skeletal wights Axel can see.
For a moment, he's tempted to put himself among them. To swing his sword and cut through a hundred wights with every single blow. It would be easy and he doesn't think for a second that any of this so-called army could possibly harm him.
… But they aren't the true enemy. They're nothing but fodder and they can't even reach him from where they are, forced to simply stare up at him as Axel hovers a couple hundred feet in the air over the tallest Giant Wight's head.
Lifting his eyes from the roiling mass of undead, Axel looks back behind him curiously. There are so many corpses here… they could have overrun the wildling encampment by now with ease. Hell, they could have overrun the Wall and poured into the North by now.
And yet, they aren't advancing. As he looks up and down the line of them, he sees a handful of wights break away from the greater mass from time to time and slip off into the forest he just flew over… but that's it. There's no greater movement from the larger army. It's like they're waiting for something. But what?
Well, he's not going to get answers from a bunch of corpses. Turning his gaze back north, Axel begins moving forward once more. He flies over the roiling sea of bodies for what feels like an eternity but in reality is probably only a couple of minutes. Even still, it really puts into perspective just how many reanimated corpses there are below him.
Finally though, he finds what he's looking for. Or rather, who. On a hill near the back of the undead army, he finds the Others. White Walkers clad in eldritch armor and wearing inhuman faces. Glowing blue eyes yes, but also unnatural blue flesh and ethereal appearances. Not to mention wielding crystal weapons unlike anything Axel has ever seen before.
They're waiting for him. Even before he arrives, they're staring at him, watching his approach from further than he had been able to notice them with his own eyes. Pursing his lips, Axel hovers over them, glaring down. Among the Walkers is a particular Other who stands out from the rest. Mostly because horns grow out of his bald head like a mockery of a crown. But also because the others surround him like he is their leader. Like he's in charge.
Tilting his head to the side, Axel grunts before calling out.
"I don't suppose you lot talk, do you? The Great Other order you to gather this army and come kill me? Don't worry, I'm used to it by now! But you might want to turn back and go home! It won't end well for you! It never does for those who make themselves my enemies!"
Axel isn't really surprised when they don't respond with words. Instead, the one he's marked as their leader reaches to the side and one of the other Walkers hands him a massive spear of crystalline ice. Axel narrows his eyes as the horned Other hefts up the spear like a javelin… and launches it through the air at him right there on the spot.
For a brief moment, Axel is tempted to catch it and throw it back. But honed battle instincts warn him not to and instead he dodges at the last second. The throw is fast, don't get him wrong. The ice spear moves faster than anything Axel has ever seen before. But it's not fast enough for him.
Seeing both the leader and other White Walkers all reaching for more spears, Axel half-sneers, half-grins as he snarls.
"Fine then. Be that way. I'm certainly not fucking complaining."
In a flash, he's among them. In the blink of an eye, his beautiful, nameless Valyrian Steel Sword cleaves through two of the Others at their waists. It goes right through their armor, Axel is pleased to note. And right through their unnatural flesh as well.
They die on the spot, though not as men should die. Instead, they collapse into ice and snow, leaving nothing but their armor and crystal weapons behind in moments.
Axel just grunts as he dodges ice spear after ice spear, crystal sword after crystal sword.
"Well, it seems you die easily if nothing else. I imagine if I kill all of you, then the wights should go back to their rest, no? For the sake of your people, wherever they are, I certainly hope so. Because I'd hate to have to hunt down and kill every last one of them too."
Even as he speaks with a conversational tone, Axel is swinging his sword and cutting down more of the assembled White Walkers. There are dozens of them to be fair, and to their credit, they do finally start to react to his presence in their midst. Those crystal swords of theirs are even strong enough to block Valyrian Steel.
However… they aren't strong enough to withstand his strength. Axel's sword cleaves through Other after Other, killing Walker after Walker as he steadily makes his way towards the center of their little group... the leader with his 'crown' of horns.
Meeting icy blue blazing eyes, Axel grins savagely as he cuts down more and more of the Walkers, carving a path directly towards this 'King' Other. He might not know for sure that the creature is the lynchpin to all of this… but it certainly seems like a safe bet. Kill it, kill all of them, end the threat. Simple as that, right?
Axel is maybe a dozen feet away from the king-looking Other, just about to lunge forward and cut the bastard down, when the Walker suddenly opens its mouth… and begins to scream. Not a normal scream though. No, this is… this is something else.
Eyes widening, Axel screams right back… in pure agony as one of his hands goes to an ear, the worst pain he's ever experienced beating through his skull. Poisons, Valyrian Steel, Wildfire, Daenerys Targaryen… the list of things that have been able to harm Axel throughout his life is incredibly short and some of them have even been taken off as he managed to gain immunity to them, one way or another.
But none of them hurt nearly as much as the Other's scream hurts him now. The other remaining White Walkers move in on him, crystal swords and ice spears at the ready to finish him off, but Axel isn't down for the count yet. He snarls and swings his sword like a mad man around him, catching and killing a few while the others are forced to dodge back again.
And then there's something in the back of his mind, some… melody that begins to play. As it does so, the pain from the Walker Leader's high pitched scream starts to ebb and Axel starts to come back to himself. He doesn't fully understand it, but he grins viciously as he's able to steady himself and place both hands back on the massive hilt of his Colossal Sword.
… The moment of victory is short-lived however as just after he takes another step towards the screaming Other, more of the Walkers around them open their mouths and begin to screech as well. The pain redoubles… and then triples and quadruples. Axel's eyes widen, bulging out of his skull as he staggers back, stumbling away.
"You… fucking… bastard…"
Every breath is agony. Every waking moment is torturous pain. His head is pounding, his brain feels like it's boiling alive in his skull. But he can still end this. He just needs to kill them all. He just needs to-
SHUNK!
Axel's eyes bulge again as he doubles over the ice spear that just slammed through his Valyrian Steel Armor and buried itself in his chest before punching out the other side… out through his back. For the first time in his life, Axel Baratheon chokes on his own blood. It comes up through his throat thanks to a punctured lung, spewing from his mouth onto the snow before him.
He has never been hurt this badly. He has never been injured so grievously, not even by Daenerys. Perhaps that's why when the melody in the back of his mind which helped earlier starts to whisper something else to him… he listens.
-fleefleefleefleeflee-
Stumbling back, one hand still clutching at his sword (he's not losing another fucking weapon) Axel reaches down and grabs the ice spear in his gut. He learns then, through the haze of pain and blood, that he was smart not to try to catch one of them before. Else he would have wound up with a hole in his body a lot earlier.
Whatever magic is imbued in the spear tries to repel him, pushing his hand back at first. Grasping the ice is an exercise of true, honest determination like Axel has never experienced before. It takes every ounce of his power, every iota of his remaining strength… merely to rip the ice spear out of his body.
From there, he punches off of the ground, into the air. How he flies with the White Walkers' screeching echoing through his skull and a hole through his chest, he doesn't know. But he does it and fortunately there's a range on the high pitched scream that means he's away from the noise by the time he's fleeing back over the mass of undead he'd passed on his way over.
For the first time in his life… Axel Baratheon is forced to run from a battle.
-x-X-x-
A/N: I mean, couldn't have a Viltrumite in Westeros fic without someone eventually taking advantage of that weakness to certain high pitched frequencies, now could I?
Some of you probably thought the White Walkers would be pushovers at this point. So did Axel ;P
Feedback is GREATLY appreciated, every comment helps me shape the story with a Daily Free Write like this one!