Of Wolves and Iron Giants (ASOIAF/Escaflowne)

[spktr alpha]

Of Wolves and Iron Giants​

Chapter 1 - The Wolf of Sunset​

Fly east.

Fly far east past the horizon where you can see only one moon, not two.

Fly east until you see a lonely lighthouse and past that den of The Drowned God.

...And there you will find Westeros.

It was not a journey done lightly.

Even for a land as advanced as Gaea, the course had to be charted, and the supplies be prepared beforehand.

It was said that among Queen Hitomi's people, the first men to fly across an ocean of such breadth did so in machines far more frail than The Crusade.

Spoiler: The Crusade

But Lindbergh and the Spirit of St. Louis only needed to worry about storms, fuel, and mechanical issues.

Not dragons, not sea-harpies, not the savage cousins of the fishfolk.

"Wildlings of the Sea." Jon spoke.

"Your wildlings could be negotiated with." Balgus replied, "I can't say those things can hold a conversation. Or want to. And you say the Ironborn are born from men's union with them?"

"I know men who don't mind women who could tear them limb from limb."

Balgus scowled, "Well they wanted to 'eat me' not EAT me."

Atop the deck of the ship two young men talked, having a bit of levity after a harrowing fight. Jon knew his homeland had stories of ships who had sailed into the Sunset Sea to never return. Seeing the horrors that lurked in the depths made him understand why.

For all their advances, for all their training and experience, the Crusade still bore scars. Bite marks from serrated teeth that could make meals of bears. Claws from slithering beasts that would outrun any bird or horse. Holes from barbs and spines that had punched through steel like paper.

As they talked, they heard a bell ring: land. Land sighted at last.

In the distance, peeking out from the waves, was a lone tower jutting out from a rock in the ocean.

The Lonely Light.

"Westeros." Jon exhaled. "I'm home."

"Your home is in Fanelia," Balgus said, hand on his shoulder. "Regardless of what they say."

"I know Balgus." Jon whispered, "I know.

"You aren't home yet Jon," a third voice spoke.

Climbing up the stairs was a man they considered their uncle, a legend in his own right. His hair still remained long but well-kept, more silver than gold in the past few years, but Ser Allen Schezar remained a formidable knight in mind and body; well enough that King Van squired his son and adoptive son to him. The Crusade was his ship; its crew, the Knights of Castelo, were with him for decades.

"If what you tell me of these Ironborn is true," Allen huffed, "They are as much an enemy as the deep ones they claim to hail from. As Captain, I suggest we fly past the Iron Islands."

"You won't get any words from me." Balgus replied, "Was it Bar island-"

"Bear Island." Jon corrected, "House Mormont should still rule it."

"Then Bear Island it is." Allen declared, "I hope their reception is warmer than Asshai."

"Any reception is warmer than Asshai." Balgus grunted, "The sea here is a birthplace of monsters. THAT damned city is full of monsters by choice."

To travel west of Gaia or as it is known to the world as 'Ulthos', was to tread into the lands of Carcosa, K'Dath, the Shrykes, the Winged Men, and the Bloodless Men, all of them horrors in their own right. That left the Gaean Expedition to fly east and toward Jon's home, and find the elusive route that connected Ulthos and Far Essos to Westeros.

"One of many." Jon sighed, "I hope that when we reach Mormont lands, we'll be free of more nightmares from Old Nan's stories."

The Crusade continued its flight; it had been a week of storms, mechanical issues, and the occasional attack by sea beasts. A few more hours close to land wouldn't hurt. It was time spent preparing the landing party and their equipment. Time that was spent taking a long, deep breath after a few weary days at sea.

Finally, the bell rang again. But it didn't stop. It rang more loudly and frantically, and Jon was roused from his work and rushed onto the bridge.

Allen and Balgus were there, alongside the rest of the crew. It was not without reason.

Down there was indeed the familiar white snow and pines of Bear Island.

But also longships on the beach.

Ironborn Longships whose crew were already running toward a village in the distance.

...They had just arrived in the middle of another raid.

"Pirates." Balgus spat, "Reavers. I'm getting to the Escaflowne-"

"My Prince."

Balgus' eyes snapped to Allen, who stared back with a steel gaze of his own.

"I don't care about the diplomatic-"

"I'm not stopping you," Allen said. "Only that you know what you're getting yourself into."

"I always am." Balgus boasted, running into the cargo hold.

"He doesn't," Jon mumbled.

"He never does." Allen sighed. "Keep him from doing anything stupid Jon."

"You mean more."

The older knight shrugged. "Yes, More. I don't believe Kai will be enough this time."

Ulthos was known as the continent of Gaea. Isolated by the things that lurked in Sothyros and Far East Essos to its left; isolated by a vast, monster- and storm-ridden sea to its right. In turn, preventing the spread of these nightmares by the will and arms of its people. Proud knights, master craftsmen, fleets of flying ships .... and their most powerful invention: The Guymelef.

They were expensive to build and maintain, but these war machines allowed mortal men to challenge dragons and giants on even footing.

The doors of the Crusade's cargo hold opened as the crew scrambled to prepare them. Four metal giants of different makes and models sat ready and waiting for battle. Their chest cavities were open, where inside were harnesses that allowed men to move the constructs like massive puppets.

One of them was his.

---

When it wasn't Wildlings, it was Ironborn. When it wasn't Ironborn, it was wildlings.

Bear Island was a hard land and bore hardy people. So when the Ironborn arrived on their shores again, every man and woman grabbed their weapons to defend their frozen rock one more time.

Among them Dacey Mormont, riding as hard and fast as a Northern horse could be pushed.

She heard shouting and screaming on the other side of the hill. She and her band instantly knew that the fighting had already started.

But when the Mormont company reached the crest of the hill, they didn't see a battle; they saw a slaughter.

Three giants, larger than any she had seen living Beyond-The-Wall, had waded into the Ironborn with swords in hand and clad in armor from head to toe.

One was silver, moving with a grace impossible for its size, as a blue cloak fluttered in its wake.

Another was of a shade of white paler than even snow, standing between the village and the reavers.

The third was a black wolf that would have haunted men's dreams; besides its snarling visage, it carried a sword that was as long as it was tall; It was much too big to be called a sword. Massive, thick, heavy, and far too rough. Indeed, it was like a slab of raw iron.

Spoiler: The Silver Giant

Spoiler: The White Giant

Spoiler: The Black Giant

They made quick work of it, cutting mere men to ribbons or crushing or swatting them aside. The bloodlust that fueled the Ironborn faltered against insurmountable strength. Shock led to desperation. Desperation led to fear. And then, before Dacey's eyes, the Ironborn turned to their ships to flee.

And then the Longboats shattered.

One after the other, a bolt from the heavens crashed into each vessel, splitting each boat into two.

Dacey's eyes snapped up and froze.

A fourth giant, a one-horned one at that, was shocking enough, but the Mormont could see it holding a massive bow, and the large archer itself standing on the deck of a veritable flying ship.

Spoiler: The One-Horned Giant

Now stranded, the Ironborn turned back at the three giants looming over them. Giants drenched in the blood of their former brethren. A reaver threw down their axe. A second threw down his spear. A third threw down his sword. One by one the Ironborn laid down their arms, knowing the full futility of fighting.

The Mormont's lips thinned, and with a crack of her reins willed her horse down the hill.

"Milady-"
"Dacey-"

She ignored the protests of her men and rode forward. Her houseguard reluctantly followed behind her as the Silver giant turned to face her.

"I am Dacey Mormont!" She spoke, "Heir and protector of Bear Island! Who are you strangers? And what business do you have on my island!?"

To her surprise, the Black Wolf knelt, planting the massive slab of metal generously called a 'sword' to the side.

Steam hissed from the chest plate, and to the surprise of the Northerners, they saw a man suspended in the middle of it.

He was tall and lean, and underneath a snarling helmet was a fierce gaze that reminded her too much of other wolves for Dacey to feel comfortable.

The warrior dismounted, or rather detached from his giant suit of armor. His 'actual' attire proved just as intimidating as it was foreign.

He pulled off his helmet, breathing in the Northern air for the first time in what seemed like a long time to him.

"My name is Jon Snow, Natural-born Son of Lord Eddard Stark."

He continued, the missing bastard of Winterfell, speaking as if he hadn't just returned on a flying ship wearing suits of giant armor.

"This is Ser Allen Schezar of Asturia and His Grace, Prince Balgus Fanel of Fanelia."

The names were as foreign as their lands, but the Bear Islanders were in no position to question them

"...You wouldn't know of them because they come from Gaea, in our tongue: Ulthos."

At this revelation, Dacey Mormont could only formulate one response:

"...what."

---

Salt and Bread was broken, and Guest Rites were observed. It remained mostly the same in Gaea but Jon could see the subtle shift as Balgus felt the skeins of fate adjust themselves.

They stood at the heart of Mormont's keep. Surrounded by men who had seen hardship and muttered of old tactics and giants. Their Guymelefs remained outside, with one left to guard the Crusade.

On a table that had seen as much blood as brews, Jon laid out a detailed map, from the Ulthos perspective. It stood in contrast to the one that the Mormonts provided. Theirs had Westeros in great detail and grew less as it went further out into the east of Essos and North of Sothyros, with Gaea more or less a featureless blob. The map done by Asturian cartographers was a mirror opposite. Bear Island would not know of the nightmares lurking in the Sothyrosi' jungles. Maybe it was for the better.

At its center was Gaea. A hundred kingdoms made of a hundred different peoples, dating back to the Long Night and the great exodus as man, beast, and beast-man fled the Great Other and its thralls.

"Magic is strong in Gaea." He explained bluntly, "The Long Night was a mass extinction that drove what you would see as myths and legends to flee to Ulthos. They took what they could, including their power."

His fingers followed the routes that the various races fled. Giants, Centaurs, Harpies, Dragons- all of them part of a sea of people that escaped the eternal winter and the monsters it brought with it.

His hand stopped at the mountain passes that had been sealed at great cost. Then, where land bridges had been sunken, not unlike The Arm of Dorne.

Even today they were guarded. The Shrykes and Brindled Men still raided; the Bloodless Men needed victims to sate their hunger; the King in Yellow desired to expand Carcosa's borders. It wasn't by choice that they were isolated from Westeros and greater Essos.

Jon clenched his necklace, one last gift from his birth mother. His adoptive mother possessed something similar.

"Magic helped whisk me away." Jon continued, "And magic allowed me to find my way home."

"So you say." Maege Mormont huffed, "I am a bear, not a Maester, but I know magic has a price."

"It does." Allen frowned. "And the kind of magic you are familiar with is illegal in Gaea. For good reason."

The Knight that Jon and Balgus squired under knew bitterly.

"Illegal? More like unnatural. We only have your word that you are what you say you are."

The Bear Islanders muttered amongst themselves again. They eyed the Ulthosi with suspicion. Among the crowd and darker corners of the hall, more clouded eyes stared back.

Wargs.

A Guymelef was powerful, but they were still mortal creations, still mere machines that Hitomi admitted, paled to her people's own weapons. Balgus' namesake proved even a single man could face one in open combat.

He had not seen Wargs in person, but he had heard of how dangerous they could be.

"What my squire says is the truth." Allen spoke, "But if it does not satisfy you, then we can simply leave and take our business elsewhere."

"Stay your hand Ser." The matriarch spoke up, "We bears are skeptical, but we aren't fools. Jon Snow has been missing for several years. There was one cunt who tried to collect the reward. Tried."

"We aren't interested in any reward." Balgus shrugged. "We have enough."

"Obviously." Maege huffed before turning to Jon, "If you are what you say you are Snow then you'd know I and plenty of Northern Lords were there for the spring celebration. The day you disappeared."

It was the end of another winter, and the people of The North had gathered in Winterfell. Jon remembered it well: the fight that happened, the day that he left Winterfell for the first time, the day that he tried to forget.

Jon exhaled, "I told him if I had no mother ... then I had no father."

The reaction was subtle, but he could see Lady Mormont's face tighten. The Great She-Bear leaned back in her seat and now studied them with a calculating eye rather than a wary one.

"...So it is you." She whispered.

Maege stood up from her seat and looked across her people. "Jon Snow has returned. And we have the thanks of the Ulthosi. Bring out the ale! It's time we give them a Bear's welcome!"

The mood suddenly shifted as the Bear Islanders began to shout and beat their chests. The ale barrels were indeed being rolled out, and an impromptu band began to play their flutes and beat their drums.

The matriarch of the Mormonts whispered into the ear of an aide who promptly scurried away and then approached the wayward bastard and his Gaean companions.

"Ned has been looking for you the whole time Jon." Lady Mormont spoke more softly than before. "He'll be glad you are still alive."

"It has been a long few years Lady Mormont." Jon admitted, "I just wish to settle things with my father."

The matriarch nodded. "Aye. Hope you will. Land on the other side of the Sunset Sea will change things no matter what."

"Both Fanelia and Asturia are open to trade." Allen reported, "And an embassy."

"And poor Manderly is on the other side of the continent!" The She-Bear snorted, glancing at the map lying before them, "...Either you lot married?"

"I am betrothed." Jon replied immediately, "And Vera would have me drawn and quartered if I didn't do it myself."

"Good man." Maege nodded. "Just like your father. Though it won't matter here. We Mormonts have our children with 'bears' after all."

The Mormonts were the children of 'Bears'. Whether they were unnamed glorified seed donors or secret paramours, Jon being a bastard mattered much less to the Bear Islanders.

Still, he tried to avoid the looks of some of the younger women in the hall.

So far. So good.

---

Scherezhade and Escaflowne were solidly built, with a compromise between speed and protection.

Black Wolf or Kuro-No-Ookami in the Fanelian tongue, was fast, yes, but fast for a machine clad in the thickest armor of the four and carrying a sword meant to decapitate dragons through sheer mass rather than sharpness.

Belial was the thinnest and most nimble by necessity. Of a Melef Lance, he was their scout and skirmisher.

And so it rankled him that he was told to stay with the ship.

The Crusade was an old ship, but it had been refitted with some of the first upgrades from The Mystic Moon. It and its crew were grizzled explorers and fighters.

As the door to Mormont Keep opened, Kai tensed and relaxed in the span of a second. His Lord was still alive, as were his Lord's other two minders.

The radio crackled in his ear.

"It seems the talks worked out." The First Mate spoke.

"You've known Ser Schezar longer Gaddes," Kai replied.

"True," Gaddes admitted. "But you've known the boys longer. Allen wants us to land. The rest of the crew is relieved to get solid ground under their feet again."

"You mean wine and women." The scout grunted.

"That too."

He shook his head and then turned to look back toward the surface.

With his foot on the pedal, Belial dropped from the Crusade. The few Bear Islanders gawked as the Guymelef descended. The tall metal archer landed on the permafrost with a soft thud, and turned to look up at the flying vessel.

A massive anchor fell after him, and the giant caught it mid-descent, pulling it and guiding the Crusade down toward the surface.

Atop the Crusade, a mast was raised, folding out a dozen long thin metal blades. Compared to land, radio transmission over water was easier. Easier, not easy. The distance remained vast regardless.

As he hammered the spikes into the ground, he saw a flock of ravens begin to fly off and out from the keep. His lips thinned. The die was cast.

---

A/N: A rewrite of The Warmachines of Westeros. The world of Escaflowne exists, isolated from Westeros by a vast sea on one side and eldritch horrors on the other.

I had been stockpiling chapters in my snippet thread on QQ and I think it was time I began posting them here.

Just a word of warning: I'm using expies to flesh out the bits of both crosses. i.e., the Guymelefs that two of four pilots are using are based off of mecha of other franchises.
Link to SB Thread: https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/of-wolves-and-iron-giants-asoiaf-escaflowne.1334126/

Original story:
https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/the-warmachines-of-westeros-asoiaf-escaflowne.1252804/

 

[Turncoat]

Nice, this got a rewrite.