What is west of Westeros? What if Davos found out? A different take on GOT in which Davos is shipwrecked on the coast of an unknown island west of Westeros. There he meets new societies that may help him in the upcoming war of the Seven Kingdoms. – AU of what could have happened in 8x02 the hours before the battle. Flashbacks included, POV Changes.

Just a thought that I had. Might be a one-shot. I haven't decided yet.

Disclaimer: Any recognizable names, events, words, etc. are not mine. OC characters, clans, countries, and languages were inspired by Scandinavian/Nordic and Scottish culture. Some words or names may be changed for the sake of the story.

The air whipped their fur cloaks as thousands of clansmen unloaded from the boats onto the shores of Westeros. The scouts they had sent ahead informed the people of Eurkos that landing too far north would bring them in the middle of the dead, but landing too far south would prevent them from reaching Winterfell in time. In the end, the clansmen sent small groups with canoes up the river to land in Barrowton. Horses would travel ahead of the group, allowing the clansmen to ride north to Winterfell. The western shore of Westeros was rocky and dangerous, but the people of Eurkos were used to rocky and dangerous shores.

Ingrid, Chief of the Alpta clan, led the clans out of Barrowton towards Winterfell. On her right rode Aldvilde, providing secondary navigation and council. On her left sat Bjornen, Alpta's top warrior after herself.

Receiving the raven from Davos had been surprising, but not nearly as surprising as the contents of the letter. The dead are marching towards Winterfell with the Night King. I find myself in need of aid; please send help.

And send help she did. Ingrid was nothing if not honorable, and she always kept her word. She sent scouts in all directions, towards the other clans asking for aid, as much as they could afford to send. She sent scouts to Westeros to send word back of the current climate. She sent scouts west, to ward off any oncoming attacks. She fortified her village and buckled down for winter and made arrangements for a new Gatlopp should she fail to return. And with a collection of food, supplies, and weapons, Ingrid took her warriors and sailed off towards Westeros.

Now she was here, eager to see Davos again, but wary to met the rulers of Westeros after hearing his stories. But she was not afraid, not of the living nor the dead. Alptan take fear and swallow it, turning it into fire to fuel their fight. Ingrid would do the same.

When Ser Davos opened his eyes, he was aware he was being watched. He didn't know where he was. There had been dense fog and a storm. Too late the lookouts had seen the sharp rocks circling the coastline of the unnamed island. But as Davos blinked away salt water, the fog had lifted. The sun shone with nary a cloud to be seen. When his eyes focused, they focused on the sharp end of a spear pointed at his face.

There was someone speaking. A woman. But she was speaking in a language he did not understand. It was not Common, nor Valyrian.

"I apologize," He said politely, "But I do not understand you."

The woman on the other end of the spear narrowed her eyes.

"Do you understand me now?" She said with a thick accent and a lifted brow.

"Yes." He replied with a grin.

"They build tall structures here." Aldvilde said as they arrive at the gates of Winterfell.

Ingrid hummed in agreement. Bjornen turned to face them, "They have no need to leave. They can plant roots for generations."

Ingrid rode forward to the guards. Climbing off of her horse, she turned to face them. She was tall, and with her bright hair pulled back into warrior braids and her body covered with light armor and furs, Ingrid cut an impressive figure. Her face was stoic as she braced her hand upon her scabbard and spoke boldly in Westeros' common tongue. "I am Ingrid, Chief of the Alpta, here to see Ser Davos."

The guards looked at each other in confusion.

"Ser Davos?" One said in a strange accent. "Alpta?" Said the other.

Ingrid raised a brow, "Well?" She said showcasing her own unique accent. "Are you going to let me in or not?"

"That's mine." Davos said, speaking to one of the men currently rummaging through his coin pouch that had fallen out of his cloak upon arriving. The man ignored him, and instead lifted one of the coins to show it to his companion. They examined the coin carefully before one bit into it. His face changed expression into an impressed look at the coin's new value.

"You have not told us who you are." Said the woman pointing the spear at him.

"Apologies," Davos said, moving to his feet and giving a small bow, "I am Ser Davos Seaworth."

Her face was unchanged except for a tiny crinkle between her eyebrows. "Your name is Ser?"

He grinned humorously, "No, that is just my title."

"What does it mean?"

Davos frowned, "It means that I'm a knight."

The woman's eyes shifted and connected with another woman standing to the left of her. When their eyes met, the woman raised one brow. Davos did not know what this meant.

The woman stared back a Davos and then barked harshly at the other members of her party surrounding Davos and some of the ship's belongings that had washed on shore. When she finished speaking, the others moved quickly to gather the salvageable items and then started towards the grassy edge of the beach, where a sandy trail led up the cliff side.

As she turned to follow, Davos called after her, "Wait! You have not told me your name."

She stopped, frowning as she turned to face him. She cocked her hip out and used the spear as leverage against the uneven path. "I am Ingrid." She said, her accent cutting off the 'r' in her name and ending the 'd' harshly.

She turned back towards the path without waiting for a response. After noticing Davos had not yet moved, she looked at him over her shoulder.

"Well?" She said with only a slight lift in her voice signifying her amusement. "Are you coming Ser Davos?"

Ingrid suspected that the only reason they were let inside the gates was because it was wartime and they showed up ready to fight. She thought this was foolish of them because for all they knew the clans could have been enemies sent to take advantage of Winterfell's distracted attentions. But, Ingrid reasoned, perhaps the better guards were given greater responsibilities and left gatekeeping to the lesser guards. She watched the guards warily. Yes, she judged, that must have been the case.

Ser Davos appeared at the top of a staircase leading into the castle. "Chief Ingrid," he greeted, beaming. "I never heard word back, I didn't know if you would make it."

"Ser Davos," Ingrid smiled back, glad to see her friend. "Of course, even the dead could not keep me away." She grasped his forearm in greeting.

"Come," Davos moved aside to direct her up the stairs, "I'll introduce you."

Before following him, Ingrid turned to give orders to the clans. The other chiefs trusted Ingrid with formalities because she was the only chief with ties to the rulers of Westeros, but they were not prone to idleness.

"Aldvilde, Bjornen." Ingrid called. The two clansmen stepped forward so she would not have to shout. "Make camp with the other armies outside. Take stock of supplies, aid any that you find, meet with the other chiefs – I will speak with them after." The two nodded before turning and directing clansmen to various jobs.

"Were there any other survivors?" Davos said, "From the shipwreck."

"Yes." Ingrid replied. "They found many a mile north of where you landed. They are at Dyþlinn."

"Dyþlinn?" Davos asked, "Where is that?"

"In Eurkos."

"Where's that?" Davos asked again, not feeling any less confused.

"You ask many questions Ser Davos." Ingrid said, her voice smiling.

"You –" Davos started, before he paused for they had reached the village.

It was unlike any village Davos had ever seen. There were no great stone structures like the castles or the septs that Davos had seen. There were only a few buildings. But their buildings were sturdy and grand; their entries painted with bright colors. Some were covered with grass, others with shingles. Some buildings had stone lining the outside walls, fortifying the structure. They varied in size, but they were all built around the village center where most of the people were gathered. Most certainly, Davos noticed as he looked around, while there were many people and many houses to accommodate those people, there were not nearly a many as most of the towns in Westeros. And all of the people moved in such a way that they could easily pack up and leave at the first sign of trouble.

Another thing he noticed was that all the people knew each other. As villagers mingled, they greeted each other, laughed, talked, and played. Davos did not see any beggars lining the alleys between buildings, or any peasants. All the villagers carried weapons, even the children.

The village center, where Davos could see some of the sailors eating, was full of market stands and mingling villagers. And as their small party walked towards the center, several members broke off, chatting amiably with other villagers with holding on to the salvaged goods. Several villagers came up to Ingrid and spoke quickly in their language, but never did she stop moving. As more villagers spoke, Ingrid replied, smiling to the villagers and bidding them to walk with her on her way towards the center.

It was a dynamic Davos had never seen before, and from the wide eyes of the sailors, neither had they.

As Davos observed this new society, Ingrid steadily walked towards the torgus. Her fellow clansmen soon grew tired of pleasantries and broke off to find answers elsewhere. Ingrid turned to Aldvilde.

"What do you think of the new visitors?" She asked, seeking a truthful answer. Ingrid knew Aldvilde would give her one. She had known Ingrid their whole lives. They fought together, conquered together, and governed together. Aldvilde was her most trusted confidant. Apart from this, Aldvilde was known for being honest simply because she had no patience for games. This was why she did not win the Gatlopp.

"I think they are strange. But I do not believe they are threatening." She answered, smirking.

"Yes," Ingrid agreed. "Although we may want to keep a close watch on this one." She said, flicking her head toward Davos walking behind her. "He seems to think he is the night."

"Obviously he is insane." Aldvilde said, nodding her head with mocking wisdom.

"Yes, Ingrid grinned. "Obviously."

As Ingrid followed Davos towards the council room, she observed the castle. It was grand, unlike any she had seen. There were many walls, which were good for protection. She could see the men making trenches and spikes with a stone she had never seen before.

"What is that?" She asked Davos nodding towards a weapon made out of this new material. He glanced over to see what she was referring to.

"Dragonglass." He answered. "It's the only thing besides fire that will kill the dead."

Ingrid paused. If this material is the only weapon that could kill their enemy, acquiring some for her clansmen would be of upmost importance. She would need to bring this up in the council meeting.

"You will be meeting with Daenerys Targaryen, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms; The King of the North, Jon Snow; and his half-sister, Sansa Stark, the Lady of Winterfell." Davos stated as they climbed more stairs and crossed a landing. "There may be others in the room. They have advisors. Lady Starks' sister, Arya Stark, may also be in attendance." Ingrid concentrated on the names. There were so many titles. Eurkosians did not have so many titles.

"Do you know to greet them?" Davos asked, wondering if she had remembered his lessons in Westerosi politics.

"Yes." Ingrid said, stopping to look at Davos, "I do not forget anything." Davos smiled.

Dyþlinn was unlike any town Davos had ever been in. Within the short time that he had spent in the village, Davos had learned a few crucial details.

Ingrid was the chief of a clan called the "Alpta". There was no male chief. The chief was determined for each clan through an intense naming ceremony after the previous one died. Davos was still unclear what this entailed, but it sounded extremely difficult and winning was considered an impressive feat. The "torgus" was what they called the village center. That was where they would trade, barter, buy, sell, or conduct public business. Any private business that was serious enough to go through the Chief would be conducted within the main hall, the grandest building within the village that consisted of several small side rooms and a gigantic main room where many would eat or socialize during the winter months. They had no "towns" or "cities," they had only "clans" and villages that the clans would name. If a clan moved, they would build a new village or take the old village with them. There were many clans, too many to count, far too many to name. From what Davos could gather, no one person knew all of the clans because often a family would decide to live somewhere else, pack up, and make their own clan.

The island that they were on was large in landmass, but did not hold all of the nomadic clans. Ingrid had mentioned that several other clans had appeared before from neighboring islands.

They were also discoverers. Davos had learned this walking through their library, a smaller room attached to the great hall. They had maps of all of their known lands, including Westeros, not including Essos. They had thousands of islands depicted farther west than Davos could have imagined.

Their trade routes suddenly made more sense to Davos. As he saw the lines of their trade routes drawn out on one of the maps hanging upon the wall, Davos noticed how they were able to accumulate so many different materials with such rudimentary means. Somehow, with any Kings or Queens, these clans had managed to work together for progress.

Davos was nervous. Ingrid was unyielding and blunt. She did not behave like a proper Lady, not that she was by any means, but she had little sense of Westerosi decorum. And why should she? She was neither Westerosi nor was she a servant. She never had to learn such ways. No, Ingrid was a warrior and a leader, and behaved as such. Davos was not nervous for Ingrid, but rather himself. If Ingrid was not accepted, he had no doubt she and her people would be fine; they were smart, they would be safe. But Davos could not leave. If Ingrid was not accepted by his rulers, what would that mean for him, for his reputation, his trust?

"Ser Davos," Ingrid said lowly, placing her hand on his arm. "Do not fear."

Davos grinned in spite of himself. Ingrid was always good at reading emotions.

"I shall try not to." He said with a small bow. And then he opened the door.

"If you don't mind me asking," Davos started, "Why do you train all the villagers to fight if you are surrounded by allies?"

Ingrid smiled at his naivety before biting off a hunk of jerky. Talking through the jerky in her mouth she said, "There are other clans that come, hoping to gain more than they have. Rival clans fueled by greed or jealously. We," Ingrid said, her smile turning bitter, as she swallowed, "Are not the only people on this world."

Davos froze, interested. No one in Westeros had thought that there was anything west of Westeros, and yet here he was. Why should there not be more? Of course there was. "Who else is there?"

Ingrid paused to eat and think. "There are others with more technology that arrived at Eurkos to bring medicines and remedies. Other came from the same place with diseases and weapons. The clans received all four and had to learn to survive. Some that come to conquer are more primitive, others more advanced than us." She shrugged. "To fight for what we have, we have to be ready to face anything. We take what we learn and we use it to build new strategies, develop new fighting methods, and create a better world."

Davos thought this was very wise of them, but he said nothing. It was amazing, he thought biting into his own jerky, that there were people that were so primitive, yet so more advanced than Westeros in many ways. Their society thrived. Davos looked around, there was a group of clansmen moving through drills with younger students; two men tinkered by the forge with metal Davos didn't recognize; a small class examining different plants and herbs; there were droves of people milling about and they were all happy. Davos noticed as he observed every small group, every lone clansman, that each and every one moved with purpose. Davos shook his head with wonder and took another bite of jerky.

Sansa did not like meeting new people like this. She could tell that Daenerys did not either. In the hall they could sit at the high table, in front of the people: powerful, composed, and in controlled. But in the council meeting, they were in a circle. There was no clear leader, no placement above the others, no way to see who was on top. Normally, Sansa would enjoy this because it placed her on equal footing with the men in the room. But now, having been the Lady of Winterfell, in the presence of a new leader, Sansa felt that the equal footing was more a hindrance than anything. She was glad that she had Arya. At least she knew that no matter what, Arya would side with her for the good of Winterfell. Jon was often too preoccupied with his new queen, and Bran, she never knew where Bran's head was anymore - probably somewhere in the past. Sansa still did not understand what Bran was now.

When Davos opened the door, they were all discussing battle strategies. The reinforcements from the North had arrived with news that the dead were almost here. Developing strategies was crucial. Upon hearing the door open, the room became silent. Everyone watched as Davos entered, followed by her. Sansa did not know who she was.

She knew that Davos had sent out ravens to anyone he would think of for help. She knew that Davos had told Jon of possible allies to the west of Westeros, a place Sansa had not even known existed. She knew that Davos had spent time with these allies and trusted them. But apart from that, Sansa knew nothing, and that bothered her. Too long she knew nothing. Sansa did not like not knowing. Not knowing meant not having control.

This new ally was a woman. A female warrior judging by the armor she wore and the sword on her hip. Sansa would have been surprised if she had not already known Brienne and Arya. This woman was tall, not as tall as her, maybe an inch or two shorter, but she was stronger. She held herself with poise and strength, like a ruler would. Her hair was pale and pulled back into braids that ran close to her scalp and ended in a ponytail. Her face was narrow, and her eyes were dark and stared boldly as they ran across the many faces in the room.

"Who are you?" The Queen said loudly, standing at the head of the head of the table.

"I am Ingrid." The woman said, matching Daenerys' pace and volume. "Chief of the Alpta clan of Eurkos."

"I have never heard of you." Daenerys replied, and Sansa wondered what her goal was to say that.

Ingrid did not appear slighted in the least by Daenerys' comment. In fact, she looked more amused than anything. "No, you wouldn't have."

Her eyes flicked around the room to observe the other faces before landing back on Daenerys. "You are Daenerys Targaryen." Ingrid said bluntly. "Queen of the Seven Kingdoms." Sansa understand that many in positions of power liked to state the obvious, either to gage a response or to buy time to think. She was not sure what Ingrid was doing, but it seemed like the former.

"Yes." Said Daenerys unchanging.

"You want the throne of iron?"

"Yes."

Ingrid narrowed her eyes at Daenerys. Sansa wondered if she was trying to see into Daenerys' soul and wondered then what Ingrid saw. Whatever it was, she must have approved because then Ingrid nodded her head in a small bow.

"Your Grace." Next Ingrid turned her attention to Sansa's brother.

"You're Jon Snow, King of the North." And Sansa wondered again if Davos had mentioned them in preparation. Jon looked uncomfortable with the title and looked quickly at Daenerys as if to see her reaction to the title.

"I'm not really."

"You're not Jon Snow?" Ingrid questioned, frowning and tilting her head like a puppy.

"No," Jon said, tripping over his words, "I am, I'm just not the King. I bent the knee to my Queen." He made a motion towards Daenerys. Ingrid's eyes widened and she looked at Ser Davos.

"I am confused," She admitted, "Did your people not appoint you King?"

Jon looked even more uncomfortable. "Well, yes-"

"-If your people chose you as their King, then you are King." Ingrid said with no room for argument. Sansa thought that she made an excellent point and then smirked at Arya, who smirked back.

Ingrid made another small bow, "Your Grace."

Sansa suddenly found herself staring into Ingrid's eyes. They had depth to them. When she was young, Sansa thought that dark eyes were ugly. They reminded her of dark pools. But Ingrid's eyes were not ugly. They were intriguing.

"You are Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell."

"Yes." Sansa said, using her game face.

Ingrid gave another small bow, "My Lady." Sansa breathed.

Ingrid looked once more around the room, and took a step towards the table. "I do not know any of you." She said bluntly. Davos gave a quiet cough, still standing by the door.

"Why are you here, Ingrid, Chief of Alpta?" Daenerys said loudly, refusing to turn her body and only looking at Ingrid by angling her head. Sansa wondered if she knew how stupid she looked. She looked at Jon who was staring at Daenerys and fought the urge to roll her eyes.

Ingrid turned away from the table to face Daenerys fully. She cocked her head to the side and grinned, smiling with her teeth and not her eyes.

"Because I was asked." Davos coughed again. Sansa saw him hiding his face with his gloved hand. Ingrid turned back to the table and started studying the battle plans that were laid out.

"By Ser Davos." Daenerys stated.

Ingrid did not look up, "Yes."

"His is your friend."

"He has aided us in our time of need," Ingrid said, finally looking at Daenerys. "He is a friend of all Alpta people and a friend of mine."

Daenerys smiled. Sansa thought that this smile was faked. "If you are his friend, you are our friend."

Instead of smiling, Ingrid frowned. Not in anger, Sansa thought she looked more confused. "How can I be a friend with someone I do not know?"

The room sucked in a collective breath. Sansa had to admire Ingrid's boldness, regardless of her motives for doing so. Daenerys' gaze was sharp as her back stiffened. Ingrid carried on like nothing she had said was problematic. "We are allies. We will fight together." Ingrid's face brightened as she looked at Ser Davos, who was still hiding behind his glove. "Davos asked for aid, and so I shall provide some. If you tell me where to fight, I will fight." Her way of thinking was clear, unhindered by false pleasantries. Sansa found it refreshing and gloated in the fact that Ingrid had been talking to Daenerys and not her. Maybe this Ingrid is not so bad after all.

As much as Davos hated fighting, he was excited to see the Alpta fight. He and his men had watched the clansmen train: all ages moving with strong limbs and fighting with all weapons. The Alpta taught their people to fight with versatility. Davos had seen two clansmen get into a fork fight over a piece of pudding, using their forks to guard the last bite or encroach on the other's portion of table. It had been all in good fun, but the way each flipped their forks and struck their hands had been a sight.

Battles with the Alpta, as well as the other clans on the island, were short notice. Attacking clans or foreign people gave each clan little time to prepare for a fight. This, Davos thought, was smart on the enemies' part, but it seeme to have little effect on the Alpta that he could see. This was just how things were done, and so they had to learn to move quickly, fight efficiently, communicate effectively, and strategize on the spot. It was obvious to Davos that they had done this before as he watched children gather the important supplies and head for the hills, covered with thick layers and weaponry. Adults dressed similarly, but instead of heavy armor, they wore tough leather and light mail, keeping their body weight light so they could move easily. Everyone had a job. Some went immediately to gather food, others to gather books. Most went towards the invaders, where they first heard the horn of battle. Ingrid at the front, ready to conduct treaty agreements if the invaders were amiable, battle calls if they were not.

"Ser Davos," called Bjornen, "Will you be fighting with us?"

Davos grinned, unsheathing his own sword, "Lead the way."

"They're coming." If Ingrid had walked into the room with Davos, she would have figured the two women were leaders. They stood talk and looked down on the others in the room. But this King, he was humble. He waited in the shadows, and fumbled when Ingrid questioned him. But, Ingrid thought while listening to his speech, this King does have a way with words. "We have dragonglass and valyrian steel, but there are too many of them, far too many. Our enemy doesn't tire; doesn't stop; doesn't feel. We can't beat them in a straight fight."

"So what can we do?" One of the men standing around the table asked - a tall, blond man standing next to an even taller and blonder woman. This woman was a fighter, Ingrid observed staring at the woman's armor instead of the man talking.

"The Night King made them all; they follow his command. If he falls," the King took a deep breath, his eyes flitting around the room, "Getting to him may be our best chance."

The blond man spoke again, "If that's true, he'll never expose himself."

Ingrid was still unsure as to whom they were speaking of, but she was smart. She had won the Gatlopp when she was young because she was a fighter and a thinker. This 'Night King' they spoke of, she thought as her eyes moved between the two men speaking, he must be the leader of the dead. Interesting that even the dead needed rulers.

A man that Ingrid had not noticed spoke up, "Yes he will." This man was in a chair tucked in the corner of the room by the hearth. "He'll come for me. He's tried before many times with many three-eyed ravens." Ingrid did not know what 'three-eyed ravens' were but she doubted he was talking about birds. It seemed as if he was referring to himself, but how was he a bird? Ingrid frowned, confused. These people were very strange indeed.

"Why?" Asked the man next to him, "What does he want?"

"An endless night. He wants to erase this world and I am its memory." Ingrid looked at Davos in confusion. Why did he not explain anything to her? She felt annoyed at her ignorance. How can a man be a memory? Davos ignored her look and stared at the boy instead.

"That's what death is isn't it? Forgetting, being forgotten. If we forget where we've been, what we've done – we're not men anymore. Just animals. You're memories don't come from books, you're stories aren't just stories." There was a pause of silence as everyone took in this information. Ingrid thought of the stories and books and songs her people use to keep history alive. What would happen if everyone stopped singing and writing and telling stories in the torgus? Her people would be forgotten, like they never existed. Their histories would be forever lost to the future. Yes, Ingrid thought, this man was right. Death was forgetting.

"If I wanted to erase the world of men I'd start with you."

A little man spoke out from the opposite corner. "How will he find you?" Ingrid had heard about little men before. There were some in Eurkos, but she had never seen one before.

"His mark is on me." The sitting man said showing a burn on his arm. "He always knows where I am." Magic, thought Ingrid.

The King turned to this man saying, "We'll put you in the crypt where it's safest-"

"-No. We need to lure him into the open before his army destroys us all. I'll wait for him in the Godswood."

"You want us to use you as bait?" Lady Stark asked, her tone of voice suggesting she was not pleased with this idea. Ingrid wondered if the Lady was upset because they were close. She pondered their relationship: family or lovers?

"We're not leaving you alone out there –" The short girl on the other side of the King cut in. Family, Ingrid decided. This woman would not be upset if the two were lovers, unless she was also his lover, but Ingrid felt that unlikely.

"-He won't be." Another man interrupted. This one had shaggy hair and a determined face. "I'll stay with him, with the Ironborn. I took this castle from you; let me defend you now." Ingrid wondered who the 'iron born' were. How can one be born of iron? Were they men of iron? She did not understand the ways of these people, but she chose to take advantage of the pause in conversation.

"How many fighters do you have?" She asked this 'iron' man.

His head jerked towards her, surprised. His eyes briefly flickered towards the King and Lady Stark before returning back to hers. "Thirty." He swallowed. Ingrid frowned. If this sitting man needed protection, shouldn't they have more fighters protecting him? Perhaps they did not have the numbers.

Ingrid turned towards the sitting man she could barely see. "You are important, yes?" The man did not speak. Ingrid ignored this. "Protecting you is important?"

Again he did not speak. The others in the room all looked at the sitting man for answers that he did not give. Ingrid took this as an affirmative. She nodded. "Then we shall also protect you." She turned to face the man with shaggy hair. "I will send a clan to aid your fighters." The man looked surprised.

"How many men do you have?" The Queen asked suddenly. Ingrid turned to find the Queen looking at her.

"A thousand fighters." She answered. There was a collected intake of air from the room followed by quiet mumbling. The Queen widened her eyes slightly at the news. Ingrid amended her statement lest they get the wrong idea. "We have fewer horses."

The Queen looked at the little man by her side, then Ser Davos, then Ingrid. "I was under the impression your clans were small."

Ingrid raised her brow. "They are."

"How do you have one thousand men?" Ingrid now understood her shock.

"When Ser Davos asked for aid, I send my own message to the surround clans for aid. They answered my plea by sending some of their own fighters to go with me." Ingrid looked around to the room at the others lining the table. They were all watching her, some frowning, some with wide eyes, some with blank faces. "They sent fighters because they know me." Ingrid explained, looking back at the Queen. "They know I am a good fighter and a honorable chief and they trust my judgment. They know that if I am fighting someone else's war, it must be a great war."

Ingrid looked back at the 'iron' man. "You have thirty fighters; now you shall have double that. We are here to help, let us help." There was a certain amount of respect on this man's face, and the faces of some of the others in the room and Ingrid hoped that they would be willing to accept her aid. The man nodded once, and Ingrid nodded back, and the battle plans continued.

A head flew by Davos' face. He balked. Davos knew that battles could be brutal, he had his share of fighting and it was always bloody. But he noticed a difference between the fighters in the clans of Eurkos and the bannermen in Westeros. These clans, these people, fought with every fiber of their being. Davos ducked as a sword came hurtling towards his head.

He was bloody, but not nearly as much as Aldvilde, who had decided she liked slicing her opponents open to prevent them from attacking.

Davos had noticed that the Alptan people were fiercely protective and very prideful. They did not waste any time running into battle, yelling loudly with their chosen weapon raised high above their heads. They were honorable yes, but firmly believed that all was fair in war. They used every circumstance to their advantage and would not give an inch. If they were overwhelmed in battle, it was due to numbers, not for lack of effort.

Ingrid was somewhere in the midst of the battle, shouting orders and rallying cries. Davos was amazed she had the energy to do so while she swung her axe around. A mace appeared in the peripheral of his vision and Davos jerked back, only for the weapon to halt. Bjornen gripped the handle of the weapon with his thick arms and tore the blade away from its owner, using the axe in his right hand to swing down into his opponent's head. Bjornen let his blade fall with the body and examined the new mace he held in his left hand. Flipping it once, he grinned, raised his brows at Davos, and sprinted back into the fray.

Once thing Davos was sure of, he never wanted to be on the opposing side of their blades.

"What will you do now?" Davos asked as he and Ingrid exited the room with the rest of the council. "There should be a few hours until dawn."

"I must find the other chiefs." Ingrid replied. "Now that I have heard the battle plans, I need to tell the others." Davos hummed and continued walking, placing his arms behind his back.

"That man with the hair like fire," Ingrid started, her mind on an interesting interaction at the end of the meeting. "Why was he flirting with the tall blonde woman? Are they lovers?" Ingrid did not know these people. Sometimes she thought it was better this way if they were to die, but at other times she gave in to her curiosity. They live so differently; Ingrid wanted to understand them.

Davos started. "Tormund?" He questioned. Ingrid did not know what a 'tormund' was, but thought this might have been the man's name. She nodded.

"No," He chortled, "they are not lovers, although I suspect he wants them to be."

"Because he wants her or because he just wants?" Ingrid asked.

Davos shrugged, "With Tormund you never know. I suppose because she's a challenge for him, or because she's a fighter." Ingrid made a noise of acknowledgement.

"Either way, he is a man, and this may be his last night alive." Davos cast a sideways look at Ingrid. "Are you asking for any particular reason?" Ingrid understood what he was asking by his sly smile and twinkling eyes. She barked out a laugh and hit his arm.

"If this is to be my last night, I will not be spending it with a man I do not know." She shook her head at his foolishness. "I will be spending it with friends."

"Chief Ingrid!" called a voice from behind her. Ingrid and Davos turned to see the little man walking towards them. "May I have a word?" He asked, as he got closer.

Ingrid turned to look at Davos, who grinned, touched her shoulder, and walked away.

"What is your name?" Ingrid asked before the little man stopped in front of her. He frowned and said, "No, I suppose you would not know my name." He look up at her face and smiled. "I am Tyrion Lannister."

"And what is it that you want Tyrion Lannister?" Ingrid asked with a friendly smile of her own. Tyrion moved to stand closer to her, but angled his body so he was looking over the railing towards to the courtyard. Ingrid copied his movement slightly, keeping her shoulders facing him. "I thought you were speaking with the man in the chair."

Tyrion grinned at her description. "Bran, yes I was." He frowned in thought. "But then he hinted that I should speak with you." He looked at her again and then realized that he had never answered her question. "Ser Davos says that you are a good fighter."

Ingrid nodded, "I am."

"He also said that you are a good strategist."

"I am."

"What do you think of our strategy?"

Ingrid narrowed her eyes, observing the many stations still at work as the night settled. "I think you do not have enough men."

"Yes, I think you are right."

"You are lucky that we have come." Ingrid said. "We will fill the empty spaces your men cannot fill."

Tyrion nodded, once again looking up at Ingrid. "I wanted to thank you, as Hand of the Queen; we are grateful for your aid."

Ingrid looked back at Tyrion and cocked her head. "Does the Queen not have two hands, she must appoint another to be one?" She did not understand these people. She could not tell when they were being literal and when they were using an expression. She worried if she was becoming lax in her observations for she had not noticed that the Queen had only one hand.

Tyrion took a moment to understand her question before he burst out in laughter. "No, no, it means that I am her second; her closest advisor." He explained. "Do you not have a name for that? What do you call your closest advisors in Eurkos?"

"My closest advisor."

"…That is easy to remember."

"Yes." There was a pause of silence, uncomfortable as Tyrion rocked back and forth on his heels searching for a response. Ingrid, bypassing Tyrion's awkward fumble, drew his attention to another one of her questions. This man was notable for his brain, she remembered. He would be able to answer many of her questions.

"You are not fighting." She stated, remembering the conversation that happened during the meeting.

"No." Tyrion replied, unhappy at this turn of events. "My Queen wants me in the crypts instead." Ingrid nodded, glad that he had brought up the topic of her question.

"What are 'the crypts'?" She asked.

Tyrion drew out of his discontented state, "You don't have crypts where you're from?" Ingrid shook her head in response.

"They are where we bury our dead. Well," He amended, "the dead of ancient houses at least."

"You bury your dead?" Ingrid thought this was interesting. She never heard of burying the dead before. Why would they confine their families' bones underground when they could be free to ride the winds? She wondered how this tradition came to be.

"You don't?" Tyrion asked, surprised.

Ingrid shook her head again. "No, we burn them."

"All of them?"

"We do not have the choice." Ingrid explained, understanding that this man was curious as well. "If we are attacked by invaders stronger that us, we must be ready to leave at any time. We cannot carry our ancestors' bones with us." She said indignantly.

"No," Tyrion said quietly. "No, I suppose not." After a short while he spoke again. "Well, at least you would be safe from the Night King's army. If you burn the bodies, he would have no bodies to join his army of dead."

Throughout the day, Ingrid slowly understood the enemy she would be facing soon. This Night King was strong. He commanded dead that had risen with magic, able to fight through any hurt because they were already dead.

"The Night King can raise your dead?" She clarified.

"Yes, because we don't burn them."

"Instead," Ingrid raised a brow, staring hard at Tyrion's face. "You bury them in crypts."

Tyrion frown confused at her tone. "Yes, that is what I said, we bury…" His face changed drastically from confusion to horror. "Oh, gods." He whispered before turning abruptly and striding back towards the council room.

Ingrid wondered if he also realized that burying the dead was a foolish tradition. She turned back around to continue on her original task of finding the other chiefs. What a strange little man, she thought as she descended the stairs.

As much as Davos liked staying with the Alpta, there were things in Westeros he missed. Like wine. Davos was sorely disappointed to find that Eurkos did not grow grapes, and so they did not have red wine. They had other beverages of course: ale, brandy, honey mead, and clean water that they get from freshwater mountain springs, but no wine. And Davos missed wine.

Davos noticed that they did not have some of the same goods Westeros and Essos had. In some cases, they could not grow tropical foods due to their cooler climate. However, they were also allies and trade partners with the warmer islands to the southwest, which grew such foods, except grapes. And the ships that were built at the docks of Flokavaroi were efficient for travel and trade, or so Davos had been told.

Nevertheless, it seemed to Davos the longer he stayed that these clans were incredibly knowledgeable and advanced in some ways: they were able to use indoor plumbing and warm water, they conducted energy by burning stones called 'coal,' they made inventions that aided with daily life, war, and travel; it was clear that the Alpta were capable of a great many things. But, Davos through wryly drinking his mead and wishing it was wine, they were still not as advanced as he would like.

Ingrid stood in the cold night air watching the some of the Eurkosian smiths help the Winterfell smiths with the new dragonglass weapons. She was glad they could offer their services; it was important that everyone had one dragonglass blade. Ingrid turned her head when she heard footsteps coming up behind her.

"Chief Deildara had agreed to send her clan to the Godswood to protect the man in the chair." Aldvilde said, stopped at Ingrid's side.

"Bran," Ingrid corrected, remembering his name. "And the others?"

"Odesass will take his people to the battlements. He has the best archers." Aldvilde mildly explained. Ingrid knew this, but accepted the explanation with a nod. "Two clansmen are going to protect the ones in the crypts. The other clansmen have agreed to fill in the empty spaces."

"Good." Ingrid said, finally looking at Aldvilde. "We will be more helpful if we are moving. It is almost time, everyone should be resting while they can." Aldvilde nodded, shouting at Bjornen to convey the message before turning back to Ingrid.

Ingrid gave Aldvilde a look, "I could have done that." Aldvilde shrugged with a smile, "But you didn't. I did."

Ingrid rolled her eyes and looked away. "It may be our last hours, what would you like to do?" She asked.

Aldvilde grinned wolfishly, giving Ingrid a side-glance, "I want a man."

Ingrid scoffed.

"What?" Aldvilde exclaimed. "I want to enjoy myself on my last night alive!"

"Of course!" Cried Ingrid. "And here I thought you'd want to spend your last night with your best friend!"

"Bah! If you are my best friend, you would know me better." Aldvilde laughed, knocking Ingrid in the arm. Ingrid laughed in response, and angled her body, causing Aldvilde to miss.

"If you are wanting a man," Ingrid said, thinking of a past conversation, "I might know of one who is offering."

"Not Bjornen?" Aldvilde said, worried.

Ingrid laughed again, "Not Bjornen." She verified. "A wild man."

Aldvilde's eyes brightened and Ingrid grinned at her friend's excitement.

"Come," She threw her arm around Aldvilde's neck and led her towards the castle, "We shall find you a wild man!"

The two clansmen laughed as they searched the castle together. They found a small group of Westeros soldiers sitting by the hearth and stopped to listen as one sang. Hiding in the shadows, they waited. His song was melancholy and made Ingrid ache.

"That was beautiful," Ingrid said after he had finished.

The small group turned to see who spoke and Ingrid was able to see their faces. Ser Davos grinned upon seeing her and stood, moving to add another chair to the circle. The singing man moved to grab one as well before Aldvilde stepped it. "No, thank you. I will not be staying." Both men stopped, confused.

"Why not?"

Aldvilde grinned and stood in front of the wild man. "You." She said, commanding the attention of the room. "Have you ever had a woman from Eurkos?"

The wild man stared blankly for a moment before he too grinned. "No."

"Well, you will now." Aldvilde grabbed his collar and dragged him out of the room, uncaring of the audience she had procured.

Once they left, there was a small pattering of laughter and Ingrid sheepishly excused Aldvilde's behavior. "Aldvilde can be aggressive when she wants to be." This caused another round of light laughter before Davos moved back to his seat.

"Well, since Tormund is gone, you can have his seat."

"I know some of you," Ingrid said as she sat. Davos was there, of course, and the little man called Tyrion. "But I do not know you." She faced the tall woman she was seated by.

"I am Ser Brienne." She introduced with a big smile that made her face glow. Ingrid could not help by smile too.

"Ah! So you are a knight too!" She said, thinking back to her conversations with Ser Davos.

Ser Brienne's smile became impossibly larger. "Yes, I am."

"She just became one, in fact." Tyrion said, grinning and holding his goblet.

Ingrid did not understand the technicalities behind being a knight, but she understood that this was a special occasion for Ser Brienne. "Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"Who are you?" Ingrid asked the man that had spoken at the council meeting. She had noticed upon sitting that he had a hand of gold.

"Jaime Lannister." He introduced, dipping his head.

"Oh!" Ingrid said, recognizing the name. "So you are brothers?" She asked, gesturing to both Jaime and Tyrion. The two men nodded. Tyrion added, "Ser Jaime is also a knight."

"Are there many knights?" Ingrid asked.

"Yes," Jaime sighed, "Very many." Ingrid nodded, understanding that these knights are warriors. Of course they would need many to protect their large cities.

"Who are you?" Ingrid asked that last man, the one who had sung.

"Podrick Payne my lady," He said bowing, "I am Ser Brienne's squire."

Ingrid kept a smile on her face as her confusion bled through. "Squire? I do not know what that is."

Tyrion chuckled, "First you do not know what crypts are, and now you do not know squires?" He lifted his glass, ready to take a drink. "You must have a very strange culture, Chief Ingrid."

"No more than yours." Ingrid shrugged.

"Will you tell us my lady?" Podrick asked, leaning forward.

"Yes," Ingrid said, mimicking his stance. "As long as you stop calling me 'my lady'."

There was another round of laughter before everyone settled into their chairs ready to listen as Ingrid described life in Eurkos.

"We wish you a safe journey and pray for your health." Ingrid said, standing in front of Ser Davos as supplies was loading into a rowboat.

"Thank you," Davos replied, graciously. He watched at a grate of food was carried to the boat. "You have been very generous. I wish there was some way to repay you." He moved to offer her some money, but she stopped him.

"No." Ingrid said. "You have done much for my people. You have given us knowledge on many subjects. You have helped us win battles. You have healed my people and given me council." Ingrid smiled, "I do not take this assistance for granted."

She held out a hand towards Davos. "If you find yourself in need of aid…"

Davos grinned, shocked by her offer but pleased nonetheless. He gripped her hand in a tight handshake, shaking as she tightened her grip on his hand. "…I know where to send a raven." He finished, smiling.

Ingrid grinned back, baring her teeth, before stepping back into line with her clansmen.

"Until we meet again Ser Davos."

AN: I tried to keep the GOT characters as canon as possible. Let me know how I did!

Thanks for reading! Please review!