The Wall 304 AC.
Benjen Stark.
He had tried so hard to warn them, to rush to the nearby castle so as to tell them about the Night King crossing the Wall, only to find the Shadow Tower to be deserted upon his arrival. He had run as fast as he could. Benjen cursed his companion whose powers were diminished and who needed rest even more than he did. They had no horses, no way of getting to Castle Black quicker than by foot, and the Night King's taunts in his head almost made him want to fail.
Give up, Stark. Whatever you want to do will be useless now. I have crossed your useless defense.
You haven't won yet. Benjen growled internally.
Why are you still fighting your fate? Look what you've become because of them. Neither dead nor alive. They did to you what they did to me once, yet you still want to fight for them.
I am fighting for my family. He insisted.
Your family is the reason for your downfall. Have you learned nothing?
What do you mean?
Flashes of moments that he had never seen before, now almost blinded him. He could see a lake with water as red as blood and which was surrounded by corpses of Giants and Children of the Forest. A broad figure stood there smirking as he looked at the chaos and carnage. He then saw the same man, now with hatred in his eyes as snow appeared under his feet at each of his steps.
They cursed your ancestor, made his line unable to settle South of the Neck, else they would die horrible deaths. Yet you still serve them, you still obey their orders while most of your family died because of what they did. the Night King taunted him.
You're lying!
Why would I? I do not need you to fulfill my destiny. Your line will end soon enough and so will the curse of the Gods upon these lands.
You're the one bringing death upon these lands! You're the one who's cursed! Benjen protested.
So stubborn. I see it is not only the curse that my brother has passed on to you. the Night King chuckled before retreating to somewhere at the back of Benjen's mind.
He couldn't believe what he had seen and heard, yet in his heart, he knew it to be true. His foe had put forward solid arguments that he could not deny. The Child of the Forest was now watching him warily and Benjen could only imagine how he was staring back at him.
"Did the Old Gods truly curse my ancestor's line to die South of the Neck?"
"Your ancestor murdered our kind mercilessly and did not want to abide by the Pact we had made with the First Men. He brought this on himself."
Benjen wanted to yell at the being, to insult them and the gods for all that his family had suffered. Had they known? Had they realized that the saying Old Nan always told them about a Stark not faring well in the South was more than a mere story?
Mayhaps his father, Brandon, Lyanna, Ned…
He knew they wouldn't have believed the tales. How could they when he was the one who would always scoff and jape at Nan's expense. Now here he was sitting next to a Child of the Forest. He'd been brought back from the dead because of the Old Gods' magic, and he was running to try and help his family to fight against a new long night.
"No more pauses," Benjen said harshly. "We are close to Castle Black. You will rest when we get there."
The child didn't protest, only nodding whilst they resumed their journey, and Benjen felt a little guilty at the way he had treated his companion. He was angry at his fate, at his family's, angry at the Gods and the Children for what they did to them. Yet it still didn't give the Night King the right to annihilate all life as he wished to do.
The sight of the dragon flying towards the Wall prompted him to quicken his pace. He ran as fast as he could. Benjen knew that he was too far away, but the idea of seeing Jon was enough to give him strength. Ever since he'd learned about Jon's truth and the existence of the dragons, he had imagined his nephew flying through the sky on one. His thoughts had been filled with images of Jon's childhood when Benjen would come to visit Winterfell. As well as the last moments he'd spent with him at the Wall, and he'd chastised himself for not seeing his parents in his features and behavior.
Oh, Jon had wolf's blood for sure. His nephew had far so much restrained anger and a temper that was a thing to behold that for a moment Benjen had thought he was Brandon's. Now though the more he thought about it and the more he could point out Rhaegar's traits too. His face was more refined than any of Ned and Cat's children, and he remembered the melancholic look Rhaegar would throw at their table during the feasts in Harrenhal. It was a look as if he envied them for enjoying themselves.
"Wait! WAIT! JON!" he yelled, his heart clenching with despair as he heard the magnificent beast roar and fly away.
He did not have time to voice his despair, though, as he quickly understood why the dragon had to fly when he heard and saw a horde of Wights walking out through Castle Black's gates.
How?
"The Wall has been breached already." the child answered his unspoken question. "It has lost all of its protection."
"So they can cross everywhere? The Wall is useless? For True?" Benjen said in disbelief.
"It is not. There is still magic within it."
"But the dead -"
"Cannot be stopped, but they may be slowed." the being cut Benjen off. The former ranger then looked on incredulously as the Child pulled an intricately carved horn from under his shirt. "Go to your kin. Find the Song of Ice and Fire and give him his family heirlooms. He will know what to do with them."
"What will you do?"
"Sing my kind's last song. You should take shelter now." was all the Child said before turning to face the Wall.
The song that came from their lips was a lament. One that was so beautiful yet so sad to hear and Benjen was almost brought to tears as he listened to it. It sounded like a prayer and the more desperate that the prayer sounded, the more compelled he was to put some distance between him and the Child. Benjen felt it deep inside him and then he saw the runes from the horn react. He quickly realized what the horn was when the Child then brought it to his lips.
There had long been tales about a horn that could bring the Wall down. One that was hidden far beyond it and whilst he heard the cracks of the imposing ice structure when the Child blew the horn, he wasn't ready to see it crumble and fall as if it was made from nothing. The sound of the fall and the ice flying all over the place were impressive and were it not for the Child shielding him with his last remaining magic, then Benjen would have been crushed by ice and snow. Instead, he was simply buried beneath some of it.
It didn't take him long to reach the surface, and when he did, it was all now gone. The Wall was gone and with it the castles and the Night's Watch's purpose. Benjen hoped that none of his former brothers were still there and that the dead had gotten crushed beneath it for good. He however very quickly deflated and felt the hope leave him.
The force that had been sent by the Night King was small in comparison to the one the latter led, and the Child's move had probably managed to kill a sizable portion of those who had come here. The rest of them though were still up and moving, judging by the flames that he could see raining down the sky above. He grabbed Jon's belongings and rushed as fast as he could in that direction, feeling pain in his legs that he needed to ignore for the sake of his mission. If Jon was out there as he believed, then he had to warn him.
He prayed to the Old Gods, even despite his anger at them. He prayed to them to allow him to reach his nephew so that he could play his part in the wars to come, and for once they listened to him. A lone horse that had probably fled from Castle Black before it collapsed, now ran in his direction and stopped right in front of him. It seemed tame and not at all afraid of him, as opposed to any of the other living animals that never dared to approach him due to him not being quite alive. He didn't hesitate and jumped up on its back before riding off in the fire's direction. Benjen only then realized the number of injuries he had sustained now that he had stopped running.
He was a mess. Part of his leg bone was exposed, his shoulder was dislocated, and judging by the face of the first people he encountered, he surely looked as much a rotting corpse as those he had come to warn about.
"Damn me to the Seven Hells! You, Starks, are hard to kill!" he heard someone say, and soon recognized the man as Eddison Tollett.
"Jon… I need to see Jon… I need to see my nephew…" he said urgently, for as relieved as he was to see one of his brothers alive, there were more pressing matters to be discussed.
"You heard him. Tell the King his uncle is here." Edd ordered and Benjen gasped upon hearing these words.
King? Jon was King?
"But, my Lord, he is -"
"I know damn well what he is, it doesn't make him the king's uncle any less!" Edd yelled back at the man and Benjen was surprised to see the men defer to his dour companion.
Things must have changed greatly since I left…
His thoughts were quickly shut down as he then heard a most familiar voice that almost made his heart jump right out of his chest. There he was, his sister's son. Jon was clad in black armor with the sigil of his father's family worn proudly, and yet all Benjen could see was his nephew's grey eyes which were full of shock and yet filled with hope too.
"By the Gods… I heard you were… But… Uncle…"
It was all it took for Benjen to rush toward Jon and embrace him. He had dreamt of this moment for so long, of what he would say to him when he would see him again. How he would apologize for not seeing the obvious, for not protecting him as he should have, and for letting him swear his vows when he should have been King. How proud of him he was that he'd become what he'd been supposed to be. Yet it was none of that and a far different phrase that came from his mouth.
"We have to get back. The Night King. You've been played."
"What do you mean we've been played, uncle?" Jon frowned.
"We've been played, Jon, this was only a diversion. The Night King marches to Winterfell and he brings with him his full army. An army much larger than the one you faced here today."
Benjen could read a lot of emotions on his nephew's face. First disbelief, then understanding, defeat, and anger, before his look settled on determination.
"MOUNT UP! WE RIDE FOR WINTERFELL!"
He looked on with awe as Jon turned around, catching everyone's attention as he explained what was happening and how they had to hasten to get to Winterfell. His words were said with a strength that Benjen had never seen his nephew possess before. He'd always felt that Jon had the potential to become First Ranger after him. Now he realized that it was much more he had wished for him.
He was meant to be a king.
Benjen followed Jon's order without hesitation and was glad to smile as he caught an interaction between him and the woman that he now had no doubt was Daenerys Targaryen.
He bore witness to their bond throughout their journey back to Winterfell and was grateful to Edd for filling in the blanks as they were riding. Never in a million years had he thought that Jon would end up being married, and it warmed his heart now as it was what he had always wished for his nephew. Before leaving on the range to find his missing comrades, Benjen had hoped that he would come back in time to talk more sense into Jon so that he would not swear his vows. He hoped instead that Jon would leave the Wall to find his own way in the world. He would have been proud of him anyway, but he'd always felt that Jon's potential would have been wasted at the Wall.
Now I know why…
"Is he happy? Is their match a good one?" he asked Edd, hoping for his nephew that it was.
"Aye, I've never seen him happier, brother. Were it not for the dead, then I think we would all be at peace."
"The South has accepted him?" he questioned.
"They would have had no choice in the matter. Queen Daenerys is a fierce woman, even without her dragons, and the only one she wanted at her side was your sod of a nephew. Even before knowing who he was."
This comforted Benjen and when they finally paused and settled, he insisted on having his Goodniece present with Jon when they talked.
"Forgive me for not talking to you sooner, Uncle. I -"
"There's nothing to forgive, Jon," Benjen said and saw his nephew wince though he knew not why. "If anything, I should be the one apologizing."
"Uncle?"
"I didn't know… I… I didn't know you were hers. Had I known, I -"
"I am glad to hear it, uncle," Jon said, surprising him. "Lord Reed had told me that he wasn't sure if you knew the truth. That he didn't think you did, because you were closer to my mother than any and you wouldn't have left me alone had you known."
"He was right. I heard they were married? That you are trueborn?"
"They named me Baelon Targaryen," Baelon said and Benjen chuckled fondly.
"Baelon. Why doesn't it surprise me. She wanted to name her son after Bael the Bard. I bet she would have called you Bael." he shook his head. "Old Nan always said that name had power. Lyanna… She named you after the King beyond the Wall, and you saved most of the Free Folk from a horrible fate. You've become a king on your own."
"Aye, but the fight is not over. Not yet."
"No, it isn't. The Child of the Forest who saved my life called you the Song of Ice and Fire." Benjen said, thinking back to the creature. "It gave me something for you and told me that you would need your family heirlooms to win the war. These were both Bloodraven's possessions."
He heard both Daenerys and Baelon gasp at their kin's mention.
Benjen's nephew grabbed the Targaryen banner that covered the heirlooms and shakily unwrapped it, cursing out loud as he saw a weirwood bow and a quiver with weirwood arrows with Dragonglass tips. Yet in truth, it was the longsword that caught his attention. Its blade was obviously Valyrian steel and yet it looked nothing like Ice.
"It cannot be…" he heard Baelon whisper.
"Aye, 'Tis Dark Sister, nephew, and it is yours to wield. I heard the Children's prophecy about the Song of Ice and Fire who will lead the fight to protect the living. I know the Night King's secret.
"His secret?"
"He is a warg, J-Baelon. A powerful one, but still a warg. That is how he controls the dead. He then lends his powers to the ones he's created."
"You mean Craster's sons?"
"Aye. They also are wargs, and when you defeat them, the ones they control will fall with them."
"So you believe it will be the same with the Night King." Baelon deduced.
"I know it will. I… I can share his thoughts sometimes." Benjen answered to a gasp from his nephew. "He controls the dead and I am standing at death's door. He wants me to join him in destroying my family, but I cannot. I will not." Benjen said determinedly.
"Why does he want to destroy our family?"
"I don't know. He is a tricksy son of a bitch. The only thing I know for certain is that he is after Bran. I believe that him being the Three-Eyed Raven is a threat to his power." he said and frowned as Baelon's expression turned somber.
"Everything goes back to Bran." his nephew mumbled. "But you said you share the Night King's thoughts? Does he share yours too?"
"Aye, he does. I know that by telling you this, by me being near you that he can spy on your movements and prepare for your arrival, so I will stay away from you from now on. But I needed to give this to you and to tell you what I knew."
"I… Thank you, Uncle. I hope we will be able to spend time together after all of this is over." Baelon sighed, the sadness of his voice reflecting what Benjen himself felt at that moment.
He wouldn't say it out loud, but he wasn't sure that he would be there when the Night King would be dealt with. The link he had with his enemy frightened him, and because of it, he wondered more than once if he too would fall when the Night King did. For now, he gave his sister's son a pained smile. Benjen then prayed to the gods that if he shouldn't make it, at least Baelon and the rest of his family would.
"Can I at least ask about my new Goodniece?" he said, changing the subject to keep his dark thoughts at bay. "It seems you have gotten a pretty lass for yourself, nephew. Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but we are family now. I hope you're not offended by my informal remarks."
"I am quite used to Rickon's teasing, Benjen," Daenerys said softly. "I think you would have to be a man of the Free Folk to beat your nephew's crude jokes."
"Ah, Rickon… The last time I saw him he was a wee lad, but prone to mischief already at his age."
"He is still the same mischievous lad, but now with the North at his beck and call." Baelon chuckled.
They went on to discuss Rickon's latest feats, as well as Arya's and Sansa's, and while Benjen felt grateful to hear about his nieces and nephew, he noted that none of them were mentioning Bran. Not wanting to dampen the mood, he resorted to listening and laughing with his nephew and Goodniece until they took their leave to rest.
He then stayed away from them, interacting only with Edd and some of the Lords of the North who were not afraid of him. He was glad to see Howland Reed's daughter was still alive. Yet as he saw her leave Baelon's side with the weirwood bow in her possession, he couldn't help but wonder why his nephew decided she should be the one to wield it. Was it to reward her for the role she had played in keeping Bran alive?
"That's a nice bow you have there!" he said, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Aye. the King gave it to me so I could lead the archers in the front, or so he said." Meera Reed answered pensively.
"Well, if what I know about people from the crannog is true, then you must be good with a bow. I don't remember if your father was, though."
"He isn't. I was taught how to use a bow by my mother, and I never missed even one rabbit during my hunts," she said proudly.
"Good. White Walkers are bigger, so you won't miss them either."
"I don't plan to, my Lord. I have a thing or two to settle with the bastards," she smirked at him, and he found himself echoing the sentiment.
Winterfell 304 AC.
Rickon Stark.
Being surrounded by all the Lords and Ladies in charge of the defense of Winterfell made the solar feel ridiculously small to Rickon. He had asked his sisters and brother to bring every commander of their largest forces to explain what was happening and the plan he had hatched with Lord Davos and Sarella Martell. Both of whom had been extremely helpful in readying the keep while he was trying to unlock the mystery behind the Night King. With them all there and looking at him, he found that he now missed Ghost's reassuring presence at that moment. The Direwolf had not come to his side as there was no room left for him to do so. Composing himself, he tried to muster as much confidence as he could so as to not appear weak in front of the crowd.
"I summoned you all here because we will soon be under attack." he declared somberly. "The Night King has tricked us all. The army that my brother and his wife have faced was a diversion, a ruse to get us to split our forces as he was heading toward his main goal."
"And may I ask what his main goal is, Your Grace?" Lord Davos asked, tension clear in his voice.
"Me. The Night King is after me." Bran said before he could answer, confirming his suspicions from earlier that his brother knew far more than he let on.
"Why is he after you? What did you do?" Lyanna Mormont asked harshly.
"He wants to erase this world, and I am its memory," Bran answered, making Rickon roll his eyes as he knew it was yet another lie.
"His goal is not the main problem here, my Lords, my Ladies." he then intervened. "What is important is that he is here. The storm is at our door and we need to protect ourselves until the larger part of our army returns."
"Your Grace, with all due respect, this will not happen for many days, probably weeks." Edmure declared.
"For the foot soldiers, maybe. Not for calvary and certainly not for the dragons," he replied.
"It will not be easy for them to come back here. Even when they do, because of the storm they might not be able to fly as efficiently." Sarella added. "In the meantime, we have set many obstacles and traps for the dead to overcome and to help us withstand a siege."
"I do not think a siege is the best way to deal with the enemy." Lord Royce declared haughtily.
"Have you seen the enemy, Lord Royce? Do you know how many dead men are out there? Can you give us an estimate so we can put in place a different battle plan?" Sarella retorted.
"The Northmen and ourselves have already ridden through these lands. We have the advantage of knowing the terrain. A siege means that we would be surrounded. Since the dead have no minds of their own, we should lead them where we want them to be. That way we would manage their arrival on one front." Royce suggested.
"The dead are set on destroying us, yes, but the Night King and the White Walkers are not simple-minded," Bran explained. "They have their own battle plans of which we do not know anything about."
"I would rather not have men out there, Lord Royce," Rickon said.
"You already have men out there. You sent them on a futile mission and we are now stretched thin."
"Which is why we should wait for a siege instead of riding to the enemy." Sarella pointed out before Rickon could curse at the man, knowing what he was implying. "We will prepare a mounted attack as soon as our forces come back. Once they are here we can then take them in a double envelopment, but until then, we must stay behind the keep's walls."
"The Knights of the Vale are a formidable cavalry force. We should use their potential to -"
"If you do this, you will die." Bran simply said, startling Yohn Royce and the other Lords and quieting any argument they were preparing for.
"My brother is the main goal of the Night King." Rickon declared. "He will know where to find him because of the mark on his forearm and he will stop at nothing until he sees him dead."
"What happens if Bran is killed, your Grace?" Theon asked hesitantly.
"You would give my nephew to this -" Edmure interrupted angrily.
"No, no, my Lord! That is not what I was suggesting. I would never -"
"We know you wouldn't, Theon," Sansa said and Rickon refrained from rolling his eyes, contrary to his other sister.
"I know what you're all thinking. That the life of one is worth little compared to those of others. However, I can assure you that my death will not stop the Night King." Bran said as he looked at those in the room.
"Of course, you would say that." Lyanna spat. "You're the one whose life is a threat to us all."
"Do you suggest offering young Bran Stark as a sacrifice, Lady Mormont?" Tyrion Lannister asked indignantly, which made Rickon frown in turn. He hadn't forgotten Missandei's warning and now he carefully watched the Imp's reaction to Lyanna's response.
"Would that I could, would I be certain it would help the situation… But he is my king's brother and he is of the North. Moreover, and even though I loathe to do so, I agree that we do not know if it will be enough. I won't have my king become a kinslayer for nothing."
"It doesn't mean that we cannot use him to our advantage." Sarella intervened. "Knowing he is the Night King's target, I suggest we use him as bait to lure him exactly where we want to."
"You mean to use my nephew -"
"He will not be alone, Lord Edmure. I am not foolish enough to make it so he would not be protected. We just need to find -"
"The Godswood." Bran cut Sarella off, while Rickon felt unnerved by his intervention. Either his brother had already seen this conversation or he had figured out the outcome of the fight.
A weight landed on Rickon at these words. As logical as using Bran would be in this regard, he felt that it was not the right thing to do. The fact that Bran was so adamant to go there meant that he felt the safest there which should bring him comfort and were he to still think of Bran as a brother, it would. The problem was that it had been some time since he'd truly named Bran a brother.
There was another place. Another one where he knew the Night King would have trouble finding him, but he didn't know if he wanted to share this information with Bran yet. Moreover, they wanted to use him as bait and so he couldn't stay truly hidden.
Mayhaps the Godswood wouldn't be a bad idea after all . he thought before his gaze caught Bran's small smile.
He let Sarella explain her plan further and agreed to station men at the outer walls of Winterfell. He then frowned once more when Theon suddenly volunteered to protect Bran.
"I took this castle from you. Let me defend you now." The Ironborn said to a nod from the Three-Eyed Raven.
"I would like to discuss things with my family if you do not mind." It was more of an order than a request on Rickon's part, prompting everyone else to leave except for the four of them. "You knew, didn't you? You knew this was going to happen." he then accused his brother when they were alone.
"It was one of the numerous possibilities I have seen. I realized it was the definite one at the same time you did." Bran replied and yet he believed him not.
"Why didn't you say anything?" Arya asked reproachfully. "Why didn't you say he was after you before?"
"Because he was also after Jon. He hates him because of his setbacks with the Free Folk. I didn't know until now which one of us he hated the most. Not until you figured it out."
"Horseshit," Rickon said.
"Have you and Lord Reed found out how to kill the Night King?" Bran asked, ignoring what he'd just said.
"Aye, we did," he answered, making both his sisters gasp. "His magic comes from Dragonglass. So Dragonglass is how he can be killed."
"A blow through the heart should end him then. I saw the Night King's creation on the day we were attacked beyond the Wall. They drove a Dragonglass shard into his heart." Bran added when the boy king frowned before Rickon continued on with his findings.
"That's not all I saw. The Children of the Forest… They went to Bran the Builder because only someone with Stark blood would be able to defeat him. Something to do with us being kin and so we carry the same magic in our blood."
"So you're saying…"
"That it must be one of us, yes." Rickon interrupted Bran's question, somewhat fearing what he may say.
Silence fell across the room, Rickon watching his siblings as they understood the importance of what he was now implying.
"Of course, it makes sense now." Bran finally said.
"How? How can we…" Arya stammered.
"Bran will not be able to do it by himself." Sansa pointed out. "I know he has powerful magic inside of him, but he can't fight, and I don't think I would stand a chance against the Night King either."
"But our blood makes you a target of the Night King's wrath too," Rickon explained. "That is why you cannot stay alone either. We will need to split up into two groups so that Arya and I can fight him if need be."
"What do you mean, if need be? You just said -" Sansa's confused voice was quickly interrupted by Arya's far less so.
"He's hoping Jon will come back in time." Arya deduced. "You think he'll be the one to end him, don't you?"
"He knows the enemy better than we do. He's spent most of his life outside of Winterfell fighting him and his minions. He killed a White Walker and he has a dragon. It has to be for something. It has to!" Rickon said desperately.
"You're right, and we will do our best to wait for him." Arya smiled reassuringly. "What do you suggest?"
"Bran wants to be used as bait, so I will stay with him in the Godswood, while you two will hide in the crypts."
"The crypts? Are you serious?" his sister said with a shake of her head.
"There's a place deep within which is protected by the magic of the Children of the Forest."
"How?" Bran asked suddenly. "How can it still be… They all died. That is why the Wall couldn't stand against the Night King."
"The Old Gods work in mysterious ways, Bran. You better than others should know that. As long as there is a Stark in Winterfell, the magic contained here will always remain."
"So you want us to hide in the crypts?" Sansa frowned, confused.
"Aye, I will stay and protect Bran in the Godswood while you and Arya -"
"No." Bran's definite tone was new and strange to the King in the North. "You should go with Sansa, brother. We need to track the Night King's movement. As wargs, you and I have a better chance to do so."
"Arya is also a warg." he retorted as he tried to figure out his brother's mind.
"Not as powerful as you are."
"But -"
"If I fall, you will be the new Three-Eyed Raven. They've prepared you to replace me, haven't they?"
Rickon flinched at his brother's question. He could hear the tinge of bitterness in Bran's voice and suddenly he felt uncomfortable.
"I do not aim to take your place in whichever role the Gods chose for you to fill. I just wanted to find a way to help in the battle to come."
"Then go with Sansa."
"I promised Jon I would not let the Night King get to you! I have to protect you!" he said adamantly.
"And I have to protect you." Bran retorted. "You have to stay with Sansa. You're the King in the North and you are my heir as the world's memory should anything happen to me."
The words brought back painful memories and Rickon knew Bran had chosen them to trigger something in him. He looked away, clenching his fist as anger threatened to overwhelm him.
How could he dare to try manipulating him at such an important moment?
"He is right, Rickon," Arya said, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I will stay with him and you will protect Sansa."
"I hated you back then. Back when you forced me to leave you." Rickon spat dejectedly.
"And you hate me still. Not for the same reasons, but you do." Bran responded, his words carrying that same tone of bitterness he'd noticed earlier.
"I hope for your sake and mine that we manage to pull this off. For if we do not, if anything happens to any of us, then I swear on the Old Gods that I will never forgive you for this," he said glaring at the thing he'd named a brother once.
He couldn't stand being in the same room as Bran anymore. Rickon needed to get away and so he did, ignoring his sister's protests and calls for him to stay. Bran was the reason for their misery and Rickon didn't believe him when he said he didn't know more than he'd let on. He could still remember his vision vividly and the way the Night King had singled his brother out.
Why their foe was so focused on Bran was still a mystery to him, but the fact that he would stop at nothing to end a crippled boy's life had to mean something. Bran was someone who Rickon knew was still far from controlling the power he had in him and who could become dangerous at some point. Now he began to wonder if it was for this reason that he was being targeted.
Was it the same with Jon? Was it because of his Stark blood and the numerous times that he had thus far foiled the Night King's plans?
He was not surprised to see Ghost, Nymeria, and the rest of the wolves in the middle of the courtyard. The youngest members of the pack were agitated, no doubt feeling the fear of the advancing threat.
"I will not ask you to fight, my friends," he said as Ghost came near him. "Protect your pups, run south to our camps. I'll send a raven to inform them that the enemy is near and to follow your lead."
Nymeria growled and shook her head, making him smile.
"I know you want to stay with us, sister. But you also have a responsibility to your pack and -" he chuckled as Nymeria turned to one of the wolves and began a discussion with him, totally ignoring Rickon's words. "You're as stubborn as Arya!"
The Direwolf huffed and rolled her eyes, a thing Arya was more likely to do these days. Soon enough, the wolf she was talking to looked at him inquisitively and Rickon gave him a reassuring smile.
"Aye, I will take care of those who stay. You have my word," he said, knowing what the wolf wanted to hear.
A howl from Nymeria was all it took for the pack to split in two. Some of the youngest wanted to protest but knew better than to do so, yet Rickon could feel their reluctance in following the appointed leading wolf. He let them say their goodbyes to their pack and watched with a clenched heart as they part ways. It felt to him like a symbol of the truth of what was coming to them.
He looked around him and saw his friends training with great resolve, as were other people. They were his to protect, his responsibility, and he knew now what he had been brought back to do.
The Battle of Winterfell 304 AC.
Sansa.
She had wished to argue more, to speak up and tell both her sister and brother that she too should be allowed to help protect their home. Yet seeing the worry on both their faces and listening to Rickon speak how he did, she'd decided it was for the best if she held her tongue. Her anger and annoyance were the last things he needed with all that was going on. So instead she gave him as much support and encouragement as she could.
When the time came to make her way to the crypts, she felt the need to speak up rise once more, and once more she fought it down. Her uncle Edmure had raised the point about the dead rising in the crypts and how that had been used to shoot down the idea of using it for safety already, only for Rickon to look to her to tell him what made things different now. While she didn't completely understand what that reason was, she did her best to explain things how they had been explained to her. Rickon nodded encouragingly to her as she did so.
Her brother had somehow found a safe place for them where not even the dead could follow, so she spoke the words and allowed Rickon's faith in them to be what guided her. He'd not put her in danger. All he'd done and arranged had shown that to be so. Still, as they walked through the dark and cold crypts, as they passed by the statues of her fallen kin, Sansa would be a liar if she said that she didn't worry a little. In this, she was not alone. Edmure, Tyrion, and so many others who'd not play a role in the fight to come all wore the same expression as she did. In the end, it was only when they reached their destination that she and they began to calm down.
"You found this place?" she asked Rickon as she looked around the large open chamber.
"Aye, I was guided here by the Old Gods," Rickon said.
She heard Edmure scoff and decided to ignore it. Instead turning her attention to the chamber they were in rather than to her uncle's irritation at being there. Not that Edmure had put up such a big fight when it had been suggested and though he'd said it was ostensibly to help guard her, Sansa wasn't completely certain that was his only reason for not leading his men in the battle to come. Clearing her mind of such thoughts, Sansa looked to the roots of the tree that seemed to be growing far above them. They covered the entire roof of the chamber and carried on down some walls and even into the ground of the chamber itself.
"The Weirwood," Rickon said from beside her when he saw where she was looking.
"The one in the Godswood?" she asked in disbelief.
"Is there another I don't know of." Rickon japed before ducking out of the way when she went to hit him on the head.
"You're lucky you're so fast," she said while trying not to smile.
"Nah, I'm not that fast. You're just so very slow, sister mine."
She laughed at his words, then watched as around her people set up what was to serve as their beds, and to one side stores were being brought in. There were no more than two hundred people who'd remain here while the battle raged outside the walls and hopefully that was as close it ever got to Winterfell itself. Of that two hundred, less than forty were fighting men. Though each person here, including her, all wore a Dragonglass dagger just in case. Sansa held the Catspaw dagger too, despite her trying to give it to either Arya or Rickon.
"You know what I must do." Rickon said softly and at first, she didn't hear him "Sansa." he called out a little more loudly "You know what I must do." he said and she looked at him angrily.
"You promised," she said, her voice full of recrimination.
"I'm a king, Sansa. I must lead my men and do as they do."
"Jon…"
"Will return, I know he will." Rickon said determinedly "But until then it falls to me. I cannot let my friends fight and not do so by their sides. The North needs to be led and it falls upon me to do so, otherwise, I should have just stayed dead."
"Don't you say that. Don't you ever say that." she said, grabbing her brother and hugging him tightly to her "I…."
"Aye, I know," he said when she let him go.
Sansa wanted to rant at him, rave at him, and call him out for lying to her and for breaking his promise to both her and Arya. She could see how much it pained him to do it and so again she held her tongue. Instead, she simply spoke to him as a sister who loved him with all that she was. A sister that she'd not been when she and Jon had marched to retake Winterfell and one it had taken her some time after they'd done so to be once more.
"I love you, little brother. Don't you ever forget or doubt that for one moment I love you and I want your promise that you'll not overly risk yourself."
"I won't."
"Promise me…"
"I promise you," Rickon said, and then she felt his arms around her and her tears began to fall.
"Don't cry. It pains me to see your tears." Rickon said as he wiped her eyes, and she did her very best to compose herself and even smile at him, hard though it was "I love you, Sansa, and I promise that this won't be the last time we see each other. You, me, Arya, Dany, and Jon, we will see the Dawn."
It was to the Hound that she moved to when Rickon left, her uncle raised his voice as Rickon did so only for Sandor to silence him with a look. Later when they sat down to eat, she found she had no appetite and again it was Sandor who got her to do so. His words brought a half-smile to her face and the food itself was then welcomed. She made sure that everyone was as comfortable as they could be, and spoke to her uncle and Tyrion before finally turning in for the night. Then she knelt by what she'd taken for her bed and offered prayers to the Old Gods and the New to protect her family and keep them safe.
When she woke up the next morning, it took her some time to realize just exactly where she was. Once she did, rather than herself, it was to others that she looked first. Sansa offered as much comfort as she could to those who seemed more worried than she was. By the time they broke their fasts, a sense of peace had seemed to come over people where there had not been one before and she was happy to have played her part.
That peace did not last long and soon they heard sounds from above them that caused more worries and fears. Again she tried all in her power to help people through their fears and with some this worked far better than others. Her uncle however was not one of these and his words were spoken too loudly and were unhelpful. Something she made clear to him and something he then pouted about, much to her annoyance. Tyrion then came to speak to her when they sat to eat their midday, or what to them was midday, meal.
"You do that well, you know," Tyrion said between bites of his food.
"Do what?"
"Act as the Lady of Winterfell."
"I'm not the Lady of Winterfell," she said, shaking her head.
"No, of course, you're not," Tyrion said while smirking.
She decided it was for the best not to get involved in a battle of wits with Tyrion, not on something as trivial as this and so instead she spoke on something she'd meant to speak more on for some time.
"I am sorry you know, for King's Landing, for leaving you to face it all alone."
"It could not be helped, Sansa," Tyrion said.
"Aye, I know, but I wished you to know that I did mean those words."
"I know."
There was something in how he replied that bothered her and she wished to find out what that was, but the loud screams that then rang out stopped any further thought.
"By the gods," Tyrion said, rising to his feet and she swore that he moved far from her when he did so, almost as if he was seeking a place or person to hide behind.
He had good reason to. They all did. Moving towards them was what could only be described as those who were long dead. Sansa to her horror found that when she looked more closely at them that some of them seemed to be bearing Stark sigils and the truth of what Rickon had first said about the crypts was now made clear. The dead had risen and now moved their way and Sansa offered a prayer to the Old Gods that the other truth that Rickon had spoken would soon be proved.
"Hold! Hold! WE ARE SAFE HERE!" she shouted loudly and firmly, even though part of her didn't believe that was so "OUR KING WOULD NOT HAVE PLACED US IN DANGER! HOLD AND DO NOT GIVE INTO FEAR!" her words were loud and carried over the din of the dead that moved their way. They echoed around the cabin and though they'd stopped the panic, they'd not removed the fear. That came next.
Sansa, Sandor, Edmure, and their armed men all moved to form a line and she held the Catspaw in one hand and Dragonglass dagger in the other. The dead moved towards them and then they seemed to stop, more than simply stopping, they seemed as if they'd hit a wall that was not there. She looked to Sandor who wore a half-smirk and then down the line as more and more dead things, more and more Wights, moved only to find they could not pass.
"SEE! OUR KING PROTECTS US!" Sansa shouted and then with a nod to Sandor, she struck out with her knife and a Wight that was no more than a foot away from her fell to the ground, dead now for true.
With that, down the line, they began to strike out, and soon enough there were no dead things left standing. Sansa had taken down as many as the Hound had and he chuckled as he moved away from her. She turned to follow and then stood still in shock when she saw the woman standing there. It had been moons, years since she'd last seen her. So long that Sansa couldn't truly remember when it was, though it was certainly long before she had left Winterfell that fateful day. At times she'd been frightened by her, thought her to feel unnatural somehow, and yet now she was comforted in seeing her there.
"Nan," she said happily as she moved toward her.
"Aye, 'tis me child. Though child you are no more." Nan said, and Sansa found she wished to and so she did embrace the woman and once she did, she was a girl being told stories while abed once more.
"I.." she said as she sobbed somewhat.
"Are finally the wolf you were born to be," Nan said and few words that she'd heard in her life made her feel as proud as those ones now did.
Yohn Royce.
They had assigned him and his men to protect the South Gate. The most experienced riders of the Riverlands had then asked to be under his command, in case the cavalry would be useful to make a breakthrough according to Sarella Martell. The other part, which was to be supervised by Edmure Tully, would protect the surroundings of the crypts of Winterfell on the orders of the King of the North.
They were commanded by children. They who had known war more than once were commanded by children who'd known none. Sarella Martell might have been legitimized by the Targaryens, but she was still a bastard who had spent her time deceiving the Maesters. True, she had forged a link of copper, tin, and iron, but she was an inexperienced scholar compared to him. He who had fought two Rebellions and more battles than he could count on one hand.
He was not, however, in a position to go against her orders. She was supported by Rickon Stark and Yohn could not afford to antagonize them at this difficult time. Still, he resolved to show them as soon as the time was right that he could help them achieve a crushing victory.
So he went to Lord Edmure, determined to ask his help in reasoning with Rickon.
"I'm sorry, Ser, but I will not go against my nephew's orders," the cowardly man replied, his gaze shifting. "I will not betray my family."
"I'm not asking you to betray them, but to help them." Yohn countered. "They are young and inexperienced, unlike you and me. You know better than anyone that a siege is not necessarily the best solution."
He knew he was hitting a sore point. The siege of Riverrun was something the men from the Riverlands still talked about. Some of them faulted their Liege Lord for the way he betrayed his uncle, others were more understanding regarding Edmure's family situation, as he had no way to know if the Lannisters wouldn't hurt his wife and son. Yohn didn't know what he would have done if faced with the same choice, but he knew Edmure was still haunted by his uncle's death.
"Riverrun would still be in my uncle's hands if I hadn't intervened," the Lord of Riverrun retorted, to his surprise. "The Lannisters took advantage of my weakness to break the siege because despite their numbers they couldn't take our keep. The dead far outnumber the Lannisters and you heard what my nephew said, if we go out, we all die."
"Do you really believe what he said?"
"You really want to go against Bran's predictions? I will not hold you back, but I will not support you in this folly."
Yohn should have expected this refusal, but he hoped that Lord Paramount of the Trident would be more willing to listen. He was pleased, however, to see that the Knights of the Vale were willing to follow his instructions. They would follow the directives of the King in the North and the Princess of Dorne by fortifying the walls of the South Gate while preparing for a charge to meet the enemy at the first opportunity.
The temperature was dropping as time went on and snow was piling up outside the castle and in the courtyard. His men spent more time making sure the horses didn't freeze to death and clearing away the accumulating snow than they did training. The ice forced them to be careful with everything, including their food supplies, which were further rationed by the upcoming battle. The lack of light frustrated him too. He and his men resolved to take their turns in getting their rest, not knowing when was time to sleep nor when the enemy would strike.
He was tired and famished and his mood wasn't the brightest. Which he knew wasn't the best combination to face his foes.
Yohn watched as the boy king was busy running around. Rickon Stark helped out the foot soldiers with the other young Lords of the North as if they were squires and not ruling them, and he scoffed at this. He well understood the importance of fighting alongside his bannermen and of protecting them to the best of his ability. Yet the Knights of the Vale were trained to shield their companions while riding on the offensive and here they needed a leader. They needed someone who pushed their forces forward with their strength, as they had enough men to help around doing chores.
Finally, after days of waiting, the first of the dead army was spotted near the Wolfswood. He shivered as he saw through the Myrish Eye their line spreading to almost no end. Rickon Stark had been right, they were seriously outnumbered, and Yohn feared for them should they let this force surround them.
"We have to force them to focus their attack on one gate and only one, else we will be overwhelmed." he insisted at their last council.
"Even with trenches, it will be impossible to do so." Sarella Martell retorted. "We can focus our defense on slowing them down at the south gate, and kill as many as we can with our archers and scorpions. But our reserves of Dragonglass are limited and the dead need to be close to us for us to use fire in this weather."
"The weather is controlled by the Night King." Ser Davos added. "His Grace King Baelon and Tormund Giantsbane spoke much of what happened at Hardhome and it was as true there as it is here"
"Keep the torches lit at all cost." King Rickon ordered. "Those who can't use a bow are in charge of the fires Lord Royce, you and your men will ride to light up the barriers further from the keep."
"Me, Your Grace?" Yohn gasped, taken aback.
"The Knights of the Vale are the fastest riders we have and we need it to be done quickly. Do not dally, my Lord. Ride to the barriers and come back as quickly as you can."
"It will be done, Your Grace," Yohn responded quickly. He didn't think King Rickon would let him out of the keep that easily given their previous arguments and he thanked the Seven for the opportunity this now gave him.
He could feel the cold seeping under his bronze armor as saddled his horse. The Northern furs kept him warm but they also hindered his movements. Yet despite it all, he donned them and ordered his men to do the same.
"Are you sure about this, my Lord?" one of his bannermen asked him, looking uncomfortable as he mounted up behind him, a lit torch in his hand to enact their plan.
"Yes. This is the moment we show them the true might of the Knights of the Vale." Yohn said with determination while watching the South Gate open.
"What in the Seven Hells are you doing, you fool?" He heard someone say and didn't care to answer as they were already in motion.
"CLOSE THE GATE! CALL THE KING!"
Their attempt to stop them would be in vain, Yohn knew for certain. They rode through the gate as one, together with the Riverlords who had agreed to follow his lead. A thousand and a half, along with two thousand men from the Vale. Ignoring the yelling and the insults thrown at them, they rode forward with a renewed purpose. They would use their forces to lure the dead to where they wanted and show those who doubted them how true warfare was fought.
"ONWARD! FOR THE VALE! FOR WESTEROS!" he shouted loudly, and then he rode hard for glory and renown.
Lyanna Mormont.
"How many Valemen do they need to light a wooden barrier?" Ned Umber asked, frowning, as he and the rest of the Northern Lords who had stayed at Winterfell, now looked on from the wall that they were assigned to defend.
"I don't think they should need that many men," Lyanna answered, also perplexed by the number of mounted men.
"So why…"
"They wouldn't dare, would they?" she asked angrily.
"The Knights of the Vale, who ordered them to ride? The Riverlords, where is Lord Edmure? " Sarella Martell yelled, running to the courtyard before turning towards her.
"Do not let them leave! CLOSE THE GATE! CALL THE KING!" Ned panicked, realizing that things were not going according to what Rickon had planned.
What was he thinking, giving Royce the lead? she thought, sighing loudly as she watched the flames from the lit torches move away from the keep and toward the enemy.
"I hope for his sake that they will stop at the barrier." Alys Karstark sighed in turn.
"They will not."
"That was not what was agreed upon!" Tallia Forrester exclaimed in shock.
"The Southerners think us stupid. The Old Gods will prove which of us truly are so," she stated, though she took no satisfaction in doing so.
"Not on my watch, they won't!" Lyanna jumped as Rickon's angry voice rang out next to her.
Ghost was there by his side, the white wolf snarling silently while Rickon's intense glare was fixed on the torches that were now even further away. A screech from over her head made her look to the sky where she could only see the silhouette of a bird flying to where the Valemen were riding. She looked on with worry as Rickon's eyes glazed over, knowing what it meant. It was clear that he was warging and so she moved closer to him to support his body should he falter.
" There will be times I will need you to watch over me when my mind will be on the other side of the battlefield." he'd said to her just after he had sent part of Nymeria's pack off.
" You're planning on warging during battle?" she frowned.
" I should be fine, I've gotten better at it, much better."
" Was that why you were always with Lord Reed? To train on your warging?"
" And more… I'll tell you about it when I have the time. Will you at least watch over me if I need to warg? I trust no one but you to do so."
" I… Aye, Your Grace, I will," she grumbled, not wanting him to see how flattered she had been by his words.
She cleared her mind of her thoughts and looked was now torn between looking at Rickon and the Knights of the Vale.
"What are these fools doing?" he spoke, which troubled Lyanna, as she'd never seen him anything but in a semi-conscious state when he was borrowing the body of an animal. "Oh… No, no, no. Bloody idiots!"
"What's happening, Your grace?" Ned asked.
"They're planning to strike them and then lure them to a place of their choice."
"What can we do?"
"Alys, Ned, gather the archers, Larence, prepare the fires. Talia, you're in charge of the ironwood tips. Lyanna, you're staying with me."
"What will you do, Rickon?"
"I'll try to bring back as many horses as I can. Watch my back."
She flanked his right side as Ghost did the same with his left and then she watched as he concentrated on the field in front of them. Soon his eyes lost their focus and she hoped he would succeed before it was too late.
They were still advancing and Rickon's fists were clenched in concentration before he let out a loud curse. Looking to the field she watched in astonishment as one by one the flames of the torches were extinguished.
"Get back, dammit! Get back and find a way to make them light these fucking fires before, ARGH!" Rickon moaned, looking like he was in immense pain.
"Rickon! Come back!" Lyanna said, using all her control to seem harsh whilst her heart skipped in panic as she held onto him with all her might. "What happened?"
"They're dead. Most of the men, their horses… I could only get a few to get back." Rickon said dejectedly.
"You're bleeding;" she pointed out, once again worried for her friend. "You need to rest."
"There's no time to get rest, Lyanna." he countered, wiping his bloody nose and looking devastated by what he had just witnessed. "I can still feel their pain, their fear, and the cold… If Royce isn't dead out there, I swear I will fucking gut him!"
Lyanna winced at her friend's outburst. She knew he didn't like to be disobeyed when he was in the right of things, especially since it had now cost the lives of so many of what he considered his people.
Thousands of what had been their allies mere moments ago were now enemies and had been added to the Night King's forces.
Thankfully, some of those who managed to get back into the keep had the foresight to light the barriers as they should have done in the first place. After Rickon had torn them a new one for blindly risking their lives, he turned toward the gathered crowd.
"If you want a chance to survive, then you have to think for yourself. Here, you are not some Lord's bannerman, not just some foot soldier from whatever region of the Seven Kingdoms you proudly belong to. You are a living being, not fodder to the Night King Army. You are important just as the ones around you are too. Look to your left, and to your right. The person you see is who you have to protect as you would yourself. For they may lose their life if you behave recklessly, and you might then pay dearly for your negligence when they will rise again to add you to the Night King's side. No more bold plans. No more excursions outside. Think of your lives and the lives of those next to you first and foremost. Save yourselves and save them and fight to the best of your ability. Do so and we may all see the Dawn."
Rickon's words shocked a lot of people, mostly the Lords of the South, but not Lyanna. She remembered the day he had spoken to her, as well as the Lords, Ladies, and heirs of the North.
" I know you all remember my brother's words. We are the future of our Houses and this was the reason they left us behind so that we could be the last resort to protect our people. Unfortunately, his plans for us backfired and so here we are. We're now at the first front that we all wished to be. I know you're all scared. I am too."
" Is it supposed to make us feel better, Your Grace? Because it doesn't!" Lyanna had said, rolling her eyes.
" Sorry about that. I just… Wanted to thank you all for not running away from your duties. I know more than anyone what you are all capable of, and I will be so very proud to fight by those I consider my pack's side."
" Your pack, your Grace?" Tallia Forrester repeated, seemingly shocked.
" Are, you are not only my bannermen, but you are also my friends who stood firmly by my side. You believed in me when others did not and prayed for me when I was lost. It will be my greatest honor to protect you not as a king, but as a friend, a member of our pack."
Lyanna had felt moved by those words. She knew they were all close, the hardships they all lived through between the Red Wedding and the Retaking of Winterfell had somewhat strengthened their bonds with each other, though Rickon had always tried to distance himself from them. Not in an arrogant way, as she had realized very early when he first had his meltdowns in front of her, but to preserve himself from trusting anybody. He let her in first, then the others, and while it hurt a little that she wasn't the only one to have the special privilege of being his confident anymore, she was glad he considered them all as people he cared about.
The Dead were now passing over the barrier, using the cold bodies of their peers to extinguish the fires. She felt a shiver in her spine when she recognized some of the faces she had seen earlier in the keep were now moving mindlessly toward them.
The fools… the damnable fools.
They quickly took their positions, Rickon stood in the middle of the parapet with a bow in his hand, a king ready to fight with the thousands of archers that were present with him at that moment.
"Are you sure it is a good idea?" she tried to ask nonchalantly while internally worried for his safety.
"Why not? I'm not as good as you with a bow, but -"
"Come on, you suck with a bow, Your Grace." Ned Umber chuckled.
"Look who's talking!" Rickon retorted, vexed. "You suck at everything."
"Stop bickering, you two!" Alys Karstark intervened. "You both suck at archery, but we need all the help we can, so…"
"Try to aim forward and at a dead body." Lyanna ended the sentence, sticking her tongue out at a now nervous Rickon.
"Where would I aim if not forward, stupid?" he retorted before his demeanor changed and his Kingly voice now replaced his japing one. "Ready yourselves! They are within our reach. For Winterfell, Nock!"
Lyanna nocked the arrow that Tallia had prepared for her. Its iron arrowhead was made so that a piece of flaming ironwood stood at its center. They were not sure it would be effective but the blue flame looked like it would not stop burning and Lyanna sent a prayer to the Old Gods before letting loose her arrow.
'You brought Rickon Stark back from the dead to lead us through this. May my hand never tremble, may my resolve never falter, and may each of my shots hit true. For the North, for the living, and may your trust in him not be in vain.' the words were spoken silently in her head.
Blue flame exploded as her arrow hit its target, igniting it and the dead bodies around it. The cheers behind her rose as hope started surging in her heart.
"Not bad, Lady Mormont. Not bad at all."
"You missed yours, Your Grace." she pointed out, searching for her next target and smirking as she heard Rickon grumble.
"They burned still, didn't they?"
"Thanks to The ironwood, aye, they did."
"Nock… Draw…"
Rickon paced each arrow-flying session, without flinching once, and despite the fatigue, the cold, and the muscles in her fingers tingling with effort, Lyanna let herself be led by the sound of his voice. The dead were still advancing, walking about the fallen corpses without a care, but she was confident they would succeed if they stayed as united as they were. She had placed her faith in her king, in Rickon Stark and her faith was unyielding.
Sarella Martell.
It had been days since any of them had truly slept, even longer than that since it had been in a bed. Tyene and Bronn had worn themselves out with their coupling that last night, something that Sarella couldn't begrudge them now. Even if it had annoyed her then. The noise that had come from their room had been so loud that she had needed to find elsewhere to sleep and yet were anyone to ask her now, then she'd more than welcome a night filled with such noises. It'd be far better than the noises that had resounded around Winterfell over these last few nights.
She and Ser Daemon patrolled not just the parapets but the courtyards and buildings where their reserves were held. Both of them doing their best to keep the spirits up of the men and women who fought in what felt like a never-ending battle. When it wasn't their forces that she looked to, it was their stocks and supplies. Her world was one of never-ending lists and very little actual fighting. Oh, she carried her Dragonglass spear and daggers with her everywhere she went, though she'd not truly wielded them as of yet. Something that could not be said of Tyene and Bronn.
" You need to lead us as a commander may, sister, not to inspire us with your battle prowess," Tyene said.
" That I'll leave to you, sister," she replied.
It had been a hard thing to accept and yet she knew she and they were best served with her doing as she was now doing. Obara and Nym would have laughed at the idea of her fighting a battle as they both would have done, and where once it would have annoyed her, now she'd welcome their mockery most gratefully. As she would her mother's comforting words when Sarella felt herself without the strength of will to do as she must.
Out there somewhere, Ned Dayne led the vast majority of the Dornish forces and she knew not whether he or they lived. King Rickon had said that they'd been victorious in their own battle and now raced their way, yet other than knowing that King Baelon and Queen Daenerys along with their dragons were unharmed, he knew little else. So just as it was each time a man from Dorne fell here, Sarella found herself mourning those who were not, just in case they too had already paid the costliest price of all.
The dead attacked relentlessly. They never truly wavered or regrouped and while thus far they'd held them at bay, it had not come without losses. None so pointless or idiotic as the Knights of the Vale and the Riverland's cavalry and Sarella still shuddered when she remembered the sight of the torches being extinguished one by one. Few had made it back to the gates and now each time she closed her eyes, it brought her back to her crying out in vain for them to hold back and not do what it seemed they were about to.
" They cannot be," she shouted out.
" Princess?" Daemon asked worriedly.
" The Knights of the Vale, who ordered them to ride? The Riverlords, where is Lord Edmure?" she said as she raced up the steps with Daemon running behind her.
She reached the top to find Tyene and Bronn along with all those who could see the cavalry as they rode out through the gates.
" STOP YOU FOOLS!" she shouted loudly "STOP!"
" You didn't order this?" Tyene asked and Sarella glared at her sister.
" I fucking told you she wouldn't and nor would King Wolf either. This is that fucking prideful cunt, Royce." Bronn said.
" They can't intend to…" Daemon said but by then it was clear enough what they intended.
She, Bronn, Tyene, and Daemon were soon joined by others who were just as shocked and annoyed as they were. King Rickon Stark, Lady Lyanna Mormont, Lord Howland Reed, and more standing there shaking their heads, though King Rickon it seemed did something else too. Something she and the others were unclear on for a few moments until they heard his loud sigh.
" I can't, I tried." the young king said, his defeated voice and posture not one she'd seen much of since she had arrived at Winterfell.
" Tried?" Tyene asked.
" To warg the horses. It was too late. They were already getting butchered." Rickon said much to their surprise, though he had become ever more powerful as a warg under Lord Reed's tutelage.
Sarella opened her eyes, the images still there. A charge that had been pointless. The torches that some of the riders carried were all going out one by one. Over three thousand men had ridden out, less than a thousand had returned and the looks those men wore as they staggered back through the gates had been those of broken men. Lord Yohn Royce was not among those who made it back to Winterfell, his fate unknown to them, though it was one they could well imagine. In truth, it was a far better fate than he'd have received had he returned. Especially given how Rickon Stark's expression would darken should any dare name the man in his presence.
That had been the true start of the battle for Winterfell. A signal for the dead to attack for true and though people complimented her on the defenses she'd seen erected, it was little comfort after seeing thousands of men die in the blink of an eye. Yet still, her defenses held and so she thanked the gods for small mercies. Their walls had yet to be breached thanks to the Dragonglass spikes she'd seen placed on top of them. Wights who'd tried to climb over them had found themselves impaled and even a cut on their hands had been enough to end them.
Winterfell's own design helped her too. Its walls were high and sheer and it had a moat that was easy to fill with wooden spikes and broken shards of Dragonglass. Around the Walls, they'd built a trench and filled it with oil and hay that they'd set alight and wished they'd not. The sight of just how large an army they faced was one that none of them would ever forget. She had three large Dragonglass scythes built and had dropped them from the walls just as the Night's Watch had done at the Wall according to King Baelon. Their effect was devastating and though they'd lost one to broken ropes, the other two still worked.
Fire and Dragonglass were their greatest weapons and so she'd used both as much as she could. Fireballs were sent over the walls by the trebuchets and piles of broken Dragonglass fragments were sent over using the catapults and to great effect, yet the dead just kept coming. A day, two, three, or was it four? She found she'd lost count and no matter how many they stopped, the Night King's army seemed as large as it had ever been. So she was not alone in looking to the sky, or in praying for the dragons to arrive and for a king and queen to come and save the day. Yet today was not to be the day her prayers were to be answered either it seemed.
As she finished her rounds, after she'd eaten her meal and spoken to her men, Sarella lay down to get what little rest she could. She'd spoken briefly to King Rickon, and to some of the other commanders and found that fatigue and morale were becoming as true an enemy to them as the army they faced. King Baelon was coming, Queen Daenerys was coming, that was what King Rickon would tell them all. That the army and the dragons would not leave them to face this alone and that aid was on its way. Closing her eyes, she prayed for that aid once more.
She awoke to find that it was no longer a commander that she was to be. The time had come for each and every single one of them to stand and fight and not even the reserves would get to rest. Sarella listened as the horns rang out, once, twice, and then thrice. Those who defended Winterfell had taken much inspiration from the Night's Watch, for they were now the shields that guarded the realms of men after all. With her spear in hand, she looked at Ser Daemon and nodded. Then they both went and took their places atop the walls.
They were in the third line, and Sarella felt the cold that proved the horns true, it was not just Wights that came at them now, but their masters came too. The Others, the Cold Gods, the White Walkers were here and this fight would see them lose far more than before. Sarella looked down the line, her eyes seeking and finding those of her sister and she offered Tyene the best smile that she could bring to her face. A smile she hoped wouldn't be the last one shared between them. She heard voices ring out around the quiet that had suddenly fallen and knew then what it was she needed to do. Taking a step back, she sought her father's passion and her mother's empathy and began to speak.
"Good men and women of Westeros, be you from Dorne, the North, the Riverlands, Reach, West, or Vale. Wherever it is that you named your home matters not. Whoever it is that you named your kin matters not, for the man and woman who stands beside you is your brother and sister in the blood that we all may very well shed. We stand here as free men and women, as true sons or daughters of the mothers and fathers who we named as our parents. And while we may be afraid, we will not be cowed.
We will not give in to our fears.
We will not let the shaking of our hands stop us from wielding our weapons as truly as we have ever done.
We will not go quietly into the everlasting darkness.
Together we will fight for those we love, for those we stand side by side with, and for our friends and our families. Together we fight for the living!
For Winterfell and the Dawn!" her voice carried, the strength and resolve she sought had come to her by the end and as she heard the words ring out from those she stood with, she was ready now to fight or die.
The Gift 304 AC.
(From When Benjen arrived)
Baelon.
He'd been played and had become Jaime Lannister to his brother Robb. Never had it occurred to him that the Night King could or would employ any sort of tactical plan and he felt a fool now that he'd not considered it. Had Benjen not arrived when he did then Baelon would have celebrated, he'd have allowed his men to celebrate the victory they'd won here today. To mourn those who'd fallen and yet to take comfort in knowing that it had been fewer than it could have been.
What a fool he'd been.
What a complete and utter fool.
To think this had been it.
That this was all the Night King had gathered to face them.
Had he learned nothing from Hardhome?
Had he forgotten what had happened there?
Or was it that their other victories had come so easy that he'd begun to believe he was infallible?
"MOUNT UP! WE RIDE FOR WINTERFELL!" he shouted loudly.
"Baelon?" Dany asked, looking at him concernedly.
"We've been played, Dany. This is not the true fight, the final battle has not yet taken place and we must ride and ride hard, lest those we care about will not see many more days to come," he said and he was relieved when she nodded rather than asked more questions.
He turned around and looked at those nearest him. Some had moved at his words, more seemed to be confused by them. Knowing what he had to do, he readied to tell them what it was they would soon be facing.
"This was but a diversion." he said loudly as around him people stopped moving to their horses, and an air of eerie quiet took over "The Night King has passed us by, he crossed the Wall elsewhere and did so with the vast majority of his army. They march for Winterfell and without us to aid them, then not even the keep's walls will be enough to stop it from falling. Every horse we can find, we double up on men and carry only what we need to get us to the fight itself. It will not be a comfortable ride and even going as fast as we can, we may still be too late. I'll not lie, it's a slim hope we have that we'll make it to find any left alive."
How he didn't gulp himself when he said the words, he knew not. The thoughts of who was in Winterfell still and who had not marched further south were enough to almost make him falter. Were it not that he needed to keep his composure lest others lose theirs, then he wouldn't have been able to speak without giving his true fears away. Yet they needed him to remain calm, even if he felt it not. He could see it in their eyes as they looked at him, in Dany's eyes most of all, and if he couldn't be strong for her then he was already lost.
"So we ride and we ride as hard as we are able. We rest up only when we must and we suffer the cold nights and lack of true rest because there are those who are counting on us to ride to their aid. To those who cannot ride and who must march, I say do so as quickly as you can for I believe we'll need your aid too. To everyone who will ride with us, I say only this. We have faced the dead and beaten them, and while there will be more of them, we all know what we must do. We ride now to wrath or ruin, we ride to Bring the Dawn!"
Around him, there were no cheers, no loud proclamations that they'd kill the Night King, defeat his army, and save those they cared about. The time for such was not today. Instead, it was the determination he saw, men speaking to other men, women moving to find a horse or to find a rider to share one with. The Unsullied would need to come and he saw Grey Worm speak to Qhono, as the Dothraki would be best able to see them situated. He looked to Melisandre and with a nod of his head, he watched her move to the fires and seek answers to questions that he'd not yet asked.
"Baelon," Dany said from beside him and he turned to look at her worried face, the soft kiss he gave her was more for him than her, though she seemed to welcome it too.
"Missandei and Davos will have left by now, they'll be further south and so should the worst…"
"No, speak not of such things. We'll arrive in time and we'll see our family safe." Dany said determinedly and he smiled at her, glad that she now saw them as such, as it had been what he wished for as much as anything that he had ever done so.
"I… the dragons… a part of me wishes to just mount Rhaegal and to fly to Winterfell." he said and he saw the small nod of her head "But we can't, the reasons for not using them as we marched here are still as true now. Together, Dany, together it must be, you, me, the dragons, and our army. For if it's not, then we are already lost…"
"Then together it shall be," Dany said and this time it was her who kissed him.
There was so much he wished to say and do. He wanted to spend time with his uncle and properly introduce his wife to him. To tell him how happy he was and to speak to him about his mother. Yet there was no time for such things and thankfully Benjen seemed to understand that. His uncle had found his own mount and though Baelon wished him far from the battle, there were no words that he could speak to make it so.
When Melisandre walked to join them, he could see the worry in her eyes, and her words only shared the extent of that worries. Though she did give him some hope too.
"The Night King is some days ahead of us, my prince. I can see not whether we can arrive before he does, however, Winterfell will not fall so easily and so we may have R'hllor's favor."
"I need you to ride with us, my lady. Though I wish it were not to be," he said and she smiled at him as she shook her head.
"My place is by your side, my prince, you'd not deny me that would you?"
"Would that I could, but no, I'd not."
"I wish to ride too, your grace." he heard a voice call out and he looked to see Gendry move his way looking as worried as he ever saw him.
"Aye, I'd imagine you do," he said looking at Qhono who nodded and then took Gendry to seek a horse to ride upon.
Others he had no need to ask, Tormund and Brienne, Ned Dayne, and even Daven Lannister were all already mounted and resolved to do what must be done. How long it took for everyone to be ready to ride, he couldn't tell, though he'd wager it was far sooner than any other group of men could make it so. Dany rode with him, the two of them on her silver, and his arms were wrapped around her as she held onto the reins. He'd sought and found Ghost and through him, he'd told his brother that they were coming and begged him to hold on. Now as the dragons took to the sky, he raised his hand and brought it down, and then it was as if the Storm God had been summoned, for the sound of thousands of horses as they raced off was the sound of thunder.
"I'm coming little brother, this time I'll not be too late," he said softly as Dany and her silver led their army to Winterfell and to a destiny that he knew not.