Alys
Winter snows were falling around Winterfell. Pure white snow, snow that Alys hadn't seen since she had been but a wee babe at her mother's breast. The snow made it hard for any of the rebuilding to be done, and so Winterfell stood a shell of its former glory, basked in snow, the ruins from Greyjoy and Bolton Occupation evident amongst its cracked and crumbling walls. It was something that often made Alys weep and curse the gods in turn. Sometimes she would be standing in her and Jon's chambers and remember warm summer nights curled up in bed with Robb, would remember laughing with Jon at some lame jape Theon had made, would remember holding Rickon's hand as he walked and babbled about all that he had learnt. The memories were painful.
Atleast Shiera and Rickard were well, and safe behind whatever had been rebuilt. Since the battle for Winterfell, all those lords who had bent the knee to Roose Bolton had bent their knee again and sworn undying loyalty to Jon and to House Stark, with Bolton dead and Stannis present, they had had no choice but to bend the knee. Though she suspected that Houses Cerwyn, Tallhart, Hornwood and Manderly had all done so willingly, had been more than happy to, perhaps she thought, it was the threat of Bolton and his bastard that had kept them hidden. Dustin and Ryswell had long borne the Starks ire since Lady Barbery had wed Lord Willam some seventeen years ago and the horse not the man had come back from the south with Lord Eddard. Her husband would need to keep an eye on those two houses.
As if her thoughts had summoned him, Jon walked into their chambers with a heavy sigh, his brows furrowed. "My Lord." She said in greeting. They were growing fond of one another, she and Jon, though it was hard for it sometimes felt like she was betraying Robb, and of course there was the ghost of some woman that Jon had not yet seen fit to tell her about, hanging between them as well.
Jon looked at her then, his grey eyes seemingly looking straight into her very soul. "We've had reports of skirmishes in Winter Town. More flayed men; it seems that the Bastard of Bolton refuses to die."
"But surely this must be a copy cat Jon, how could it be the bastard himself? The man was killed fleeing Winterfell." Alys replied, trying to keep the fear out of her voice.
Jon sighed once more. "I know not Alys, truly I do not. The man was seriously wounded whilst we fought, I made sure of that. And yet he escaped me, he threw snow in my face like a craven and left me there to die. I did not kill him, but it is likely there is someone who is still loyal to the brute."
"Who would remain loyal to him though Jon? The man was a cruel and sadistic man by all accounts. Just ask Jeyne!" She said, almost immediately regretting her words when she saw Jon wince. Her husband still had not gotten over the fact that it had been Jeyne Poole at Winterfell, not his little cousin Arya, no one knew where or what had become of little Arya Stark, Alys prayed that wherever she was, that she was well and healthy.
"I do not know Alys. If I did, do you think I would be standing here? Do you think I would not be out there looking for the bastards who are terrorising my people?!" Jon snapped at her.
The surprise must have shown on her face for Jon immediately became somber and apologetic. "I am sorry Alys that was not good of me, it is not your fault. It's just so frustrating." Jon said.
Alys felt sorry on her husband's behalf and said. "Sit down Jon, please sit down. It's my duty as your wife to listen to your problems and give you counsel please." Jon sat down, wincing as he did so, the pain from his wounds still so fresh even though a moon had passed since the battle for Winterfell. Alys got up off her chair and kneeled beside her husband, stroking his curls in a manner she had learnt soothed him. "What is so frustrating Jon? Is it Stannis? Is it his men? Is it my father? Is it the situation up north?"
She heard Jon sigh, and saw him close his eyes when he spoke. "All of it Alys, all of it. Stannis, the bastard of Bolton, his men, the Wall. All of it is so damn frustrating."
"Talk to me Jon, tell me why. So I can understand." She said in response.
Jon kept his eyes closed as he spoke. "With the news that Storm's End has fallen to this pretender calling himself Aegon Targaryen, Stannis wants to march south immediately. The man does not seem to recognise the fact that he himself came very close to dying during the battle for Winterfell, and has not fully recovered yet. He does not seem to realise that the storms and snow will not abate, that by the time we mount some sort of assault for the south, the Targaryen pretender will most likely be sat in King's Landing. He does not realise that the men are tired and weary of war."
"So what will you do Jon?" Alys asked, feeling a sense of fear creeping up on her, it was selfish she knew, but if Jon and his men did not march south they could stay here in Winterfell, where they would be safe.
Jon opened his eyes then and his eyes looked so full of pain, Alys wished she could kiss the pain all away. "I will do what I must. Stannis is the rightful king; he is the one who knows of the threats beyond the wall. This Targaryen boy does not, will not aid the Night's Watch or the north, Stannis will. He must sit the throne he will not accept less than that. And for that to happen we must march south. We must march to the Twins."
Alys saw her husband's eyes harden then, in a way they had not done since he had executed Theon Greyjoy for all of the north to see and she felt herself shiver. Jon went on. "I must march for the Twins, Robb and Aunt Catelyn must be avenged. The Freys must pay for their treachery, for their deceit, for their oath breaking."
Alys felt tears well up in her eyes as she remembered that god's awful night, the sound of Shiera crying into her chest as she asked where her father was, and why he wasn't coming with them. She couldn't lose Jon as well, she would not allow it. "Must you march south Jon? Why not send someone else in your place, like my father?" she asked hating how much it sounded like she was begging him, she was in truth she supposed.
Jon's eyes hardened at her words. "I will not sit here behind the ruined walls of Winterfell like some whipped cur, whilst your father leads my northmen south to deal out revenge for my family. No, I shall lead the north and I shall be the one to remove Walder Frey's big fat ugly head from his body. Riverrun must be freed as well."
"But Jon," she began.
"But nothing Alys, I will hear no more on this. I will march south with my men and Stannis." Jon said, in a tone that brooked no argument.
"Very well then," Alys said in a formal voice, hating how she had to do this, but knowing it was necessary. "What else is it that troubles you?"
Jon seemed to regret how he had spoke, but as was so often the case he did not seem to know how to phrase his words, for he stumbled over them. "Alys, I.... I did not mean to.... sound so..... it's just that.... Robb was like my brother.... I wasn't there when he needed me.... I was at the blasted wall...."
Jon had begun to break with each word he spoke, and Alys felt her formality begin to break away with that, she moved closer to Jon, so close that she was nearly straddling his lap. She put her fingers into his hair and began to scratch it in a reassuring way. "Oh my Jon," she whispered. "It's not your fault at all, if King Robert had not been such a coward, but then you may have died at that awful wedding as well, and the lord alone knows what would have happened. No there's no point in looking backwards Jon, please Jon come back to me, Shiera and Rickard need you, I need you."
That seemed to pull Jon from whatever dark place he had been in before and he simply looked at her then. After a long moment he said. "Word from across the narrow sea, Daenaerys Targaryen has taken Volantis. She is setting sail for Westeros now according to Stannis's pirate Salladhor Saan."
Alys felt herself shiver in Jon's arms then, another Targaryen coming to Westeros, and this one with dragons. Jon went on. "I don't know if I can keep doing this Alys, I really don't."
Alys looked at her husband then and said fiercely. "Of course you can Jon, I know you can. I believe in you, Robb believed in you. We all believe in you, of course you can do this Jon." She kissed him on the lips then to show him she truly meant it.
When they broke off, Jon spoke in a much more quiet tone. "There was a letter from Dorne, it must have gotten lost in the storms. It was written by my mother, she says that Sansa and Jeyne are well, and that Uncle Oberyn came back with the Mountain's head and an eye patch. She did not write of the Targaryen pretender so it is likely an old letter, but she writes that Sansa and one Willas Tyrell met and are getting along like a house on fire. She seems to suspect I may have to arrange a marriage soon."
Alys nodded; there was something Jon wasn't telling her. Sure enough he said it after a moment's silence. "Mother told me that she thinks Jeyne might be dying. Apparently she was struck ill after they came back to Starfall from Sunspear. Grievously ill."
Alys was about to say something in response to that when they both heard Rickard begin to cry, his shrill screams piercing through the silence.
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Four days later the snow had abated enough for Jon to declare it save enough to ride, and so Alys and her children came to the courtyard along with some of the remaining household staff to see Jon, Ghost, Stannis and their army off to the south. Alys tried to keep the feeling that the last time a northern army had ridden south she had ridden with it and had been with Robb.
Her father embraced her firmly when he came to say goodbye whispering in her ear. "We'll get revenge for the Young Wolf sweetling. Jon'll come back to you never worry. And we'll get Harrion back as well." He had kissed her cheek and then mounted his horse.
When it had come time for Jon to say goodbye her husband had merely looked at her for the longest moment before formally saying. "My Lady."
"My Lord" she had said in reply.
Jon had then kissed her cheek and before going had said three words that had sent her head spiralling. "I love you." He had said, and she had remained silent as a doorstop unsure of what to say or how to respond. Jon had not said anything nor had he looked disappointed, he had merely mounted his horse raised his hand in farewell and then ridden out of the gates to wage war on the south.
After Jon and the men had departed Alys had busied herself with overseeing the rebuilding f Winterfell. She and Jon had talked long and hard about this at Castle Black and then at Last Hearth, they had decided not change anything about the actual castle, it was to be rebuilt looking exactly how it had looked before, the only change being that the Broken Tower, the tower Bran had fallen from was to be rebuilt. Alys had spoken with Lord Manderly, the man who had orchestrated Jon's successful campaign to retake Winterfell, and had managed to procure from him the relevant materials with which to rebuild Winterfell, with the promise that when Winterfell was ready to repay they could, though Alys feared that would be in a long, long time.
As she watched Winterfell be restored to something akin to its former glory, she did feel something of an ache for old times, when life was so much simpler. It seemed that the rebuilding process only seemed to increase the number of ghosts that already plagued her. When the glass gardens were completed, she could not stop thinking about the first time she and Robb had kissed, during one of the summer snows, and after perhaps one too many cups of summer wine.
When the library was restored she has memories of sneaking kisses with Robb in the little hidiholes he had shown her, places where every Stark in existence had kissed a girl or a boy. She vaguely wondered if her solemn husband Jon had done something like that, and thought that he must have done, he was a handsome enough lad, even more so when he smiled.
The Great Keep and Great Hall were next to be rebuilt, bringing with them both happy and sad memories, happy of the time when her marriage to Robb had occurred and the wedding feast, sad because when the king had come to Winterfell he had torn the Starks apart, and then things had never truly been the same afterwards. Once the great hall is completed, Alys holds a feast to celebrate, it is mainly woman and children and a few green boys and old men who attend the feast, though Lord Wyman does, coming from White Harbour to help.
When it all gets too much, Alys retreats to the godswood to pray. She had never truly been religious as a child growing up, had never really had to be. But then Robb had been religious fervent in his devotion, as was Jon, and so she finds some form of comfort from going to godswood. It seems sometimes as if the trees can hear her words and her prayers, as if the whistling of the trees in the wind is them speaking back to her, answering her prayers. Once or twice she could have sworn she heard her name being called out.
Shiera and Rickard grow very quickly in the months that Jon is away. Shiera turns two and begins speaking, in gibberish first and then proper tongue, so that by the time the snow seems to stop for a wee bit, she can hold a decent conversation for a two year old. She has already become the darling of the household staff, those that were alive when Robb and Jon were babes say how much she echoes them, some even say she seems so similar to Sansa and to Jeyne. Rickard hurries to catch up with his sister; he turns one in the moons that Jon is gone. He walks first and then speaks his first word his "North" followed by "Mama." Alys swells with pride when she sees her two babes toddling around a rebuilt Winterfell, praying and hoping that they never know suffering.
News comes to the north very, very slowly at first. Jon's letters are always very brief and too the point. They detail the bitter cold, the heavy snows and the storms, and the barren lands south of the neck. When news reaches them of the Twins, writ in Jon's hand it is two moons old, the raven delayed by storms. Jon and their men had led the assault on the Twins under the cover of darkness, led in by Howland Reed and his cranongmen who had found a secret way in. A butchery Jon writes, that's what he sees it as, not as justice, but a plain and simple butchery. Half of House Frey put to the sword for the crime of being the house that orchestrated the Red Wedding. Stannis was severely injured during the fighting Jon writes, they would have had to have delayed their march on Riverrun for the time being to allow Stannis to rest. Olyvar Frey is named Lord of the Crossing Jon writes, it is apparently thanks to him that Howland Reed and the cranongmen found a secret way in.
The next letter she receives from Jon details Stannis's injuries being much more fatal than first thought. The man, Jon writes could not lead the charge on Riverrun, had given the task to Jon, and so her husband had led 20,000 pissed of northmen on whatever host held Riverrun, and had put the entire host to the sword, had put its Lord to the sword, and the lords heirs. Jon writes of the nightmares he's suffering, of the feeling that he's losing his humanity. That he misses her and the children, that he loves her. Alys writes back to that letter, not knowing whether or not he'll get it but needing to put the words to paper, she writes she misses him to, that she loves him, that she wants him back home.
She is about to open another letter that has come from Jon when Maester Theo, the second maester at Karhold who had come with her uncle Arnolf, knocked on her door. "My lady," Theo begins. "Sorry to disturb you but there is someone here to see you. He says its most urgent."
Alys puts the letter down intrigued. "Where is he waiting did you say Maester Theo?" She asks.
"The guards would not let him into the great keep but he waits outside for you my lady." Maester Theo says.
Alys nods and gets up and follows the man out of her room, down the stairs. When she gets closer to the entrance to great keep and see blood spatter on the floors and walls she becomes fearful. When she sees the hulking hooded man standing in the doorway, she feels something in her give way, she's seen that build somewhere before.
"Ah my lady," she hears the hooded man rasp. "So nice of you to come and join us."
She goes to turn and ask Maester Theo what this man is doing here in her home, but she sees Maester Theo has a sword through his chest. She turns and looks at the hooded man who merely shrugs and says. "The man had played his role. Now come here."
Alys tries to run and scream, truly she does, but the hooded man is strong, so very strong, and soon she feels something sharp knock her on the back of the head, and then the world turns black.
Benjen
Winter is coming; those were the words of the house he had forsaken all those years ago when he had taken the black. Those were the words though, that had kept him going, during those long months in the lands beyond the wall, with food scarce and human contact even scarcer. Those words seemed to have become even more of a reality now as he stood atop the wall, and watched the snow and ice land on the ground. Winter had truly come to Westeros, and had brought with it all kinds of fiercesome things, the like of which had not been seen in Westeros for many, many thousands of years.
The White Walkers and their thralls the wights were marching in ever increasing numbers on the Wall. That had been the reason for Mance Rayder and wildlings fleeing south, the ever encroaching presence of death and its minions. As of yet, there had been no sightings of the White Walkers anywhere near Castle Black, Eastwatch or even the Shadow Tower, though it was quite clear that they were close by for there had been sightings of an increasing number of wights close to the wall. During the night, Benjen had ordered that there be more men on the walls with fire arrows ready, they had been caught out once already, a wholesale slaughter of men stationed at Westwatch, it would not happen again Benjen would make sure of that.
He had had Maester Aemon and Clydas perusing through the various books and tomes that occupied the library at Castle Black, to see if they could find anything, any scrap of information that could prove invaluable to helping them defeat the White Walkers. So far the only thing that they had been able to find was that the White Walkers could be slain by dragon steel, what that was Benjen knew not. Nor did it seem Maester Aemon, they were both confused as to whether the tome refereed to dragon glass, weapons which they had found in some supply hidden deep underneath the vaults of Castle Black, or if it meant Valyrian steel, the making of such weapons had been lost during the doom. Benjen had written to the Tarly boy, the one Jon had sent south to the Citadel, to see if he had been able to find anything that could perchance be of use to them. The Tarly boy had not found anything that they had not with regards to the White Walkers, though he did write in his letter, the discovery of some sort of prophecy, which could perhaps why the White Walkers had become active again after so long. What this prophecy was, Tarly had not mentioned, but Benjen had become curious, though with all he had to do, there was not much more thought he could give to some prophecy and so he pushed it to the back of his mind.
Before Benjen could sink any further into his depressing thoughts, he heard someone say "My Lord." Turning round to see who it was who had spoken, Benjen found himself face to face with Bowen Marsh, the first steward of the Night's Watch. Marsh had been on the Wall for a long time, he had already been around for some ten or so years when Benjen had taken the black, what he had done to take the black Benjen knew not, but after his years in the Watch he knew it could not be for honour, Benjen had his own reasons for joining the Watch and therefore had never pried to closely when speaking with Marsh, he did not need old hurts brought up. Not now especially, Marsh was a capable if a somewhat feeblish steward who knew how to fight, and how to keep the men stocked and supplied. Benjen looked at the man and could see the tiredness on his face that was surely reflected on his own, this job was taking its toll on all of them, and yet they would bear its burden with not complaint they had to, it was their duty. "The last of the dragon glass from the vaults beneath the castle have been mined and brought up to stay where you asked."
Benjen nodded that was good, the more dragonglass they had the better prepared they would be for whatever it was that the White Walkers were waiting for. "That is good Bowen," Benjen said. "What reports from across the wall?"
Benjen heard the first steward swallow loudly, and felt nerves begin to boil inside of him surely nothing bad could have happened? Bowen spoke, but his voice shook as it did. "A rider came from Eastwatch just now bearing bad tidings. Of what he would not say, but he specifically asked to speak with you my lord."
Benjen felt the tension inside of him worsen at the man's words, trying to school his face into a blank mask he said. "Very well Bowen, lead on." And so the two of them descended down the winch cage and walked to where the man was waiting near the foot of the King's Tower. One look at the man, was enough to near enough confirm Benjen's fears, the man was covered in dirt and blood, whether it was his own or that of another's Benjen could not tell, and he doubted whether or not the man could. "You wished to speak with me?"
The Black brother looked around quickly, his eyes darting from side to side before he spoke. "Yes my lord commander. I bring grave tidings from Greenguard."
Benjen's eyes narrowed. "Greenguard? I was led to believe that you were from Eastwatch."
The man took a deep breath before speaking. "Well I am from Eastwatch my lord, but I was sent with a band of twenty men to scout out along the Greenguard area, we found bodies my lord, hundreds upon hundreds of bodies. Wildlings, black brothers, even some of those men that didn't ride south with King Stannis my lord. And when darkness fell as we were burning some of the bodies, those that weren't burnt, rose up and fought us, it was a massacre my lord." The man had a faraway look in his eyes by the time he had finished speaking.
Benjen felt his gut begin to twist at the man's words. "How did you escape then?"
The man looked up and said. "I don't know my lord, it was as if the wights did not see me there. It was if, they would simply walk past me. I didn't question it my lord, I simply got on my horse and rode as fast as I could for here."
Benjen nodded at the man, then turning round to speak with Bowen Marsh said. "Bowen see to it that this man is given a room for the night and is fed and kept warm."
Once he heard Marsh agree to do as asked, Benjen walked past the man to his room, in the Lance Tower, as he closed the door and sat down in a chair by the fire, he sighed deeply and let his thoughts run wild. Hundreds of dead people, near Greenguard, that was not good, it was likely that the wights would be advancing either east or west, if they moved south Benjen dreaded what would happen. Jon would have taken the whole strength of the north with him when he marched south with Stannis, leaving no one behind to defend the north from the perils beyond the wall. Benjen would have to lead the men on a patrol to both sides of the wall to try and make sure that nothing got out, otherwise....
His thoughts were disrupted by a knock on the door, calling for whomever it was to come in, Benjen found himself looking at Stannis's red woman, the Lady Melisandre. The red woman, Benjen knew his men called her, the red witch the free folk called her. Whatever she was, she seemed to have driven up some kind of devotion from that mad bat that Stannis had for a wife, and had somehow managed to convince Stannis that he was some hero of legend, how she had done it Benjen had no idea, but he knew one thing for sure he did not like her, nor did he trust her.
"My lady, what may I do for you?" Benjen asked, trying to keep the tiredness out of his voice.
The ruby she wore at her throat pulsed as she moved into his room. "I have heard about the wights sighted at Greenguard my lord."
Benjen had to keep the sarcasm from his tone when he replied. "Did you not see it in your fires then?"
Melisandre smiled at him then and said enigmatically. "The fires do not reveal all to me, but what happened at Greenguard was common sense. They are getting closer my lord, and it is time that they learnt that we have fire in our midst as well."
Benjen felt his face screw up in annoyance, not this again, why did she always have to bring this up? "I am sorry my lady but I cannot do that. You are to remain in your quarters as much for your safety as for that of the men."
"And what good would that do us, when the White Walkers come south, as they must?" she asked in that infuriating tone of hers.
Benjen had to bite back a sharp retort, and instead merely said. "My answer remains the same my lady."
She smiled sadly at him then and said. "Then you will come to rue your decision my lord, for there will come a time when his grace will fight a pretender, the dark one whose name should be mentioned and you will find yourself caught. Between the hammer and the anvil." With those words she swooped from his room, leaving him feeling haunted, how had she known about that saying? The saying that had been in his family for as long as Benjen could remember? How, she could not know what it truly meant could she? Who was this Melisandre and what did she truly want?
Five days later as Benjen was walking toward the wall, he heard the sound of horns being blown, once, twice, thrice. And he felt a fear stir in his gut, a primal fear. Running to get his sword and some fire arrows, Benjen saw his men do the same, and soon they were all gathered round the winch cage waiting for their turn to go up, with the sound of the horns echoing in their heads and the sound of arrows being fired. When Benjen got to the top of the wall, he saw the land beneath him crawling with wights and giants and spiders, and what looked disturbingly like a wolf-man half breed, a giant one at that. All coming towards the wall. Destruction was heading toward them and quickly.