Version 2.0
In the heart of the open tent, a gathering of the petty kings of the North began. The cloth-covered tents billowed gently in the frigid breeze, as the morning fire crackled and wafted light smoke through the tent.
Seated around a round table recently carved from the more resilient wood of the northern forests, the kings sat before grumbling between each other often looking at each other in distrust. The previous square table, destroyed after a heated argument, lay burning in the tent to warm everyone up from a particularly cold morning.
Brandon just shook his head as he looked around at the gathering, selling first on Ned, The Greenwood King, maintaining a stoic look, his gaze steady as he observed the interactions around him. To his left, The Ryder King, animatedly gestured while engaged in what appeared to be a spirited discussion with The Barrow King, Malcolm who sat across the table, a hint of amusement in his eyes.
The Warg King, Bran, with his faithful brown bear companion at his side, exchanged heated glances with The Fisher King, who returned it equally. The Glover King, seated in silence just watched the entire gathering not saying or doing anything.
Brandon continued to look around the gathering watching other kings in their groups chatting or arguing with one another, more arguing than not with the only people having a more civilised conversation were the Umbar and the Frost King.
Finally, he settled on Royce, The Red King, not far away from a crooked-nosed second in command who he was talking to in a hushed voice before a shudder ran up Brandon's back before disappearing.
Brandon sighed again but before he could try to steer everyone to a single conversation Harmond quickly tuned to another conversation that was not happening far from him.
"You coward," Harmond boomed. "Getting others to sort out your problems. The Others are coming; I've seen them with my own eyes. I see you, Tower Kings, are snivelling wretches."
"No need to be so aggressive, Harmond," Frost calmly interjects. "We understand that some of you are just stating curiosity or such. But the threat of The Others is real; even now, they release some of their minions. The White Walkers, I believe they are called now; I have even slain one myself."
"Sure, you have, pal," Cedric states, his eyes peering down along the length of his nose. "Because I am just going to believe whatever you say, how preposterous."
"Please, Cedric, listen to them," Edwyn, the Slate King, says. "Why would they sprout lies? They gain nothing for it. The least we can do is listen to them."
"Listen to them. I think not. They talk about The Others coming, and yet I don't see them. Do you see them?" he says, looking around the tent. "Must have missed them."
"Oh, you're a pompous cunt," Harmond says, his arms starting to flex and strain, holding himself back from strangling Cedric.
"Who cares what they say," Gareth, the Locke King, says. "They say The Others are a threat, but they are not here. What are they fiddling with their cocks up north? They don't seem like such a threat if they are afraid to come down here."
"Kings!" Brandon shouts over the noise. "I know what he says does not make sense, and I also agree that we don't know why they have not come down here. But three of us are saying we have seen and fought with them. That holds truth, does it not? And just in case you do not believe me, my friend, Hother, is coming here, who is actively fighting and gathering people to fight The Others."
"He is already fighting them?" Ned asks, the Greenwood King.
"And yet he is not here, how convenient," Alden says as a look of contempt passes over him.
"Well, let us wait and see if he can shed light on this situation," Ned says.
"How interesting," Royce quietly muttered.
"I don't care what he says. I won't fight with the likes of this bastard," Cormac shouts, pointing towards Bran, the Warg King. "He's more likely to stab you in the back than he is to help you."
"Now you listen here you little shit stain. I ain't no bastard. And if anyone is going to fuck someone up the backside, it'll be ye."
"I'll show you," Cormac says, marching towards Bran. Luckily, before he can get far, he is stopped by Ned.
"Do not start another fight. We are here to fight the Others not each other, can't you put aside your grievances and just listen."
"I refuse to fight alongside…" Cormac starts again but it starts to drift off into the background for Brandon as he shakes his head.
"How the hell am I going to get all of these guys to work together?" he says to himself. Luckily, out of the corner of his eye, he sees a massive figure approaching the tent.
"Hother," Brandon exclaims in relief. Moving towards him, he is quick to bring him into a hug, getting a strong crush in return.
"Good to see you too, Brandon," he says, looking over Brandon and seeing the kings arguing. "So, you have managed to bring all the kings together," he says before looking disappointed at the kings.
"Bring together, yes. Unite them, Gods no," Brandon says. "Some want to fight each other more than The Others. Some are more open to the idea, and some are already onboard, but getting them all to agree feels like it is impossible."
"Well, to that idea, I bring both good news and bad news. Now watch this," he says, marching off towards the tent.
He bullies his way into the tent before addressing the kings.
"Alright, Kings! The names Hother fought for two decades of war and battle and have personally fought and killed more White Walkers than most of you little bitches had seen. Seeing how you don't believe that that Others are real then just look outside that way," he shouts, blotting out all conversation around the table. Before he points towards the far to the north, where it looks like a dark cloud is sweeping forward.
"That just looks like a storm, you bumbling buffoon," Alden says.
"Why don't you shut your mouth and look closer, you dumb cunt," Hother says, as he stared down at Alden who is quick to look away.
The kings exit the tent and gaze far into the north. What first looks like a dark sky from a storm starts to loom odder the longer that they look at it. It is as if all light just stops, like an invisible wall preventing it from going any further. The horizon, once painted with the hues of the evening, now shows an abyss of impenetrable darkness. For the first time in days a stillness settles over the gathering, a peaceful silence.
"Well, I'll be damned," Gareth says, as the other kings glace at each other.
"Yes, you bloody will," Hother says. "I had the unfortunate encounter with Aleo when he released one of his new monsters. He was 'kind' enough to tell me of a ritual he helped create with the Others. It has no name in our tongue, but he told me what it does. It stops all light reaching us. The Others are here to kill everything, and so they blocked out the light to never allow us to see again."
"Is it spreading?" Ned asks, looking closer to the darkness.
"It sure is. And it's fast too. It won't take long for it to reach us and the cold to come with it," Hother says.
A silence sweeps over the kings, permeating them like a snap freeze seeping into them.
"So about working together," Edwyn, the Slate King, asks sheepishly.