Version 2.0
"So, the Red King has finally decided to bless us with his presence," Harmond said.
"Looks like it. Maybe we can get some answers out of him," Brandon replied.
The Red King entered the village with an air of regality, as his large force of men, clad in armour, marched in disorganized unison behind him. Each soldier bore obsidian weapons, glinting ominously in the torchlight and moonlight for the long night had long since moved past them heading further south.
"Come on, let's see what he has to say for himself," Harmond said.
"Wait, not in front of all the soldiers," Brnadon said putting an arm before Harmond. "We can't affect the men before battle. This is too important. Let me handle it."
As they got closer to the Red King, it became clear that he was quite enjoying the attention he and his men were getting. With a sickly smile and curious eyes, he sat atop his recently bought horse before looking down on all those around him.
"Royce, glad to see that you have come," Brandon greeted.
"Ah, Brandon, of course, I would come to help. The leader of our alliance called."
"You have missed some information while you were traveling here. Come, I will catch you up on it."
"It would be my pleasure," he said, a slight smirk crossing his lips.
Brandon led him, along with Harmond, to the village chief's house, which had become the central meeting point of the alliance. The second the door closed, Harmond jumped at the chance to question the Red King.
"Tell me, Royce. Where are the obsidian weapons that you promised? Where was your help when we asked for aid fighting the Others?"
"So sorry, my friend. You see, bandits have been plaguing my lands, constantly harassing and attacking. I had to take care of them, taking my focus away from helping you," he said with a smile across his face, "I keep my word, as I have bought all the spare obsidian weapons I have, to give to everyone. Besides, if Brandon, the leader of our alliance, could not help you, what could I do?"
Harmond ground his teeth as he bore witness to the sniveling smile of the Red King. "How convenient that you only give us the spares of what you have."
"Oh, but I am just looking after myself; I am no different than you. I am just looking out for my people and myself. We are not so different; it is just that my choice goes against yours. I don't see why you get so annoyed by this."
"You—" Harmond started to say before he was cut off by Brandon.
"We understand that you are looking out for yourself, but can't you see that by not helping us, you are also harming yourself? What if we failed? You would have been alone."
"If you had failed with the help of every king in the north, then I had no chance. So why not look out for myself and my men and let you deal with the problem? You are the man for the job. Now, if there is nothing to discuss, I have my men to get back to," he said, leaving the house.
"That coward," Harmond said.
"But he has a point," Brandon acknowledged.
"I know; that's what pisses me off. Looking out for yourself and his people is good and all, but he stepped over the rest to get it. Fucking prick."
"Let's forget it; we have more pressing matters at hand. We can deal with him later."
/
After having enough of annoying people Brandon headed for home with soothing family and fire. Stepping into home he heard the booming voice of Hother bringing a smile to his face.
"I even called it a piss stick. Haha." He bellowed before seeing the door open. "Brandon come we were just talking of our battles," Hother said springing up from his seat and dragging Brandon to the table.
"*cough* Oh Brandon, you didn't fill us in on so many juicy details." Alarra smiled weakly as her pale skin stretched to accompany it be she coughed again.
"I thought they weren't important." Brandon smiled weakly before his mother gave him a look.
"Well, they are, so spill." She said whilst Torrhen sat forward in his chair as well.
/
As the days passed, the air grew colder and the darkness of the long night seemingly intensified. News arrived daily, each report saying the same as the Others' relentless advance, creeping closer and closer to Winterhaven.
Hawthorn and Elder Oak toiled tirelessly on the ritual; having moved a heart tree and weirwood trees to a grove in the village. Resources were plentiful, and the ritual had begun, but the complex process required time for the binding to take effect. A week was the estimated duration before the ritual could accomplish its purpose.
The village rallied with Brandon and the kings. Defence preparations were underway, with every able-bodied person contributing, including the giants. Trenches were dug, palisades constructed, or makeshift barricades set up.
Every day everyone worked tirelessly, well except some certain kings, throwing power in every swing of the axe for trees or strength in placement of a defensive structure. The sounds of construction blended with the harsh winds that carried the sounds of blacksmiths and carpenters.
It was with only three days remaining until the completion of the ritual, the inevitable march of the Others finally came into view. As the Others' massive horde drew near, the village looked like a fortress encircled by a sea of bodies. The cold wind carried chittering wights, scraping ice spiders, and the creaking and scratching of White Walkers and Others.
The approaching threat spread like wildfire, and the villagers, warriors, and kings alike donned their armour. The village echoed with the sounds of clanging swords, creaking shields, and arrows fluffed. Time seemed to compress as the Others bore down on the fortress, and the defenders knew they had but an hour before the clash would begin.
As Brandon readied himself for the looming battle, his sister Alys approached, her face etched with sorrow.
Alys spoke hesitantly, "Brandon, I... I'm so sorry to bring such sad news at this crucial moment. But Mom and Dad, they... they passed away in their sleep."
A silence enveloped Brandon as his fist shook before he moved forward and hugged Alys close to him.
Alys, tears glistening in her eyes, mumbled into his chest as she wrapped herself to him, "I thought you should know before the battle. They went peacefully together, I'm sorry."
A single tear falls down his face. "You don't need to apologise, Alys, thank you. We knew that this would happen eventually." He is silent for a moment. "I must go, Alys, please stay safe, when we win this war, we need to catch up, I want to meet your man," Brandon says smiling at his sister.
"I would like that," Alys says still crying into his shoulder.