Chapter Text
Chapter 46 Baptism in Fire
Robb Stark
Even the horses are shivering, Robb thought woefully.
The chill seeped into his bones like nothing he'd felt before. He was a Stark, from the line of the Kings of Winter, cold was something that bothered other people- not him.
Robb shivered, the cold continuing to seep into his bones, like a knife into the guts. The lands beyond the Wall looked like the rest of the North, but the cold was something else. Two days of traveling, and the cold only grew worse. Even father and the Greatjon were feeling the effects...but maddeningly enough, Jon was not.
Jon seemed at ease in the worsening cold. He seemed unfazed and at ease. He had never looked less of a Targaryen than he did now. His Stark blood shone now, the coldness of the King's of Winter.
Robb shivered again.
Grey Wind and Ghost; whenever they appeared, were even more at home in the bleak landscape of the Lands of Always Winter. This was their home, more than Winterfell or the rest of the North would ever be.
Even after a couple of days, the chill was getting worse and worse. Robb had suggested to Jon that maybe the Others were making the weather worse, in response Jon had tried to hide a smile as he told him that it was rather warm for this time of year.
Robb had felt rather stupid after Jon's admission. He kept silent about the cold for the most part after that.
In any case, there were nearing the Free Folk camp, that Bran was leading them to. Leading them all to.
In the aftermath of Jon's rousing speech, they'd left Castle Black, led by Uncle Benjen and a contingent of Black Brothers, Jon at the forefront of their group. Father, Lord Reed, the Greatjon and Lady Mormont came with them, leading the Northmen that were with them. It was not a giant group just enough to help the Free Folk move quicker to the Wall. The sheer number of volunteers after the meeting had been too many to bring along and remain mobile enough to move quickly.
According to Bran, the Free Folk were mostly either, the old and infirm, or too young to fight. Mance and Tormund had a small group of warriors and spearwives helping move the people along while also guarding them.
They'd chosen the northernmost Lords to join them, they were more used to the biting cold of the lands beyond the Wall and had on occasion crossed the Wall for one reason or another. For the most part, they were doing better with the cold than Robb.
He laid his hand on the hilt of Dark Sister, the blade at his belt, reassuring himself that it was still there, reminding himself of the trust Jon was putting in him, by giving him the legendary blade.
If they were to encounter any wights of White Walkers now, he was one of the few people that had a proper weapon against them.
Soon enough, they reached the outskirts of the Wildling camp.
Robb felt his breath hitch in response as he saw actual giants patrolling the outskirts of the camp. The giants were walking around the camp, and as they approached, one the giants stamped forward blocking their way.
Robb heard the startled voices of their men, even as he stopped his own horse. The vast majority of the men had never seen a giant before and he could practically feel their trepidation as they came face to face with a story made flesh.
Jon kept moving forward, fearless and heedless of the giant. Ser Barristan trailed behind him looking deeply concerned, his hand dropping down to his sword.
Jon finally halted his horse and looked up at the giant, no fear in his eyes, even as Ser Barristan tried to move his horse between the giant and Jon.
The giant looked down at Jon, and they looked eyes for a moment before the giant nodded grimly, "Snow," he growled, his voice was deep pitched and for Robb, it was more than slightly terrifying. Old Nan's scary tales coming back to haunt him now.
In response, Jon suddenly smiled ruefully and nodded back, "Thank you."
The giant stepped aside and Jon continued on, unworried about the giant at his back. Jon looked back at their host of men, gestured them forward. The rest of the Northerners followed him, casting worried stares at the giant as they passed.
As Robb passed, he looked up at the giant and gulped as he realised just how massive the giant truly was.
The giant cocked his head and looked at him, before growling something at Robb in a huff.
Robb didn't know what the giant had said but he spurred his horse on quicker, not wanting to tempt fate with the giant. Leaving the giant behind, he followed in Jon's path as he entered the camp, seeming to know where he was going. The Wildlings in the camp started gathering around them as the moved deeper and deeper into the camp.
Jon seemed to know where he was going. He dismounted in front of the largest collection of Wildlings that Robb had ever seen before. A older man stepped out from among the Wildlings to meet Jon. The gruff older man stood at the forefront of the group. His eyes were unreadable as he looked at Jon. Ser Barristan was quick as he followed Jon's lead, the old knight was looking about him, trying to look everywhere at once as Jon walked to meet the Wildling leader with no regard to his own safety.
Or the fact that he was a King now.
And a king needed proper protection.
And a proper retinue.
Albeit having Barristan the Bold following in his wake made up for the sparsity of Jon's current retinue. The newly knighted man, Ser Grenn was standing with them now, though he still looked unimpressive to Robb's eyes. Especially next to Ser Barristan.
Robb grimaced, remembering his own retinue, and how many of them died in the end, at the end of Jaime Lannister's sword and at the Red Wedding.
The less said about the Smalljon- the better, some betrayals were worse than others. And far to raw to dwell upon now.
Robb focused back on Jon, a stand off between him and the old man was happening now, even as Ser Barristan continued looking about in concern.
It lasted only for a moment more, before the old man's face cracked into a wide smile. He laughed heartily once before reaching out a hand to Jon.
Robb saw his brother return the smile, and then reach out and shake the man's hand enthusiastically. Robb was still too far away to properly hear what was said.
Jon turned and gestured them forward and Robb hurried to join Jon, wondering how this meeting was going to go. These days almost nothing went as he expected.
Jon Targaryen
His sense of relief was powerful, just seeing Mance, hale, whole and not on fire, relieved him. This time, they could do things right with Mance. And the rest of the Free Folk.
In their first life, there had been a look of relief in Mance's eyes when Jon had put an arrow in his chest, but still Jon had been unsure of how welcoming Mance would truly be, even with the threat of the Others hanging over them.
"It truly is good to see you again Jon," Mance stated with a sigh.
Jon nodded in agreement, "Aye," he cast a look around, "I'm glad to see you alive and so many others as well."
Mance nodded, his eyes casting around at he watching men and woman, "Aye. It's mad as well. Absolutely fucking mad. Most of all, it's a fucking mad thing to have to thank a man for killing you," Mance said in dismayed disbelief as he stared at Jon.
Jon shrugged, "You're welcome," he turned around and found Robb and father standing several steps away looking between them, shock and disbelief written on their faces. Ser Barristan had an unreadable expression on face for a moment before turning back to scanning the crowd for threats. Grenn cast one look at Jon, then Mance before shrugging nonchalantly.
"You killed him?" Robb questioned in disbelief.
Jon winced and shrugged, "Yes."
"That iron faced bastard and his red witch were burning me alive. Jon did me a damn good service killing me," Mance said, waving away their disquiet.
"Oh..." Robb started lamely.
Father's face remained impassive.
Moving on, Mace Rayder nodded in greeting, "Lord Stark, I've heard a lot about you," he reached out a hand to father.
Father blinked once and then stepped forward and took Mance's hand. They shook once and then Mance turned to Robb, giving him a glance before gesturing them towards a tent, "Come, I have bread and salt for you all."
Jon nodded and made to follow behind Mance.
He heard a high cry suddenly come behind him and then the sound of a sword being unsheathed. He twisted around in alarm, just in time to see Ser Barristan pointing his sword towards a Tormund that was skidding to a halt with a comical look of confusion on his face.
"Keep your distance! Stay back!" Ser Barristan threatened Tormund.
Jon stepped in before anything could happen, "Hold!"
"Your Grace?" Ser Barristan asked, his sword wavering in air, even as his eyes remained focused on Tormund.
"Put down your blade, Ser Barristan. Tormund here doesn't mean me or any of us any harm," Jon reassured the old knight.
Ser Barristan cast one concerned look at Jon before looking back at Tormund, slowly he resheathing his blade, reluctantly obeying, "As you say, your Grace," his voice was filled with doubt.
Jon nodded, "I have nothing to fear from Tormund," he stated assuredly, before stepping past Ser Barristan. "Tormund," he stated gravely, giving Tormund a stern look.
"Boy." Tormund growled back at him gruffly, causing Barristan to bristle at the impropriety of the name.
They stared at each other for a moment before Tormund grinned widely, he laughed and then stretched out his arms wide. He stepped forward and engulfed Jon in a gigantic hug, picking Jon up and shaking Jon as he crowed loudly into Jon's ear, "We fucking did it!"
Jon grinned and laughed in response to Tormund's exuberance. After a moment longer Tormund released him.
"Who's the old man? He's fast- but still old, he your new nursemaid, or something?" Tormund asked, giving Ser Barristan a thoughtful look.
Grenn snickered as Ser Barristan bristled even more at the offhand insult even as Jon fought to keep a smile off his face, he shook his head, "No, no, this is Ser Barristan Selmy, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard."
Tormund and Barristan eyed each other warily before Tormund snorted, "Heh, alright, he any good with a sword?"
Barristan's death glare spoke volumes.
"He's the best swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms," Jon quickly stated before Tormund could insult the legendary knight any further.
Tormund frowned in confusion and scratched at his beard, "I thought that the King Killer was supposed to be the best?"
Barristan's death glare was joined with a raised eyebrow at the altered name of the Kingslayer.
"That's a question most of the Kingdoms have pondered for a very long time," Jon admitted lamely.
Tormund cast a scrutinizing look at Ser Barristan and looked like he wanted to say more, but Mance cleared his throat, interrupting them, he spoke testily, "If you're done distracting us, we have more important matters to discus."
Tormund looked around, sizing up father and Robb.
"Father, Robb, this is Tormund Giantsbane, a good friend of mine," Jon introduced him.
Father was as stoic as ever despite Tormund's antics, while Robb looked very leery of him, in spite of how Jon had talked to him about Tormund.
Tormund nodded once at Father and then looked at Robb. Suddenly, he grinned toothily, it looked more menacing than anything else, "You never said your brother was touched by fire," he stated as he stepped up to Robb, towering over him, his eyes focused on Robb's auburn hair, "It's a glorious thing to be touched by fire," he said to a very wary Robb.
Robb looked back at him with a dubious expression on his face, unsure of how to react to Tormund's sudden change in demeanor.
"For fuck's sake! Shut the fuck up!" Mance commanded in gruff annoyance, "As I was saying, We got more important things to talk about!" He was exasperated by Tormund manner.
Tormund huffed at Mance, even as Robb and father were still unsure of how to react to Tormund.
"Fine, let's talk," Tormund glared angrily at Mance, but stayed quiet this time.
"Come on," Mance gestured them forward, towards his tent.
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Inside the tent, it was cramped. Not like the old tent that Jon remembered. This tent was rushed in it's set up, a temporary dwelling for the King Beyond the Wall.
Father and Robb came in after him, Bran appearing behind them and finally Ser Barristan and Tormund. There wasn't any room for Grenn so Jon told him to guard the entrance from outside.
Mance cast a suspicious eye towards Bran before rooting around in the tent for a moment and turning around to face them. He held out bread and salt for them. Jon took some and passed the rest on to father and Robb, who took it, then passed the rest to Barristan and Bran.
"Have a seat, if you can find somewhere to sit," Mance stated relatively welcoming.
There were a couple of logs and things that could pass as chairs, strewn around the cramped tent. Mance sat down on a log and Tormund joined him, Jon sat opposite him with father by his side. Robb and sat on a chair while Ser Barristan chose to remain standing at the door of the tent.
They sat and eyed each other for a moment before Mance snorted in disbelief, "So the Lord of Winterfell comes to the King Beyond the Wall to help him save his people," he began with wry smile.
Father sat up straighter giving Mance a long judging look. His face was blank for a moment before nodding and acknowledging the truth and weirdness of their predicament.
"Don't forget the Targaryen King's aid as well," Jon added in an amused tone. Clearly Mance was still unbelieving of all the changes, despite the evidence of his own eyes.
Mance shrugged nonchalantly, "Sure, why not? It's all mad isn't it?" he finished with an amused, relived laugh.
This time, father and Robb joined him when he laughed. The absurdity of it all resonating with all in the tent and overcoming their initial unease.
Jon was happy for the moment of levity but duty called, "What's been happening?" he asked, casting aside Mance's levity and getting to the heart of the manner.
Mance's face darkened, and he shared a troubled look with Tormund before speaking, "It ain't good news. We may have saved as many as we can- but they're hunting those of us left now," he stated darkly, "This isn't like before. They're picking off larger and larger groups, it's why we're been forced to bunch up so much, they're not attacking any group this big- at least not yet."
"They're hunting us like dogs," Tormund growled angrily.
Jon frowned, "This isn't good." He turned to Bran, "Anything?"
"My vision is still clouded," Bran replied unhelpfully.
"What about the other Three Eyed Raven?" Jon questioned, wanting to know the answer to that question. According to Bran, Bloodraven had been silent since the first night of their return.
Bran cocked his head to the side as if thinking deeply, "Nothing."
Jon grimaced, he quickly outlined to Mance the numbers they had brought with them in the hopes that they could help them move faster to the Wall.
"Aye, that'll help and more," Mance nodded, seeming to sag a little in relief, "We're mainly the old and very young with us. It's been slow, and every night we lose more and more people."
Jon nodded, "So we can move faster now then."
"Aye," Mance nodded, "Maybe cut our travel time down by half with all your help," He turned uncertain eyes towards father, "As long as others don't make problems." The others he meant were not the White Walkers. The long history of antagonism between the Free Folk and the North was very much at the forefront of Jon and Mance's minds.
"Jon vouches and trusts you, that is good enough for me," father stated evenly, "My men will not cause problems for yours, we have enough to deal with as it is."
"Hmm, well Lord Stark, it seems Jon's opinion of you is justified, it's not any man that can let go of grudges as old as ours," Mance admitted with a respectful tone.
Father nodded once before grimacing, "Unfortunately, I cannot speak for the Umbers or the Mormonts, but it has been impressed on them that we are no longer enemies. We have brought them with us to help build, a least some measure of trust between us all."
Mance nodded, "Aye, I'm willing to try. All my people are willing to work with Northerners, we all know who the real enemy is," he finished gravely.
They all nodded soberly at that, the true enemy was revealed and coming to kill them all, they didn't need to go looking for more.
"Any Northerner that causes problems, I will deal with them myself, on that you have my word," Father swore severely to Mance.
"The word of the Stark of Winterfell has great weight, even among the Free Folk," Mance accepted the oath with a grim smile, he seemed even more relieved than he had been before.
They started speaking about spreading the Northerners around the camp. Jon, father and Robb would be spread across the camp to deal with any issues that would arise, and because each of them had valyrian steel swords. Lord Reed and Uncle Benjen would be with Father, Lord Umber with Robb and Lady Mormont with Jon himself. They wouldn't be able to move today, but come first light they would be ready to march.
More specifics were mentioned and preparations for a possible; if not probable night time attack. No one believed that they were anything but under siege now. The night would be dangerous. The Others and the Wights would be on the move. Yet another reason why Jon, Robb and Father would be spread across the camp. Valyrian steel was in short supply, as was dragonglass.
If there was a fight, it would be a hard fought one to put down Wights, never mind White Walkers...but there was nothing else they could really do about that now.
Robb had remained silent throughout the meeting, simply watching and learning how father dealt with Mance. He was much more attentive these days when father was acting as the Lord of Winterfell.
There was much to think of, and a number of potential problems, but what dominated Jon's thoughts was the Night King. The actions of the enemy had changed, and more and more as time went by, the odds that the Night King remembered went up.
It was possible the Night King was just reacting to how fast the free Folk were escaping from the Lands of Forever Winter, but Jon didn't want to lie to himself. There were already enough things he'd lied to himself about...
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They finished speaking and as they existed the tent to implement their plans, he found someone waiting for him.
She stood there arms crossed with a cross look on her face. Red hair waving in the wind and an annoyed look on her face. Thankfully, she didn't appear to have her bow on her now.
He froze, he knew that they'd come face to face again at some time, he only wished that they'd met at the Wall. Somewhere safer. Somewhere where he could have taken the time to properly prepare himself for this reunion.
He was jarred out of his surprise by Tormund hitting him on the shoulder roughly, "Don't do anything stupid boy...more stupid than usual at least."
Jon barely acknowledged him before moving forward towards Ygritte.
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Ygritte
She didn't know what she'd expected.
Jon was standing before her now. But he didn't look like her Jon. His back was straight, and he stood unwavering in front of her. There was a look of supreme confidence in his eyes now. He still wore black, but there was a red three headed dragon stitched across his chest. There was another southerner standing at his back, an old man in heavy armour giving her a suspicious look.
She ignored him.
She focused on Jon. It was her Jon, but it wasn't as well.
Fucking insane. It was all so fucking insane.
Her lips were dry and she didn't know what to say. She had died in his arms with an arrow sticking out of her chest. And now here they were. Alive again.
He was walking calmly towards her, his eyes unreadable. He came to a stop in front of her, the tension palpable in the air between them. Where did they stand now? She remembered their words to each other and their promises...and then everything else that had gone wrong after that.
Yet another tomorrow that was no longer a tomorrow. Or a yesterday. Or a today.
She grit her teeth and glared at him, "King of all the fucking Kneelers, huh?" Ygritte asked of Jon, in a cold tone, betraying none of the emotional turmoil she was feeling, only putting forth her contempt. A false front that was far, far away from her true feeling.
Jon smiled ruefully, "Apparently...," he shrugged, "I didn't know before," he extruded smugness. Something that was out of character for the Jon Snow she'd known.
That smug bastard! She raised her hand and pointed at him, "I still ain't fucking kneeling," she retorted quickly with a scowl.
The old man at Jon's back narrowed his eyes at her and frowned.
Jon shrugged as he took a step closer to her, "I can do the kneeling," he teased cheekily.
Her cheeks were burning red now, they probably matched her hair now, "You still know nothing, Jon Snow!"
"It's Jon Targaryen now," He stepped forward and grabbed her, pulling her to him, his lips finding hers, he kissed her deeply.
She reveled in the taste of him. Her nostrils filling with the smell of him. Old bittersweet memories stirred in her. All the old dreams that had gone up in smoke with as he burned her body.
He ended the kiss and stared into her eyes, there were tears streaming down her cheeks now. He pulled her close again and held her tightly. He whispered into her ear, "And I know some things now."
There was an ache in her heart now. Old Gods damn him! What the fuck was she supposed to be feeling now?
Suddenly they broke apart, Jon stepping back and breathing deeply.
"I'm sorry," Suddenly he looked like the old and unsure Jon Snow she'd known.
"Sorry? Sorry for what?!" she screamed angrily, wiping the tears from her eyes.
"I shouldn't have done that," he said in dour tone, looking very much like the Jon Snow she'd known.
She clenched her fist in anger, "Fuck you, Jon," she was shaking with emotions. The kiss had been everything she'd ever imagined, a smoldering ember of everything she'd wanted in her final moment.
She took a step toward raising her fist and intending to take a swing at Jon.
Suddenly, the old man behind Jon was between them, "I wouldn't do that my Lady."
She stopped and glared up at him growling, "Move out of the way old man, this is between me and Jon! I'm going to-"
"Calm down girly," Tormund was there suddenly, putting hands on her and pulling her back.
She glared and snarled, "You stay out of this as well, Tormund!"
"What're you going to do?" Tormund retorted snidely. He turned back to Jon, "Didn't I tell you not to do something stupid?"
Jon turned more red and squirmed where he was standing. Looking more like a green boy. The green boy she'd met once upon a time.
Tormund wasn't finished, "You know your Dragon Queen's not going to very forgiving, right?" he stated, "even I know she don't like to share. Yes?" he asked simply.
Jon face matched her hair now. Even as the old man shifted uneasily at the comment.
"Unless she does like to share?" Tormund questioned with a wide lecherous smile.
Jon continued squirming, "It's complicated now...but, no you were right the first time." he admitted with trepidation.
Tormund snorted and patted Jon on the shoulder, "It was nice knowing you friend..." he turned back to Ygritte, "Don't worry, the Dragon Queen's going to take this out of his hide."
Ygritte glared once at Tormund, then her eyes flickered towards Jon, she snorted and then walked away without another glance, trembling with emotion. This wasn't what she had expected. She was alive, except there was a part of her that was still dead.
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Robb Stark
They were all watching as Jon spoke with a young Wildling girl. Uncle Benjen and Lord Reed had joined them.
Mance lamented with an unhappy sigh, "This won't end well..."
Father was gazing with concern at Jon, as he kissed the red headed Wildling girl. And Father wasn't the only one that was concerned. Seeing Jon kissing a girl passionately was not the Jon that Robb knew. Not even the new Jon that he'd gotten to know after their return.
Bran's emotionless voice cut into father and Robb's reverie, "It won't amount to anything. It's like what you had with Ashara Dayne, father."
Ashara Dayne? Robb's thoughts ground to a halt, and he forgot all about Jon, as he twisted around to stare wide eyed at father.
Father frowned for a moment, before turning as red as the Wildling girl's hair as gaped at Bran.
Uncle Benjen's ears pricked up at the comment, he looked at Ned with a wide toothy smile, "Ashara, Ned? Is there something you want to tell me?"
Howland's grief cracked momentarily and he was now giving father a knowing smile as Robb continued to gape, probably looking like someone had walloped him over the head with something.
"I thought you only danced with her brother?" Uncle Benjen was grinning ear to ear now. He wagged his eyebrows suggestively, "I thought anything more was Brandon's style?" he asked with a mocking laugh as Ned continued to turn a deeper and deeper shade of red with every word.
Robb continued staring at his father, Ashara Dayne was a name he'd heard repeated as he was growing up, mostly people speculating that she was Jon's mother.
Father shifted uneasily and replied gruffly to uncle Benjen, "It's none of your damn business, Benjen."
In response, Uncle Benjen just started laughing, causing father to continue to turn an even deeper shade of red. It took a long moment as Uncle Benjen just continued laughing in amusement for father to gather himself.
"Enough Benjen, we have preparations," father said in annoyance, the red in his face starting to fade now.
"As you say, brother," Uncle Benjen between laughs, "as you say."
Robb looked between his father and uncle, this was a new perspective for him. Father was always the Lord of Winterfell and Uncle Benjen the First Ranger. Seeing Uncle Benjen needling father as a younger brother was something new for him.
The whole Ashara Dayne issue was something he wasn't ready to think about now. He could deal with the threat of the Others, the idea of father having previous conquests- no.
He turned back towards Jon, just in time to see the Wildling girl try to take a swing at Jon.
Robb blinked, what the hell did I miss?
Ser Barristan was standing between the two of them now, protecting his King from an irate Wildling. The big Wildling Tormund was there, speaking to them for a moment before the girl walked away, her face stormy and angry.
Jon stared after her mournfully for a long minute before turning away and joining them. Jon seemed as dour as he used to be before shaking himself out of his stupor. He looked to Robb than he noticed father's red face and Uncle Benjen's smiling demeanor.
"What'd I miss?" Jon asked dourly.
Robb quickly explained to Jon what Bran had said, and father's expressive reaction.
Jon blinked, his face going blank before casting a quick look at father and then wincing, "This is why we stopped talking to Bran, Robb," he sighed heavily, "We never know what secret he'll let out next," he finished dryly.
Robb was looking at his brother nonplussed. He turned to look at Ser Barristan. The Lord Commander looked...well there was a strange expression on the Lord Commander's face that Robb couldn't decipher.
"Let's get to work, before something else happens," Jon said with a deep sigh.
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The night was tense with anticipation. They all knew that something was going to happen, the uncertainty of what was going to happen was the hardest part.
Robb tried to get some rest, and he had been successful to a degree. Tents had all been forgone in favour of bedrolls for all who could fight, and the few tents they had were given over to the young and old. He had bedroll in one part of the camp, separate from where father and Jon were. Grey Wind lay next to him sleeping.
At least one of us will be well rested, Robb thought with a sigh, gazing at the peaceful direwolf.
Not far from him, the Greatjon was snoring loudly. He'd been paired with the boisterous lord for this night. Fires were being kept lit all through the night, hoping to keep the wights away. It was already past the hour of the wolf, soon enough they're all start getting up in preparation for tomorrow's hard march towards the Wall.
Robb sighed, only a few more hours. He prayed silently for the night to remain uneventful.
Unfortunately, the Gods were fickle tonight.
Grey Wind's head rose abruptly, even as the hairs on the back of Robb's neck rose. The direwolf snorted, his head suddenly moving back and forth, sniffing audibly. As if searching for something, he rose and moved towards a nearby Wildling.
Suddenly, Grey Wind snarled, even as Robb followed, his instincts screaming at him of danger. He drew Dark Sister, the legendary blade, now in his hand, steeling his resolve.
Grey Wind snarled and jumped forward onto a nearby Wildling...or at least what had looked like a Wildling. The man's cloak was pulled off revealing pale blue eyes in a rotting face with a hole in the head, big enough for Robb to see brains.
Robb didn't hesitate as he thrust Dark Sister into the wight, killing it instantly. Grey Wind sunk his teeth into the leg of the wight and shook it once more before releasing it.
"To arms! Get up, we're under attack!" Robb screamed, looking about for the enemy, "Winterfell! Winter is Coming!" he continued screaming out, even as men were jolted awake, jumping to their feet at his alarm.
Other men and women he'd mistaken for Wildlings suddenly snarled and struck at those nearest them. Screams of pain and fear began echoing through the camp. It wasn't just near him, he heard distant cries as well. The wights he'd stumbled upon weren't the only group that had infiltrated the camp.
He didn't know how many wights had snuck into the camp, even with the fires they'd kept going it was still too dark to get a proper count. He parried a broken sword away from him and riposted, sinking Dark Sister deep into his attacker's flesh. The second wight went limp and fell to the ground without a sound.
Robb had killed before, tonight it was different. He didn't know what was worse the silence of the wights or the screams of pain of dying men.
"Come on you fucker! I'm right here! Come and kill me, if you dare!" screamed the Greatjon as he faced down a wight coming at him. He raised his sword and brought it down, splitting the skull of the wight. The wight fell but the Greatjon wasn't finished, he brought his blade down in a decapitating blow, then struck multiple times, moving to dismember the wight.
When he was finished, the Greatjon moved to stand by Robb's side. He bared his teeth at Robb in what was probably some kind of smile, "Let's kill these fuckers," Greatjon snarled ruthlessly, even as he continued to blink sleep from his eyes.
Robb nodded and together with the Greatjon they plunged into nearest group of fighters.
Dark Sister sang in Robb's hand, wights falling before him like wheat. Where others had to hack at them to bring them down, Dark Sister brought down the wights quickly. The valyrian steel as deadly to the wights as dragonglass.
The only problem was that the lightness of the blade kept Robb overextending his blows. A problem, as time and again he had to remind himself to pull back his blows because of the lightness and power of valyrian steel.
The Greatjon fought by his side, along with Grey Wind. The direwolf would bring down a wight and the Greatjon was always there bringing his sword down on the head, starting with a decapitating blow, followed by dismembering blows. It was chaotic and dark, but they fought on. Robb didn't know for how long or how the overall battle was going, there were corpses strewn around- though, for the most part, he couldn't tell whether they were wights or the newly dead corpses of their allies.
Purposely or accidentally, the camp fires spread, casting shadows everywhere and creating even more chaos.
Somehow, he became separated from the Greatjon and Grey Wind, but still he fought on. All of sudden, the fires around him seemed to dim, growing weaker with every second that passed.
Robb frowned, his heart beat faster as he remembered Jon's warnings and he began looking around for the new threat.
It slid out from between fighting men and women. It's icy blade bringing down a man in Umber colours and then a man in Stark colours.
There standing before him now was no wight.
A White Walker in all it's glory stood there, icy blue skin and pale blue eyes. One of Old Nan's scary stories came to life right here and now, in front of him.
The monster glared at him, pale blue eyes filled with hostility, an icy blade in its hand as it advanced against him. A Wildling roared and ran at it, an axe raised above his head in an overhead blow.
The White Walker didn't falter or stop as it stabbed the Wildling with his icy blade, before the Wildling could bring the axe down. The icy blade then cut sideways disemboweling the man. The White Walker continued onwards towards Robb without a single glace at the falling corpse.
'When a man is afraid, that is the only time that he can truly be brave...'
Father's words echoed in his ears as he strode forward to meet the White Walker, Dark Sister held at the ready.
Well, Robb was still terrified. He clutched at Dark Sister, bringing the blade up, even as he stepped forward towards the White Walker, ready to face this test.
"Winterfell!" he screamed in it's face.
The White Walker raised it's blade and struck at him. Dark Sister met the blade and an ominous clang of metal rang through Robb's ears, even as his arms strained and felt the tremendous strength behind the White Walker's blade.
The White Walker struck at him again with quick slashing and stabbing blows, Robb dodged the stabs nimbly, parried the slashes, and then struck at the White Walker with an upwards slash.
The White Walker dodged the cut, then pain and coldness exploded across his face as the White Walker smashed the pommel of his blade into Robb's face. He reeled back, his head spinning, ears ringing from the strength of the blow, he saw the White Walker swinging the blade around and then Robb dropped under the blow, dropping down to a knee.
He twisted around, intending to cut the White Walker off at the knees.
Cold fire burned across his back even as he twisted around, finishing the blow, fighting through the pain. Dark Sister came around in a low slash, under the guard of the White Walker.
Ice shattered even as the pain finally overwhelmed him, he managed to keep clutching at Dark Sister as he fell forwards onto his face, feeling the world darkening around him.
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Jon Targaryen
It was a nightmare. The wights had slipped past the sentries and were in the camp. Havoc and Chaos ruled this night now.
Blackfyre stank of the rotten flesh of the wights, stained with their putrid blood and entrails. He hacked and slashed all that approached him, even as he tried to asses the attack's progress and intent.
Ser Barristan was by his side, hacking apart a wight with grim resolve, even as Jon continued to lament the lack of more valyrian steel and dragonglass weapons with them. The legendary Kingsguard was pale despite his grimness. Ghost was behind Jon, snapping and snarling at any wight that tried to get behind him. Grenn stood with them as well, barely keeping up, but he fought valiantly with them.
The fight was an all out brawl, with no cohesion or overlying sense that Jon could see so far. Still he fought on, there wasn't anything else you could do but fight for the moment.
All that changed mere moments later as he his stomach clenched in icy fear.
The Night King himself stood illuminated by muted fires striding through the camp.
In that instant, Jon knew where the Night King was going. Bran was in Mance's tent nearby. Even from where Jon was standing he could see the Night King was cutting his way through all who stood in his way, heading in that direction.
Wildlings and Northerners began fleeing from the inexorable progress of the Night King.
Jon didn't know what drew the Night King's attention towards him, but for a moment their eyes met. Everything seemed to freeze in that instance, the sounds of people fighting and dying disappearing...
And then the Night's King sneered. Rage in his cold blue eyes.
In that one moment, Jon's greatest fear was crystallized into reality as he realised...the Night King remembered.
The Night King looked away dismissively and continued on his path of destruction, seemingly the distance between them diminishing any possible threat of Jon.
A wight charged him again, Blackfyre cut it cleanly into two pieces with little thought from Jon. His mind was racing as he tried to come to terms with all the implications of this disastrous turn.
But ...if he could get to the Night King now , he could end it now , before the Long Night could truly begin!
"To me! Fire and Blood!" Jon bellowed, trying to the rally those around him.
"To the King!" shouted out Ser Barristan his veteran voice cutting through the din of battle with the experience of old age behind it, "To the KING!"
Wordless screams echoed around him from the fighting Free Folk near him.
"Hear we Stand!" Maege Mormont screamed even as she crushed the skull of a wight with her hefty mace, before moving to join them. Her men, gathering around the dominating lady. She stepped forwards to join Jon.
He began cutting towards the Night King with all haste. A possible swift end to it all in sight.
His plan came to an even swifter end as there came the screams and shrieks of wights behind him. He whorled around and saw Northerners and Free Folk falling down before a large massed group that had coalesced almost out of no where to flank them.
"Damn it! Damn it! Fuck!" he shouted in frustration, as his plan began falling apart as quickly as he had formed it.
He moved to support the fighters before they could be overwhelmed, if he tried to go after the Night King now, Jon would be the one that would be overwhelmed.
The group of flanking wights suddenly exploded in fire. Fire rained down, throwing wights and pieces of wights into the air. The nearest Northerners were thrown back as well, off balance and dazed for a moment, a number fell beneath the wights. Free Folk and Northerners froze, even as the wights didn't. A number of men and women fell, they froze in surprise and fell to the relentless wights.
Jon didn't freeze, he knew what he seeing, even if he had only seen it once near the end of the war before their return.
Those were the exploding orbs used by the Children of the Forest.
Even as he watched, small figures burst out of the cover of darkness in the camp behind the wights.
The Children of the Forest weren't numerous, but they had their exploding orbs and dragonglass weapons. There couldn't have been more than six of them, but they were enough to tip the scales completely against the Night King in this flanking sneak attack.
Dragonglass spears and daggers flashed, putting down wights permanently. There were no more explosions, the Children too near to the Northerners and Free Folk to use their orbs without inflicting damage on their allies.
Jon breathed out a sigh of relief at that this unexpected turn of events.
Ser Barristan was bleeding, a cut across his left cheek, his helmet had been knocked off at some time while fighting, he was gaping now, staring at the Children, "Seven hells! Is that...are those...the Children of the Forest?!" he cried out in stunned disbelief.
The fight had drastically shifted momentum, and Jon turned back towards the Night King, hoping to bring his plans to fruition. He turned just in time to see this realization flash across the Night King's eyes.
A great undead horse came running towards the Night King. With unnatural grace, he vaulted onto the back of the undead horse, casting one last hate filled glare at Jon before galloping off. The remaining wights breaking and running away in his wake, leaving behind a chaos filled camp, dead and injured littered everywhere Jon could see.
Damn it...damn it, they'd been so close...
Jon stopped and leant heavily upon Blackfyre, breathing hard.
As quickly as the attack had began, it was over.
They'd survived...for now.
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The morning finally came, even as wary sentries changed over with fresher men, the fires still burning brightly as the bodies of the dead were added to the fires. They continued to burn, tinder for the many fires that kept the camp illuminated in the aftermath of the Night King's attack.
Even first light did not bring relief to the men. The suddenness and cunning of the attack had rattled everyone.
Though if Jon was honest, there was an added sense of disbelief among many. The Children of the Forest were among them now, this was an unexpected and timely addition. Unlooked for and very welcome in how they shifted the balance of the battle in their favour.
In the end, the news wasn't as disastrous as Jon had expected, better than expected, but it still wasn't too good. Causalities had been less than he'd initially expected, the Night King and the Wights had been specifically targeting, baring a couple of exceptions, the weak. It was an easy strategy to understand, the more dead, that the Night King could raise and add to their numbers, the better for them. Father and Mance had escaped with scratches, their side of the camp hadn't been hit as hard. Lord Reed was in better spirits today, in spite of the causalities, killing wights easing his grief for Jojen somewhat.
Jon took a deep breath, he'd been afraid to ask about Ygritte, but Tormund had whispered to him of her, reassuring him. They still hadn't spoken since his little act of stupidity.
Father, Uncle Benjen and the other Northern Lords were grim and resolute, the only truly good thing to come from the battle had been the bonds of blood that had been forged between the Northerners and the Free Folk.
It had been something that had worried Jon, but he knew in the end it would not have been an issue for too long. The battle merely hastened it.
Now, Jon was on hos way to check on Robb, the injuries hadn't been too bad in the end, but still it had chilled Jon down to his bones when he was told that Robb had been hurt. Jon did not want to contemplate a world without his brother by his side. Once was one time too many.
Robb had been given a tent while they packed up the camp. Jon found his way there with Ser Barristan in tow, Grenn was busy helping Uncle Benjen now pack up the camp. Jon had tried to send Barristan to help as well, but the old knight had been adamant of his place by Jon's side.
Entering he found Robb sitting up on a log, shirtless and leaning forward, the wound across his back exposed and being tended to by one of the Children of the Forest. Grey Wind sat at Robb's side, head leaning against Robb's leg as Robb rubbed Grey Wind's head lovingly. Robb's face was scratched and swollen red, the effects of a White Walker's blow readily apparent, though it looked worse than it actually was.
They weren't alone in the tent, opposite Robb, Bran sat conversing with the Child of the Forest called Leaf. Hodor sat quietly, behind them. The gentle giant seemed fascinating with the Children and stared at them.
Robb noticed him first, and gave him a crooked smile, "Good of your Grace, to come check on your loyal subject," he japed lamely.
Jon returned the smile, reassured by Robb's japing tone, "I'm just glad you're well enough to jape, Robb. The good news is cuts by White Walker blades don't get infected. Their cold kills all corruption, as if they'd been cauterized" He looked to Child that was tending to Robb's back, "Any other problems?"
The Child gave him a long look stopping her administrations, before nodding, "The wound is deep and long. It will scar."
Robb grimaced.
Jon shrugged, that wasn't actually a problem, "Well women have always like scars," he added, subconsciously rubbing around his left eye, where Orell's eagle had tried to scratch out his eye. The now gone scar had seemed to add to his authority and his looks back then.
Robb snorted, "Too bad this one will be covered so often then," he lamented with a smile.
"You could use it as an excuse to always take your shirt off in the training yard," Jon offered his brother, with a wry smile.
Robb snickered, before wincing as the Child poked at his wound again, "I will," he affirmed dryly.
Jon felt lighter, Robb seemed more like the brother he'd always known now. He turned to Leaf, "What about you? What will you do now?" The magic of the Wall had trapped them on the wrong side since Brandon the Builder had erected the magical structure.
Leaf cocked her head at him, face expressionless, green eyes seeming to search through Jon's soul, "We can cross the Wall to safety now," she stated evenly, "The barrier has become weakened. We will escape with you."
Jon nodded, "Good. You'll travel with us?"
"Yes." Leaf's reply was succinct, incomprehensible green eyes meeting his own.
Jon waited for more, but Leaf remained silent. He looked to Bran, but he just stared back, equally silent. He nodded, hiding his annoyance at their simple words, Apparently, they were as good at keeping up a conversation as Bran was these days.
He took a deep breath before speaking, "Father and Mance have the camp well in hand, people are already moving south to the Wall," Jon told them all, "If we really push it, we can reach the Wall in a day or two, after last night we can only hope that the Night King will be too busy licking his wounds to really come after us now," Jon stated with a pessimistic grimace.
Robb made a face, his tone matching Jon's, "We can all hope..."