The Night's Watch had abandoned the Wall.
It had been less than two months since Viserys left the Wall, but staying there had become impossible. The relentless cold was unbearable, especially at night. More and more brothers of the Watch were dying in their sleep. To prevent them from turning into wights and attacking their comrades, guards had to stand watch even in the barracks while others rested. The situation was equally dire for those stationed at the lighthouses along the coast. If a sentry failed to respond for more than two days, it was assumed they had frozen to death.
Five days ago, Ned received a message from Viserys urging him to abandon the Wall and retreat south.
Perhaps I am the first Lord Commander of the Night's Watch to abandon the Wall, Ned thought with a hint of bitter irony as he gazed at the immense structure. Snow and ice had filled its many cracks, signs of its slow decay. After lingering for a moment, he turned away and headed back to his command post in Mole's Town with Gendry. The decision to abandon the Wall meant Castle Black had also been forsaken.
In recent years, the free folk had transformed Mole's Town from ruins into a livable settlement. Now, most of the free folk had migrated south alongside the civilians of the North, leaving the area empty—a perfect location for a defensive headquarters. Ned had established his command post there, repurposing the town to suit their needs.
The hall serving as the pre-war meeting room was warmed by several burning braziers. Inside were the commanders of the various Wall castles and the northern lords who had accompanied Robb. Among them were Robb, Jon, Bran, and Rickon—all of Ned's "sons." The room was filled with lords and their heirs, commanders and their squires. Many were men who had served under Ned in the past, while others were bound to him by blood. His presence dominated the hall; he was unquestionably the most powerful figure here.
The hundreds gathered in the hall were silent, their attention fixed on the "Old Lord."
The weight of his reputation alone kept them still. All awaited his instructions. They had been told that the Wall might collapse at any moment, and the tension was palpable. Even Robb, now the Lord of Winterfell, appeared uneasy. Yet, as his gaze fell on Ned's calm, unyielding expression, a measure of reassurance settled over him.
Behind Ned hung a massive map of the Wall. Bright lamps illuminated the map from behind, making every detail visible—the marks and annotations glowed clearly.
"Grenn, how is the mine-laying progressing?" Ned asked.
Grenn, once Jon's close friend, had risen to become a commander," leading over 200 Night's Watch soldiers. For weeks, he and his men had been laying mines in the strategic locations Viserys identified as vulnerable to the Night King's forces.
Under Grenn's strict supervision—often bordering on brutal—his soldiers had worked tirelessly, enduring harsh conditions. Their hands were raw and blistered, with barely an inch of unscarred skin left.
"My lord, we have laid a total of 1,174,000 mines so far, averaging over 200,000 mines at each suspected breach!" Grenn reported. His voice, though steady, carried a note of pride.
"Hm." Ned nodded, motioning for him to sit. For the taciturn Lord Commander, this was high praise.
Grenn returned to his seat, his spirits lifted. Jon watched his old friend with quiet pride, sharing in his satisfaction. The same Grenn who had once been mocked as "Aurochs" by Alliser Thorne had proven himself. He now stood as a competent and respected commander.
But as Grenn glanced back at Jon, his gaze was filled with disdain. Jon couldn't help but feel a pang of helplessness. His standing among the nobles and the Night's Watch had eroded. Despite Viserys' backing, the northern lords still kept their distance.
Clearing his mind, Jon focused as Ned continued. "As per His Grace Viserys' instructions, we have divided the Wall into five sectors: Castle Black, The Shadow Tower, Greyguard, Stonedoor, and The Nightfort. I will split our forces into six groups, keeping one in reserve for flexibility. Communication and command will be handled by the wargs."
Viserys had been proactive in recruiting and training wargs from the free folk, building a capable force that now served as a critical resource for the Night's Watch.
Just as Ned laid out his strategy, a sudden vibration shook the hall. Dust cascaded from the beams above.
"An earthquake? Or is the Night King advancing?" someone murmured. Unease rippled through the room, though no one moved without Ned's command.
"Everyone, evacuate immediately!" Ned ordered. His voice carried calm authority, steady even as the ground trembled beneath them.
The hall emptied quickly, and outside, all eyes turned toward the Great Wall, looming dozens of miles away. At first, they heard deep, resonant rumbles like muffled thunder. Then the Wall—unchanged for millennia—seemed to awaken.
The colossal structure began to writhe, as if it were a living thing. Tremors rippled through its icy expanse, and moments later, it began to collapse. Ice and snow exploded into the air, plumes rising like great clouds. The Wall, the Night's Watch's ancient defense, fell apart with terrifying speed, its vast height diminishing as it crumbled and slid into ruin.
The soldiers of the Night's Watch and the North stood frozen in shock, their faces pale and their mouths agape. The apocalyptic sight drained their courage. Some fell to their knees in despair.
"This is the gods' wrath! It must be the gods' wrath!" cried a thin soldier, his voice trembling with fear. Tears streamed down his face as he knelt, overwhelmed.
"Get the hell up!" bellowed a bearded officer, grabbing him roughly by the neck. The soldier's display of weakness was an embarrassment to his superior.
Meanwhile, Ned and the other commanders raised binoculars, observing the catastrophic collapse. The tumbling snow and ice resembled an avalanche, burying the ancient fortress built by the Night's Watch over millennia. Yet, amid the devastation, a pattern emerged. As parts of the Wall crumbled, sections revealed jagged mountains beneath. These mountains, uneven and fragmented, exposed passes that had been hidden for thousands of years. These were the locations Viserys had marked earlier as critical breaches.
The collapse continued for several agonizing minutes, the earth trembling with each passing second. At last, the rumbling ceased, and an eerie silence settled over the land.
Ned unsheathed his sword, his voice clear and resolute. "My lords, the North is vast, but behind it lies our home. There is nowhere left to retreat. Long live Emperor Viserys! The North shall prevail!"
His declaration sparked a fiery response.
"Long live Emperor Viserys! The North shall prevail!" the soldiers echoed. Their voices rose, growing louder with each chant.
"The North shall prevail! The North shall prevail! The North shall prevail!"
Among the crowd, seasoned lords like Greatjon and Rickard stood in stunned silence, their eyes reflecting memories of the past. It felt as if they had been transported twenty years back, to the War of the Usurper, when they had stood shoulder to shoulder with Ned in battle. Now, by an unexpected twist of fate, they were once again united under the Targaryen banner.
This time, their foe was even greater, a threat more powerful than any they had faced before. And the Night King's forces had heralded their arrival with the destruction of the Wall—a chilling declaration of war.