The new Lord Commander's scowl deepened as he looked out over the courtyard. Truth be told, he had no reason to be in a dark mood. The Watch was the strongest it had been in decades, and all the help and support came from the Young Wolf. Many of the new king's enemies, trained soldiers one and all, were sent to the Wall as punishment. Hundreds of warriors were now dispersed amongst the three active castles. In fact, with the new influx of men, there was even talk between Thorne and the commanders of the Shadow Tower and Eastwatch-by-the-Sea about reopening some of the other castles.
Besides men, there had also been a steady stream of supplies from the south as well. Dried, persevered food from the Reach. Lumber from the Stormlands and stone from the Vale. Even the Iron Islands were helping by sending regular shipments of iron ore. There was still a lot of work to be done, but Alliser was secretly elated with how much the Watch had grown in two years. Being around nobles and soldiers were making the former criminals take their duty a little more seriously. It was as if a breath of fresh air had been given to the group.
The Watch had taken a hit when Alliser's predecessor, Jeor Mormont, was assassinated. The old man had been found with a hole in his chest, probably from a wildling assassin. After his death, Alliser saw his sword returned to his former home of Bear Island and was unanimously named his successor in a landslide victory over Ser Denys Mallister of the Shadow Tower.
All Alliser needed now was for his First Ranger, Benjen Stark, to return. He had been missing for months now, presumed dead. Qhorin Halfhand, the only other veteran ranger besides Alliser himself, had been named acting First Ranger until Benjen's body was recovered or he returned.
"Lord Commander," Slynt called, striding up to the Alliser.
Janos Slynt, the former commander of the city watch in King's Landing, had become Alliser's annoying and pathetic shadow since he had arrived at Castle Black. A stout, frog-faced man with too much ego and not enough skill to back it up. When he arrived, he did exactly what he did in the capital. He latched onto the most powerful individual he could find.
Unfortunately, that happened to be Alliser.
"Slynt," Alliser replied in his dry, humorless tone that many in Castle Black knew by heart. Before he had become Lord Commander, he had been the master-at-arms and had trained many of the recruits who still resided in Castle Black.
"A fine morning," Slynt said happily, standing next to Alliser as they looked out over the courtyard.
"I fail to see why," Alliser responded bluntly. It was like every other bloody day at the Wall: cold and miserable.
"Have any of the rangers returned?"
Slynt nodded. "Aye, a few have. The rumors are true. The wildling horde is moving south."
Alliser huffed. He had sent Qhorin out to see what the savages on the north side of the Wall were up to. The Halfhand had returned with troubling reports that many of the villages close to the Wall were abandoned, with tracks indicating that they've headed north. Alliser had then sent out a few more patrols to see if they could find out where the savages had gone, the reports were just as the Lord Commander feared. The wildlings were banding together once again under the command of a former brother of the Night's Watch, Mance Rayder.
Now they were all heading south towards the Wall.
"Were they able to see how many there were?" Alliser asked.
"Well….there were…." Slynt said, obviously hesitant to answer.
"Slynt!" Alliser barked.
"They weren't able to get a clear number," Slynt answered. "But one lad said it looked like a million of the buggers."
Alliser sighed. If he had Benjen, then Stark and the Halfhand would have been able to figure out how large the wildling host was. But Alliser was hesitant to send Qhorin out on any ranging missions. The man was too valuable to lose. So he was having to rely on the reports of men far less skilled than the Halfhand.
"Speak with Yarwyck," Alliser grunted. "Make sure that all three gates are strengthened as much as possible."
Slynt nodded. "Aye, my lord," he said before turning to the nearest man he saw. "You! The Lord Commander…."
"I said you, Slynt," Alliser barked.
Janos Slynt blanched slightly and nodded before walking off with a little less pomp in his step. The man was a toadie and a coward, and Alliser had learned that much just by watching him spar with others. He stood on his ego too much and had an annoying tendency to remind everyone of the fact that he had served as commander of the Gold Cloaks in King's Landing and had powerful friends at court.
According to some of the recruits from the capital, Slynt had been the one to order the death of a baby in the city who was still suckling on her mother's breast. Alliser was an anointed knight and two decades ago, he would have killed Slynt just on that fact alone, but after almost twenty years serving alongside rapists and murderers, what's one more sick, cruel, black-hearted man to wear the black armor of the Night's Watch?
Alliser shrugged the snow from his shoulders and strode away from the banister, finding his way quickly to the maester quarters under the rookery. Chett, Maester Aemon's steward, nodded to the Lord Commander and opened the door for him.
"Lord Commander," he greeted roughly.
Alliser didn't respond, simply sweeping past him and into the warm room filled with books and chests. A brazier burned happily in the corner while Maester Aemon was hunched over his desk.
"Lord Commander," Maester Aemon greeted softly, looking up from his work.
The maester of Castle Black was a small, bald, wrinkled man of a hundred name-days whose eyes were clouded white from blindness. Despite his blindness and age, the man's mind remained just as sharp as it had been in his youth and his advice was very valued in Castle Black.
"Maester," Alliser greeted gruffly. "I would have your thoughts on some matters."
Aemon put down his quill and rested his hands on the armrests of his chair. "What is on your mind?"
"Reports have come in from the rangers. The wildlings have assembled a vast army and now march south to attack the Wall." Alliser explained.
"How large is this army?" Aemon asked.
"The lads weren't able to figure out, but it's quite large," Alliser grumbled with annoyance. "One of them said it looked like a million."
Aemon smiled slightly. "Quite a grim predicament, then? What is it that you want from me?"
"I….I wonder if I should send word to Winterfell and King's Landing?" Alliser said after a moment, gritting out the words.
Aemon nodded slowly. "You must let go of your hatred. Ned Stark nor his son are your enemies."
Before Alliser had been a brother of the Night's Watch, he had fought for the Targaryens during Robert's Rebellion. Instead of the block, he chose to join the Watch. Ever since then, he had held special hatred in his heart for the Starks and Baratheons. Even now, when the Watch was receiving more help than it had in decades because of Robb Stark, he still found it hard to ask for help with tens of thousands of wildlings marching on the Wall.
"Do you think the Wall or Castle Black can repel such a force?" Aemon asked curiously.
Alliser hesitated once more in his response. He wanted to say that they could, but it was wishful thinking. The men of Castle Black would be lucky to repel one attack, much less an entire siege. They needed the armies of the south, or even that of the North, to prevent the wildling horde from breaking through the Wall.
"I do not believe so," Alliser admitted. "Will you send a raven to Winterfell?"
"I will," Aemon responded easily. "I will also send one to King's Landing."
"For what purpose?" Alliser asked as he got up.
"Robb Stark is not Robert Baratheon or Aerys. He is a man of the North and a Stark. They have always supported the Night's Watch and the son could offer more help than the father." Aemon explained.
Alliser nodded. "I will bow to your judgment on the matter."
"Is there not more on your mind?" Aemon asked as Alliser moved towards the door.
The aged knight stopped and looked over his shoulder at the old man, wondering if he truly had powers. He was always able to tell when there was something else weighing on a man's mind, but Alliser had no wish to share what was on his.
"No, maester," he answered before striding out.
Benjen Stark
Benjen Stark, First Ranger of the Night's Watch, stood guard outside the cave of the Three-Eyed Crow with Meera Reed and the other Children of the Forest. The cave was hidden amongst a scattering of boulders beside a frozen lake and far enough from the woods that it gave the silent guardians a full, unhindered view of the land around them.
Benjen still couldn't believe the events that had transpired since he had left Castle Black over a year ago.
He had been tracking a large group of wildlings, wondering why they had abandoned their village. Following them led Benjen to discover the massive wildling horde that was assembling close to the Frost Fangs. That's when Rattleshirt and a few other savages surprised the First Ranger. The battle had been quick and fierce. Benjen had cut down two of Rattleshirt's men before making it to his horse and galloping off, receiving a couple of arrows in his back as a parting gift.
Benjen's horse ran for a day through the Haunted Forest before the near-dead ranger was found by a mysterious figure. A gaunt warrior riding a massive elk, garbed in the mottled black and grey of the Night's Watch. Benjen barely remembered speaking with the man, but all he did remember was his name.
Coldhands.
The mystery man had taken Benjen and his mount to the cave he currently guarded, leaving him in the care of the Children of the Forest who cleaned and bandaged his wounds but were unable to patch his armor. It was also the Children who explained who Coldhands was and his mission.
His name was lost to time, and even the Children of the Forest didn't know what it was. He had been a ranger of the Night's Watch, though when he served is still unknown. He had strayed too far north and encountered an Other, apparently one of the few that remained after the Long Night. The Other attempted to turn the man into a wight, one of the walking corpses that served the Others, but the Old Gods had intervened and saved the man before he fully turned. That's how the Children had found him. A half-dead, half-alive man buried in the snow chanting 'Cold….Hands….Cold….Hands.'
The Children took the man under their protection and healed him as much as possible before sending him on his way. At first, the man had attempted to return to the Night's Watch, but he found that he couldn't pass through the Wall. After this, the man took on a new mission: to hunt down and destroy wights wherever he could find them. A mission he had been on for centuries.
After Benjen had been given to the Children of the Forest, Coldhands had grumbled something about finding another wolf and came back a few days later with Bran and his party of Hodor and the children of Howland Reed; Meera and Jojen Reed.
Benjen had been overjoyed to see his nephew, but his happiness shattered as he heard of the boy's accident, the ironborn taking Winterfell, and the Boltons razing it. He had then learned of Bran's purpose for being so far north. Apparently, he was meant to learn 'how to fly' from the Three-Eyed-Crow.
"Benjen Stark." A Child known as Leaf said, emerging from the cave. "He wishes to see you."
The Children were exactly how Benjen always imagined. Humanoid, small and slight in build, with mottled brown skin. They had large, cat-like eyes colored gold or green. They are graceful creatures who seem to always be listening to something. Like there was a song in the wind that only they could hear.
The ranger followed the Child down into the cave and it wasn't long till they found the main room, where Bran sat across from the Three-Eyed Crow. The man, or the remnants of the man, were skeletal bones with snow-white skin stretched taut over them. He wore dark clothing that contrasted with his skin and the red blotch that marked one side of his face. He had long, white hair that reached the floor and one good eye that had turned completely red. He sat on a weirwood throne that seemed to be in the process of enveloping the man completely.
Benjen, as soon as he saw the man, knew who he was at once. Former Hand of the King to Aerys I Targaryen and Maekar I Targaryen before he was sent to the Wall by King Aegon V Targaryen, where he rose to the position of Lord Commander before mysteriously disappearing. In Westeros, he was known as Bloodraven, brother to Daemon Blackfyre and Aegor Bittersteel.
Benjen bowed slightly to the man.
"Bloodraven."
"Benjen Stark," The greenseer rasped. "Do you know why I have called you here?"
"Leaf did not explain," Benjen responded.
"The crippled wolf still has much to learn, but there is not much time left," Bloodraven continued. "There is something that you must know."
Benjen glanced back at Bran, whose eyes had returned to normal and was gazing at his uncle with the same grim, mature expression that the Three-Eyed Crow always wore. It was the look of a man who had seen too much life and certainly odd expression for a boy who was not yet fifteen.
"What would that be?" Benjen asked curiously.
"How to fight," Bran said simply.
Benjen rested a casual hand on the hilt of his sword, a slight smile on his face. "Forgive me, nephew, but I know how to fight fine."
"You know how to fight men," Bloodraven croaked. "No one but Coldhands knows how to fight what is coming."
"The wildlings?" Benjen asked.
"The White Walkers," Bran answered. "They are returning."
"The White Walkers are…." Benjen started before stopping himself. He could no longer call them a myth, not when he was in the presence of a Child of the Forest. If they were still around, thousands of years after the Andal Invasion, then there was every chance that White Walkers were as well.
"I will show you many things, First Ranger," Bloodraven explained. "Take your nephew's arm."
As if on cue, Bran raised his arm like he would if he were escorting someone. Benjen, still confused, knelt next to the boy and grabbed onto his arm, darkness quickly overcoming as soon as he did.
Break
Benjen came back to consciousness, Bran, and Bloodraven standing on either side of him. They were on an island that was dominated by a black castle set at the base of a giant mountain. Stone dragons seemed to decorate every inch of the keep, and at the tallest tower flew the banner of House Targaryen. The ranger was so struck by the banner that he failed to realize that both Bloodraven and his nephew were actually walking beside him.
"Where have you brought me?" Benjen gasped, staring at the banner.
"This is the present day, Uncle," Bran answered. "While you recovered, the final member of House Targaryen returned to Westeros and fought a battle with Robb. She did not win, but was allowed to live as the Lady of Dragonstone."
"We do not have time for this," Bloodraven said, walking towards the mountain. "Come."
The trio made their way around the mountain and onto the beach below it, where Bloodraven eventually led them to a cave. The sand was mixed with little pieces of black rock. One such piece caught Benjen's eye and he stooped down to pick it up, only to discover that it was the remnant of an arrowhead.
"The Children and the First Men fought the Others with dragonglass, what maesters call obsidian," Bloodraven explained, staring at a wall. "Dragonstone is one such place where such a material can be collected."
"Why did they use it?" Benjen asked, walking up to Bloodraven. When he saw what the ancient man was looking at, he gasped.
It was a painting of tall, human-like figures painted in blues and whites fighting against a band of men and Children, all armed with black weapons. Even though it was a painting, Benjen felt a cold chill run down his spine and a need to look around for danger as fear took over his emotions.
"Even in paintings, Others still inspire fear," Bloodraven said grimly. "The Valyrians called dragonglass frozen fire, and it was the only thing that the First Men and the Children had that could kill an Other."
"When the Watch was first established, the Children of the Forest armed the brothers with daggers of dragonglass, a practice that faded with the arrival of the Andals," Bran explained, appearing quietly at Benjen's side.
Bran had become very different since he had left Winterfell. When Benjen last visited his old home, the young boy had been a ball of energy who was curious about everything and wanted to climb everything in sight. When he arrived at the cave of the Three-Eyed Crow, he had become a very serious boy. It was an unsettling experience to be around him.
Now, after a year being mentored by Bloodraven on what it meant to be the Three-Eyed Crow and the responsibilities of such a duty, Bran had become a grim, humorless lad with a pension to mention events that baffled or confused everyone else. Such as when he explained how Robb and a Targaryen had fought as if it were common knowledge.
"So to fight the Others, we need dragonglass," Benjen said slowly, then everything went black.
Break
Benjen came awake back in the cave. He shook his head and glared at Bran. "A little warning would have been nice," he grumbled.
Bran ignored him. "We must get south, Uncle. Westeros must know what we know."
Benjen nodded. "We leave in two days then," he said, glancing at Bloodraven. "Is that fine?"
"That is fine." Bloodraven wheezed. "There is still more that I must show the boy."
Benjen nodded again and strode out of the cave so that the two could go back to their 'training' or whatever it was called. Meera gave him a respectful nod when he emerged.
"What was that about?" she asked.
"I know how to defeat the Others," Benjen grunted. "We just have to get south of the Wall first."
"Easier said than done," Meera replied, her eyes sweeping the snowy landscape like a practiced hunter, searching for any signs of danger. "When do we leave?"
"Two days," Benjen said. "Gods willing, we all make it safe."
"Let's just hope the other god doesn't get us first," Meera said quietly.